Rage of the Dragon

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“I am Farinn the Talgogroth, the Voice of Gogroth, God of the World Tree. Attend me! For now I will tell the tale of Skylan Ivorson, Chief of Chiefs of the Vindrasi, the greatest of the Chiefs of the mighty Dragonships.” The old man paused and then said, with a sigh, “The greatest and the last.”

He paused, both for dramatic effect and to soothe his throat with a honey posset.

The time was winter, the time for the telling of tales. Outside the great hall made of stout beams and hewn logs, the land was white with snow. The night was still and bitter cold. Inside the hall an enormous fire burned. Men and women sat at their ease on benches at long tables, holding small, sleepy children in their laps. The young woman and her friends sat on the floor in front of the old man, as close as she could manage, for his voice, like him, was frail and liable to break. The young woman did not want to miss a word of this part of the tale, for it was her favorite part.

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