To Be A King: King Garble

Flames. Flames took to the air, like a young eagle preparing to take off into the distant sun. And as flames were sporadically shot into the sky and exploded like fireworks at a celebration, the sun shined its rays of beautiful twilight through large mountains and reflected its ochre hue on the musky waters below.

Looking on as the sunlight faded and strong winds took its place one could only hear the sound of beating wings as many dragons gathered around the mouth of a long inactive volcano. The volcano, of Lord Magma. And the resting place of only one unknown dragon.

Flame after flame shot into the air. Trails of smoke followed each one before the balls of fire exploded on their own, out into the distant sky, obscuring the stars above for only a second, mixing various hues with the colors of the night before dissipation took over entirely.

Out of all the dragons that had participated. Out of all that came, one struggled to tear his gaze from the volcano below and look towards the dragons that floated around him.

Dragon Lord Torch, now Lord Torch, snorted heavily. Waves of smoke billowed forth and with each beat of his massive tattered wings, did the dragons surrounding him struggle to maintain their position in circle formation.

A second went by, then another. Before Torch knew it an hour had passed. He could almost hear her voice now if he thought about it. Telling him to quit the theatrics and just get to the point already. If it hadn’t been for the years to centuries he’d served as LORD OF THE DRAGONS! ...then Lord Torch wasn’t sure how he’d be reacting right now of all times.

In all these years he’d been planning for this moment he never thought there’d be a day this would happen through all that careful planning. An unexpected outcome, at an unexpected time. He’d even planned the whole trial for the Gauntlet of Fire, just for her. But... there had been problems. Complications.

Problems, or rather errors Torch wished he’d sought by himself to be corrected. But... it was too late for that now. Looking around Lord Torch looked at all the dragons gathered. Let out a heavy mental sigh, then with the rise of the tiny scepter pinched between two massive claws, he pointed it in the direction of Lord Magma’s volcano, then said one word.

“Go.” He commanded, it echoed across the rocky terrain, through caverns, and trenches. His voice still held that raucous and brazening shout to it that always gave him that annoying yet surprisingly understanding sparkle. But this time, it lacked the cheer or vigor from before. Regardless, given the situation the dragons didn’t need a swing of some scepter to obey. They listened willingly.

One by one the circle of dragons, the swarm of tatzelwurm, the ancient dragons of the east (Yinlong), and the very few dragons that held the ground either descended or moved closer towards the mouth of Mount Magmus.

Once all had landed and Torch could see all that were present, the largest dragon of them all took one more look skyward to the looming clouds above bereft of the rays that were the sun and watched as a cloud slowly drifted by, till the moon casted its bright luminescence on all.

Lord Torch allowed wind to keep him aloft then just as he began to drop, a powerful gale blew forth from tattered wings. With a slight turn of his head, he looked to his right to the group of young dragons that carried a body, led by his successor. His successor looked his predecessor in the eye, nerves taking over when they locked with the older’s. Lord Torch studied his inheritor and almost frowned. Even now he could see it in the younger dragon’s expression. The mirth and all it brought. To him, this dragon wasn’t ready. To him, this dragon didn’t have what it took. Then again, the rules of the dragon lord and the gauntlet were final. Not even he could change what had happened once the scepter had accepted a new owner. He’d simply have to make due with what he had. At the very least, it’d be amusing to watch the young dragon squirm. Meanwhile the inheritor to the scepter felt a strong sense of pride at what he was coming into. Confidence,  glory, joy, excitement. All of these emotions and so much more melded together as he thought of what he was going to do.

What he was going to be.Then, in an instant the moment the moonlight hit his predecessor’s face, Garble felt all those feelings dwindle greatly as he was brought back to reality. For a second... he wasn’t sure what to feel. He’d won... but if he was going to gloat he’d wanted to have done it in front of her. The petty princess who made him look bad in front of all those dragons during the beginning of the trial. But now he couldn’t even do that. All because she couldn’t handle a little bit of water.

Several seconds went by, then Garble forced away everything along with the swelling pride that had grown when he held it and felt that surge. That strange indescribable surge.

Tossing all those thoughts away, Garble realized Torch was staring at him, waiting. The Lord had never looked so disappointed in his entire life. It made Garble take on a look of dismay. He allowed reality to take effect and as such, he too took on a more respectful form before he looked back up at his predecessor.

Garble nodded. Torch looked at him for what felt like a minute or twelve. Then, Torch nodded with the faintest of signs of his bright yellow razors peeking out from his maw.

Lord Torch gave one order. “Go.”

And with that Garble looked to the group behind him, pointed to the ground and followed after them as they accepted his order and took the late Ember to the hardened ground below.

Somewhere deep inside as they landed, Garble thought to himself, I could get used to this.

Lord Torch landed and when he did, a moment of silence passed through his fellow dragons. After that he raised the scepter up only slightly into the air, his claws firmly wrapped around it before he thrust it into the air as a sign.

The dragons that surrounded Mount Magmus’ disk, one-by-one blew a wave of fire into the air, incessantly. That fire went on to form a ring of flame in the night sky above the dead volcano.  Dragon Lord Torch moved forward and then after a second, moved towards the massive cave that had formed after centuries of shifting and volcanic action, but had since hardened into solid molten rock. It’s size made him look small. Something that actually intimidated the other dragons greatly, judging from their distance.

With a single motion of his claw, Torch motioned for those that carried his daughter to follow and without a word entered, leaving his soon to be predecessor watch him go inside. It was a full ten seconds before Torch stopped and casually glanced back at Garble from within the shadows in silent scrutiny. Time passed and he made a movement with his head that he could  follow.

