If It Were Only A Dragon [Chapter 8]

We followed the ruined cliff side for a while longer until a semi-intact stone stairway availed itself to us. It took a nauseating turn down a steep incline, seemingly carved out of the soft, perilous sandstone wall. The bottom reaches of the steps were near impossible to determine past the salt spray and lingering fog. Nemona led without a word, followed by the young necromancer. I couldn’t help but follow.

To take my mind off it, I announced something I had been thinking. “If we do have necromancy at our disposal… the capital has many graves and graveyards. Could an army of the undead aid us in this fight against the dragon?”

I heard the young man snicker. I could have pushed him off into the sea right there if I hadn’t been too afraid to lose balance and fall in after. Even from behind, I could tell Nemona was shaking her head.

“For the first thing, I doubt the people of the city would care to see the gruesome sight of their dead loved ones rising up from the ground.”

“What if we only resurrect the sour old aunties and other folk that people couldn’t stand in life?”

“Denied,” Nemona glanced back. “Plus, old dry bones are extra flammable. And it’s not like we have the necromantic power to pull an entire army from the ground.”

I nodded, forcing myself to kick the idea from my head. “Fine, fine. So there’s no other necromantic types like you, kiddo?” I asked Edward. I realized that he was doing an awful lot for me, and I had barely said a word to him.

“A few old blokes, gross ones,” mumbled the young man.

“No elves?”

“Elves don’t practice necromancy,” Nemona said back curtly.

“Because it is a dark, dirty magic that is forbidden and also beneath you?”

“Because Elves are bound to live long enough lives on this sphere. If you were to raise an elf from their deserved eternal slumber, they would curse you. With words and hexes both. I dare say it has happened.”

I gulped but my curiosity endured. “But… you must see many human deaths in your times, though. Would there not be any of us you would wish to see again?”

“What makes you think we wish to fraternize with humans more than necessary?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” I sighed, watching my every step as the stone stairs felt more and more rickety. “What even is down here?”

“The Tomb of Forgotten Kings,” the elf said with a low voice. ‘Or, what’s left of it. It suffered the same fate as the old capital.”

The steepness was starting to give way to a more even path. I didn’t dare look back and think about how far we would have to climb back up. The air was thick with salt and fog, and the rush of the waves below could be heard clearly. My ears popped as if I were climbing the stairs of the castle too fast.

Closer to the water was a boxy structure, half buried in the cliffside. A large chunk of it had come loose and fallen to the shallow water below. Crumbling cairns of eroded stone lay about the area, breaking up the already perilous path.

“These old kings, they must have been forgotten after the old capital fell, huh?” I asked. “Perhaps even fell into disgrace for allowing the city to stand here, despite warnings.”

“I guess?” Nemona shrugged. “I’ve seen plenty of human kings come and go, I hardly have a chance to remember their names. As for the rest of you humans… what sort of king would you remember? The one who supposedly killed a mythical dragon, or the king that developed streets and sewer systems to keep your cities more pleasant?”

“The second one, I’d say. I would also keep in mind the name of the King who dared to invent taxes.”

“Ah, something that both humans and elves can agree upon,” the elf said with a nod. “The concept is even older than me. Perhaps the concept was born from the underworld, rather than a king himself. Speaking of which, we’ve arrived.”

I had been too keen watching the waves and my own feet to notice the landmark before us. The main entrance was tucked into a deep crevice within the cliff. The carved stones were plastered with lichens and old dried sea growths. The whole place smelled of rot, like the fish market on a hot afternoon before the buckets of innards had been tossed to the gulls.

It must have felt like home to Edward, as he ducked inside the low door first. Nemona headed in second. As I entered, she had taken to summoning something like a wisp above her shoulder, glowing to bathe us in light, even in the depths of the cliffside.

I kept a watch on the mage’s back. The last thing I desired was the be lost within the labyrinth of death. It was only when I heard a crunch beneath my feet was when I looked down.

On the ground beneath my tread was a smattering of pale bones. I jumped back instinctively, unwilling to be the first to desecrate the tomb. “Gods, I’ve done it. Could this be the body of one of these old kings? I will not be haunted by the spirit of one of them will I?”

Both of the magi turned back and stared at the corpse.

“That is a dead gull,” Edward noted. “Did you not see the feathers? Poor thing, to get caught in here.”

I stepped over the corpse. “A body, nonetheless. And to be haunted by the spirit of one of those sky rats. Have you ever dared to eat food in their presence? They would snatch it directly from your throat if they could.”

The young man clicked his tongue and continued on his way. “Animal spirits are far less tenacious. Nemona, I sense stronger spirits this way.”

“Yes, the old notes I dug up said that the king’s chambers are at the center of the structure. Those spirits shall be our compass.”

There was all manner of moist hanging moss and spider webs within the cramped tunnels. The space was carved into the sandstone, but with larger pillars of hard stone to support the hallways. The odor of the sea was replaced by oldness— simply the odor of old things, and not just the elf.

“The spirits still hang to the bodies from when they were alive, it would seem,” I asked, seeing if I could not piece together the secrets of necromancy.

Edward nodded pensively, his face obscured in the musty darkness. “The old blokes say that the underworld mirrors our world.”

“If it mirrors our world, then do dead people even know they’re dead?’

The elf spoke up. “I don’t know, something about the term ‘underworld’ makes it seem a less pleasant place. Like full of unending screams, rain of blood… deathly taxes.”

