I recently read that medieval cartographers wrote “Hic sunt dracones” (Here be dragons) over any unexplored, unfamiliar, and/or potentially treacherous areas on their maps. I loved that concept. “I have nary a clue what’s over here. I’ll just put Hic sunt dracones and be done with it.”

But as it turns out, like lots of “facts” I encounter, it’s not true. Humph. The Lenox Globe, completed around 1503 AD, is the only known cartographer’s work featuring the words “HC SVNT DRACONES.” It appears on the east coast of Asia. And that’s it. It was not a common practice. I was lied to.

However, after the sting of the lie wore off, I realized where the words Hic sunt dracones should appear on maps. They should be emblazoned right over my house.

My house is full of dragons. They are everywhere. You can’t even sit on the toilet without finding a dragon staring straight at you. Dragon figurines. Dragon books. Dragon duct tape. Dragon stuffed animals. There is, in fact, a dragon staring at me right now. (And no, I’m not on the toilet.)

So even though ancient maps don’t really say Here be dragons, we now know the answer to the question: Where be dragons? And here it is: They’re at Kelly Wolf’s house. All maps should be marked accordingly.

Now I just need to convince the folks at Google Maps that this is a legit idea.

[It should also be noted that the back of my car looks like this. I don’t think the mini-knight has much of a chance.]

When I began writing the story of Aret, I knew the protagonist would have a hostile male counterpart, but the details of his character remained a mystery to me. His early conception was as the villain Rotpac – a dragon slayer resembling a vile, decrepit sorcerer. He even had a nasty little henchman. I remember crafting a scene in which he and his toady tortured the protagonist’s mate and forced her to watch. It was gross.

As the story gained momentum, the male character grew in importance, and as his role morphed, his grossness became an issue. Although he was developing into a more complete human being, accompanied by some engaging attributes, at his core, he was still an unsavory individual.

It soon occurred to me that having such an unpleasant primary character might not be agreeable to readers, so I strove to make him less repellent. His name changed from Rotpac to Sien Dolsmati; his appearance, communication, and motivations shifted, becoming softer and gentler, while maintaining the threatening edge required for the story.

These changes weren’t made only for readers, however. An equally compelling reason to make him more desirable was for the sake of our protagonist, Diana Scarlett, who has to spend a lot of time with Sien. As Diana’s character developed, I grew fond and protective of her, and I didn’t want her hanging out with someone so revolting.

Sien as he lives and breathes today is a towering Aretian human – just over 7 feet tall – with blue lips and patterned skin. He is courageous, patient, and determined, but also hawkish, calculating, and vindictive. While I first envisioned his physical form as gnarled and ghoulish, with inner workings to match, now he is more like this:

And at times, he still goes by the name Rotpac.

[NOTE: Readers sometimes get hung up on the pronunciation of Sien’s name (See-en). Think of it like the word sienna, minus the third syllable.]

My four-year-old nephew is highly imaginative, and when he was but a wee lad of three, he became the caretaker of a pack of panthers. Panthers are solitary creatures, so I’m not sure why these particular panthers have agreed to hang together. It must just be for my nephew’s sake. He is pretty awesome.

When my nephew chooses to educate me about his panthers, which he does with relative frequency, each informative statement begins with the words, “MY panthers…” For example, if I happen to mention that panthers live in rainforests, my nephew will say, “MY panthers live in castles at the South Pole,” or, “MY panthers live under the ocean. But only sometimes.” His panthers also fly and eat Rice Krispies.

When creating the dragons of Aret, I seem to have channeled the audacity of a very small child. This is one of the nice things about writing within the fantasy genre, as opposed to sci-fi. You can kinda do whatever the hell you want, and the only explanation needed is:  “Because I said so.” “Why do my dragons have human-like hands? Because I said so. Why do my dragons occasionally sit in gigantic chairs? Because I said so.” It’s like a writer’s version of beleaguered parenting.

All of that being said, MY dragons not only have human-like hands (albeit clawed and scaly), but they also have complex systems of government, language, and familial structure, no points of physical weakness, and lifespans that extend for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.

In the Aretian dialect, my dragons are called Teravalta. The Matriarchs are Valtamani, and the Patriarchs – Valtaduri. Our protagonist, the Red Matriarch, is the Valtamani Skara, and her mate, the Black Patriarch, or Valtaduri Noro, is known by Aretian humans as the Norofatela, meaning “Black Death.”

My dragons are divided into eight castes:  Red (Skara), Black (Noro), Blue (Aza), Gold (Arua), Green (Emyr), White (Braza), Indigo (Mora), and Silver (Agno). The Silver and Gold castes are extinct – casualties of an ongoing war – and constant conflict, driven by contrasting views of humans, plagues the other six. For while some castes wish to live peacefully among humans, others see them as an inferior species, valuable only as food.

I’d like to say more about my dragons, but I’m approaching spoiler territory. Suffice it to say that they are supremely badass, though some use their badassery for good and others for not-so-good, particularly if one happens to be human. I will say one more thing – my dragons can travel to Earth and assume human forms. That part is key to the story. And if you’re wondering why or how that happens, well…I’m sure you can imagine what my answer would be.

🙂