The young dragon did so gleefully despite the situation. Only to remember and correct his habit. For a long while the group moved in silence, ducking bats, walking through small puddles, and avoiding stalagmites and stalactites. And then after minutes of suspense, they stopped as the sound of silent breathing could be heard through the dripping waters.

“This was where Ember’s mother, took her resting place, before she decided to Sleep.” Torch informed, more to Garble than to those that carried his resting daughter. The young drake made no reply, because his eyes were soon ensnared by the sight of another dragon that soon came before them.

Almost as large as Torch himself, Garble found he was at a loss for words. Scales as clear as aqua and spots as blue as the night sky, Garble found himself entranced by the image of the dragoness that lay sleeping on a pile of bounty lost to ages long before his time.

For a second Garble was stunned, then he realized so were the others. Whether it was out of curiosity or interest, Garble took the chance and looked at the forever slumbering Ember... the resemblance was uncanny. Aside from the shape of her snout and the horns she no doubt inherited from her father, the two dragons were almost similar if not in size than in beauty.

For the first time since the Gauntlet of Fire had ended, Torch’s laughter filled the air. It was bright, merry, and actually cheerful. It filled the air, felt like it caused quakes and unsurprisingly enough did not awaken the two sleeping beauties. In time (at least eleven seconds), Torch’s laughter died as the group slowly managed to tear their eyes away from the Dragon Lord’s consort.

Soon that merriment died and it was filled with a serious atmosphere once more. Torch’s smile died as he stared at his wife, then to his daughter. Reality sunk in again. Everyone stared, but for different reasons. Finally, Lord Torch moved to the large group of teenage dragons that carried his daughter like she was a treasure more precious than any could ever hope to achieve, and handed over to her father.

Slowly, carefully. Lord Torch moved his daughter to her mother’s side and then gently laid her down by her just like she used to do on her own when she was young.

Lord Torch watched over his family for some time. The other dragon’s had at some point understood the atmosphere and left. Garble hadn’t. He still stood not too far away from the massive dragon watching. Seeing. Torn really. Ember had been his enemy, his rival. Now he wasn’t sure what to feel. Bad? Yes. Sad? Sort of. But there were also other feelings within that desired to fester, and he wasn’t sure what to do about them.

His thoughts were interrupted when a massive cloud of smoke hit him and made him start to choke. Garble looked up with watery eyes and to his surprise, Torch held the scepter to him.

Garble the rebel. Garble the dragon, the leader of a bunch of teenage dragons from within his inner circle, that bullied and pushed and flaunted their wings, ferocity and girth, gawked in awe and shock. He didn’t retrieve the scepter. He didn’t even reach for it despite how much he wanted to. A part of him refused to as he could sense-- feel the power that radiated off it just as it had when he first touched it.

Then Lord Torch’s voice broke the silence with a resounding boom that drove him to his senses. “Take it”, the lord stated.

Garble looked up. Then looked back at the scepter. For a second he hesitated. Then he looked down at the massive claw that held the tiny object in its palm, waiting. The size, the strength, all of it. Garble took all of Torch’s image, the power he’d displayed before and even now after losing his remaining family in and the weight of the great dragon's nature almost made the younger shudder as he stared longingly at the scepter.

The claw moved closer in gesture and Garble heard his name bespoken. “Take the scepter, Garble. Take it, and do what you earned the right to do.”

He swallowed. Then after a second of debate, Garble reached hesitantly, shaking with not just his hand but entire body as fear, excitement, pride, joy, honor, all of it and so much more overwhelmed him; by the time he realized, the scepter was in his claws. In his talons, and then he felt that wave of immense and indescribable energy flow through him as the scepter recognized him as the new Dragon Lord.

The world was silent. It broke when Lord Torch’s tail slammed into the ground  demanding attention. Garble looked at his predecessor and swallowed at the sudden difference in their size.

“Go out that cave Dragon Lord Garble. While this was not the way we usually do it,” the lord flashed him a weary toothy grin, “this is what it has to be, I suppose. Now go. Let those louts out there know who’s boss. And don’t you dare let me down.”

Garble took in those words, looked out towards the light in the distance that was the cave's entrance, then with one final glance and tired grin from his predecessor he puffed his chest, spread his wings, and took off towards the entrance.

He paused for a moment, wings flapping as he looked back at Lord Torch.Wondering if he would follow. When he did look back, Lord Torch merely goaded him with his head to continue before he turned back to face his sleeping jewels. One that slumbered for an unknown time, one that slumbered for eternity.

Without realizing he’d done it on his own, Garble took in the strong image Lord Torch represented. He wanted that. He wanted to do that. Become, that. Even after losing Ember, he didn’t hear a sniffle or a cry. No moping. No groaning. No wailing. He was firm, solid. Stalwart. From the point after they found her, to now, Lord Torch hadn’t shed a single tear nor lashed out at anyone in anger.

The young dragon felt his claws tighten around the scepter. As they did, it hummed silently in response.

Casting a glance towards the moonlight that shone at the mouth of the entrance, Garble felt a pressure build in his chest. He took that as pride and ambition, flapping his wings towards the entrance. When Garble got outside, all the dragons stared at him in silence. Eyeing him. Studying him. Judging him. Many were his age. Many had participated in the Gauntlet. Few were older, and even less were fully grown adults. His breath felt restrained. Then one of his chums stepped forward, and with a mighty intake of breath, roared in acceptance. Other dragons followed soon in suite. Dragon Lord Garble, hesitated, then in a puff of smoke that blew away with the wind all nervousness vanished as he raised his scepter with pride. Whispering a promise, he stated. “I’ll do my best, to bring back glory to all dragons.”