Land of Salvania

  (From the series "Gerantus and Pall") Pall glided overhead in silence, just another shard of midnight breeze. Gerantus, accustomed to his friend's terrifying hunting skills, stood at the edge of the Dreamwood with his lamp, thorns tugging at his woolen trousers. They had been on alert all night, Pall circling among the stars and Gerantus cursing the thorns, as the battle raged in the distance. "We are old and pitiful," Pall had said the day before. "Let the children play at death. They'll never learn to hate it unless they feel it." "Speak for yourself," Gerantus had grunted even as he felt the familiar twinge in his lower back. "We have some role to play yet. I know it." So here they were at midnight, seeking some way to help without feeling as useless as a first-time father watching his mate give birth. "Maybe we can spot retreating enemy and finish them," Gerantus had offered as the sun had set and the sound o

  (From the series "Gerantus and Pall") The Yunni arrow was still quivering between Gerantus' feet. He dared not move or even blink. "I mean no harm," he called into the forest. "I live nearby." A crow somewhere above him called out, less strident than a moment earlier, a cross between a growl and a laugh. Gerantus heard a soft rustle to his left, and a Yunni appeared from behind a shrub that should have never been able to conceal him. Gerantus was shocked how close the Yunni had come even after he was on guard. The Yunni was small, about three feet high. He carried a bow that was at least four feet long. He had a quiver full of arrows, and one was already nocked. "You have disturbed my father's rest," the Yunni said, looking at the clay pots filled with bones. Gerantus looked at the pots and back at the Yunni. "I am sorry. My friend Pall said the owls told him about..." Gerantus nodded at the pots. "This. I came

  (From the series "Gerantus and Pall") Pall sunned himself on the high ramparts of the abandoned fortress he shared with Gerantus. On this day, Gerantus had braved the spiral of rotting stairs to take in the spectacular view of the lush valley below. "How's the sun?" Gerantus asked, a little breathless from the climb. The prospect of falling through a wooden slat didn't help his galloping heart. Pall opened one eye, his forked tongue tasting the Spring air filled with pollen and new foliage. "Delightful." He stretched one wing and shook off a loose scale the size of a saucer. Gerantus caught it. "Good one," he said to the red dragon as his artist's eye examined the scale. "I can carve this one into a wolf, I think." "Ah, speaking of 'treasure' that reminds me," Pall said, ribbing his human friend who, he had to admit, had a unique talent to turn his shed scales into art. "The owls say they have

  (From the series "Gerantus and Pall") Gerantus was labeled "peculiar" by those who didn't know him and "amazing" by those who did. He and the dragon Pall occupied a run-down fortress abandoned a generation earlier by all but owls. The townsfolk in the valley below loved to spread the rumor, possibly started by Gerantus, that he subdued the dragon, making it his pet. The truth was even better. As a babe, Gerantus was left in the care of a kindly aunt in the south of Salvania. She was a friend to the area creatures, so taking in a small human was no more worrisome than tending a baby squirrel. Gerantus grew up roaming the ancient forests with as much stealth and skill as his animal friends. He also exceeded his aunt by befriending Pall, a red dragon. They stumbled on each other in a forest opening. Pall was scraping his long snout across some rocks, and Gerantus was intrigued. Pall had a tick "the size of a grapefruit" buried under his chi