The First Krakun on Gerootec (Patreon)

Being born on the night of the new star, Kelle had always felt special, felt that he was destined for more. When he turned fourteen he had run away to Portsmouth—the city below the star—and begged the first knight he found to take him as squire. It had seemed like a dream come true when the knight finally agreed.

Sir Staris shoved Kelle with his boot, rolling the little black geroo from his warm pile of hay to the barn’s filthy floor. “Get up,” grunted the knight. “We’re leaving.”

Kelle rubbed the sleep from his eyes and peered past the knight to the open barn door. “It’s pitch black out,” he said.

“It’s fallen,” said the knight as he pulled his blesbok from its berth.

Starlight was the prettiest mount that Kelle had ever seen, but despite the blesbok’s beauty, her temperament more closely resembled that of her owner. The beast would bite or kick Kelle if he ever let down his guard.

Hiccup, in the other paw, was a sweetie. He never complained despite all the weapons and supplies the beast of burden was forced to carry.

“What has fallen, my lord?” asked Kelle as he set the saddle on Starlight’s back. She snapped at his tail and the geroo barely whipped it away from her in time. He almost hissed “Don’t!” but had long learned not to reprimand her in the knight’s presence.

He pulled the cinch tight and helped the knight climb up.

“Kelle has fallen.” The knight spurred his mount and Starlight bolted into the darkness.

Kelle stared at the vanishing knight, his jaw slack. The new star—his namesake—how could it have fallen? Stars don’t fall.

But, then again, they don’t just appear in the night sky either, do they? Well, none other than Kelle.

He wanted to rush to the door and search the sky for the missing star, but there was no time. He threw the heavy packs over Hiccup’s flanks and cinched them down. If he wanted to catch up with his master, he’d need to run.

# # #

Kelle jogged beside Hiccup to the city gates. At first he worried about losing Sir Staris. Would the knight leave through the northern gate or the southern one? But he quickly realized that he needn’t worry. Despite the hour, the roads were filled with geroo—many having rushed outside without their shoes and some without even a bracelet on their tail!

He tried not to stare.

All were staring up at the southern skies, searching for the star that had glowed so brightly that they could often see it during the day.

Kelle wanted to search the skies too, but there was no time. He was panting hard with exertion and had wasted half his breath apologizing to the other geroo as he pushed past them toward the southern gate.

Once outside the city, he soon caught up with his master. Sir Staris had slowed his mount to a walk, allowing the squire to catch up. Kelle reached over and stroked Hiccup’s neck, the smaller blesbok matching his pace but not walking close enough to risk crushing the geroo’s paws with a pointy hoof.

Kelle’s mind filled with endless questions. Why had the star fallen? Where had it gone? Would they find it? There were so many things he wanted to ask! But he knew better. Unless pertinent to the job Staris expected of him, he didn’t want to hear questions.

Questions only earned Kelle a slap to the ear.

The pair walked two leagues to the south, past businesses and homes, then farms and farmhouses, and finally across low hills in the woods. They emerged into a clearing as the sun rose to their left and Sir Staris finally stopped.

Kelle brought Hiccup around him and stood by the knight’s side.

“What … is … that?” whispered the squire, then realizing he had spoken aloud, he flattened his ears against his head and braced himself to be hit.

But the slap never came.

Kelle looked up at his master but the knight stared straight ahead. “My shield,” he commanded.

Kelle dropped Hiccup’s lead and quickly pulled the jousting shield from Hiccup’s back, then held it high so Staris could slide his arm inside the grip. Then he lowered his lance and spurred his mount forward, kicking a glob of dirt into Kelle’s face.

Kelle held his breath as the knight quickly crossed the open land then winced at the sound of metal glancing against metal.

Sir Staris rode about in a loop as he prepared to take a second tilt, but then he slowed and stopped.

Kelle stared for several moments before cursing himself silently for not reacting sooner. He pulled on Hiccup’s lead and jogged to the knight’s side. “Your sword, my lord?” he asked.

Staris said nothing. He just probed the beast’s belly with the tip of his lance, jabbing it over and over, the metal ringing like a weaponsmith’s anvil.

“Ancestors help us,” he swore at last. “I cannot even scratch its armor!”

Kelle looked up, his jaw agape as he realized he was standing below the armored beast. The belly was round and smooth, and though he could see no mouth nor tail, three enormous legs surrounded them. But they did not swat at them or move at all. They merely held the creature aloft.

He was just about to ask what Sir Staris would do when the early spring air filled with the buzz of a thousand insects. The pair looked up to see that one of the sheets of armor was slowly hinging open and in a matter of seconds had formed a drawbridge that was easily large enough for the two to walk their mounts up, side-by-side.

Staris spurred his blesbok and with a bray, he charged up the ramp. Kelle hesitated another moment before hurrying after him, tugging Hiccup’s lead the whole way.

At the top of the ramp, Kelle found his master facing down a mighty dragon. Scaled in green and black, the beast towered above them. Kelle was terrified but Staris held his lance steady aimed directly at the creature’s heart.

“I am Yanagontiz,” gurgled the dragon, “and you will be my emissary to the people of this world.”

“I serve only the king!” shouted Sir Staris.

Then there was a mighty crash. Kelle looked up, but his master was gone. Starlight reared up in fright, turned, and ran.

“My lord?” gasped Kelle. He turned his head and spotted the knight laying on the floor, motionless, his body twisted and bent in a most unnatural way. “My lord?” Kelle asked, this time in a quieter, less certain voice.

Eventually he turned to face the dragon alone. Hiccup stood beside him, but he brayed and stomped his hooves in nervous anticipation. “Shh,” whispered the geroo, stroking the blesbok’s neck.

The dragon casually pulled Staris’s splintered lance from its wrist, the last couple feet stained with brownish-green blood.

“I am Yanagontiz,” repeated the dragon, “and you will be my emissary to the people of this world.”

Kelle stared with muzzle agape for many long seconds. Then he tried to swallow but his throat had gone dry. “My lord?” he squeaked.

The dragon waited a moment then slowly lowered his head until his snout was nearly an arm’s length away. He sniffed, then opened his mouth once more, exposing rows of jagged teeth, each a sword’s length from gum to tip.

“Who do you serve, tiny geroo?” asked the dragon.

Kelle glanced back to the crumpled pile of armor that the dragon had casually batted away like an insect. Sir Staris had not moved and Kelle suspected that he would never move again. The squire swallowed down his fear and turned back to the dragon.

“You, my lord,” he said.

The dragon gurgled a demonic chuckle. “Very well, tiny mammal, you seem to be a quick learner. And your lesson for the day was,”—he leaned closer to the geroo and the space between them filled with Kelle’s fear musk—“obedience yields life.”

The dragon sat back and stared in silence a moment before gesturing dismissively at the knight’s remains.

“Now haul that pile of refuse from my ship so we can get down to business.”