“Well, thank you for making me fear death that much more,” I sneered. “Good Edward, remember my face if I am to pass in battle. Well, in the case of my face being utterly mangled, I have a fairly identifying birthmark my left buttcheek that you can go off of. Not that I plan to die against any dragon or any other force. What I mean to say is, I promise I wouldn’t mind you bringing me back from this underworld place for a bit. Perhaps I would be a good undead minion.”

Edward didn’t answer. He was up against a wide stone plinth with faded carvings. “I feel them. Beyond here.”

Nemona pressed her hand against the stone. Without thinking, I took the initiative, pushing up with them. “Well, a door of some sort? Between me, a kid, and an ancient woman, I figure this is a job for the least frail of us.”

The other two stepped back. My arms were able to reach either side of the stone. My fingers, dug tight into the cracks at either side, could feel the faint cold aid on the other side.

“Reminder your training, Gladius,” I huffed to myself. “Lift with your legs, not your back.”

I felt the veins in my face throb and my teeth grind against each other. The side of my head was pressed hard against the cold slab and the segments of my spine felt as if they were having pleasant meetings with each other.

“Mr. Gladius?” Edward asked warily.

“That’s… Sir, if you don’t mind,” I said breathlessly.

“If you are to become an undead minion, I think it would be better if your bones were all intact.”

I felt the smallest bit of movement of the stone. I took it as a sign of the stone giving way. If I just got it at a different angle, I thought to myself, I would be able to move it the rest of the way.

“It’s on its way,” I huffed back, wiggling my already stiff fingers.

Before I could take the stone up in a forceful hug once more, Nemona wagged her fingers. With hardly a breath in her lungs, she inched it to the side. The stone ground against the floor with a low grating and rumble.

“I see, I see,” I noted, wiping my brow. “That is a magic you have demonstrated before. Well, good teamwork.”

Edward shoved himself between us and marched into the freshly unsealed chamber. The odor inside was even older and dustier.

“Let’s see. Souls of this tomb, I beseech you, come forth from the underworld,” he chanted. “Your audience is requested. Seek out your earthly bodies.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. A skeleton at the young man’s feet suddenly ambulated, its skull first, followed by a set of long, bony fingers. It spoke, its voice like a wind screaming past your window on the night of a storm.

“I beg you. My husband the king had me buried with him on his passing. Please get me out!”

Edward didn’t move. “Perchance were you the wife of King Swingaxe?”

“No, it was King—“

The necromancer kicked the wailing thrall off him before flashing a few magical signs with his fingers. “Sorry, we’re only looking for one king. It’s too late for you. Back to the underworld with you.”

“Noooo!!“

The skeletal body returned suddenly peace and quiet. I kept my eyes on it nonetheless, stepping over it with the greatest of care.

Nemona shined her magical light about. The tomb was lined with old pots and other crafts, all covered in dust and cobwebs. Upon one of the first long pedestals was an ornate casket, built of what looked to be an old local wood. It too looked decrepit, just as much as any of the other artifacts.

“Must we awaken all of these bodies to determine which of them is the Dragon Slaying King? I don’t see any names,” I said, scanning warily.

“That would be efficient, wouldn’t it?” Edward glanced back with a hopeful look. “But I must admit my powers are too limited in that aspect.”

“Ah, so no undead army raising, then?”

The young man rubbed at the back of his head. “No, raising mass graves is not the hard part. Binding and controlling the multitude of souls and keeping them from turning upon you with undead vengeance is another. And think how bold and rowdy the souls of kings would be.”

He finished the cautionary tale by rapping his fingers on the nearby casket. Nemona clicked her tongue. “This man has connections to the Living King, Edward. Don’t make him put in a bad word about your kind.”

“Whatever.”

“No,” the elf sighed, changing the subject. “We will be able to tell which of the one is our king, I’m sure.”

The tomb continued deeper. I heard the dripping of water somewhere in the distance, punctuated by the low padding of our feet across the cold floor. Any trinkets or baubles still decorating the tomb at that point were buried too deeply in dust, or had simply crumbled into oblivion. Edward stopped suddenly and turned to an open spot in the wall. Nemona pushed past me and dragged her hands across the object.

“This must be him,” Nemona remarked, her word hasty.

I waved the dust from my face and looked upon the object, gashes cut through the dust by the elf’s hands. It was yet another casket, one without any ornamental markings. It was also much larger and longer than any of the other caskets. If I had, curse the thought, laid inside it myself, I would have had ample room.

“King Swingaxe? And this coffin is not an embellishment? Thought, to think it through, a man capable of slaying a dragon must have been…”

“Huge,” Nemona finished. “Bring him to us, Edward. Gladius, help me remove this lid.”

The elf and I pushed back the heavy wooden covering. To say I was expecting a skeleton is a given, but I also imagined seeing gold or jewels, a weapon, or even a crown to show off his kingliness. All that rested upon the desiccated form was a cloth over his loins and a wooden pendant on a necklace of leather that had mostly disintegrated.

The dark magic of the necromancer sucked the remaining warmth from the room. I felt as if the ground were going to sink beneath my feet, into a pit many feet down. “Swingaxe, great King, I call thy name. Find this body that once bound your soul within this mortal realm.”

The massive bones rattled. I struggled to take a breath. I watched the jaw upon the skull fix itself in place as if it were attempting to utter soundless worlds.

“Who’n aen thi?” The deep voice came from deep within the body. It sat up shakily, placing both hands on either side of its casket.

“What now?” I said, split between what I was seeing and what I was hearing.

“Ah crap,” Nemona shuffled her feet anxiously, pushing up between me and the young man. “I forgot all about the linguistic shift all those centuries ago. Let’s see if I can remember my old Recksian. Err, wae aen… magiker. Land ere be oin drago. Dere king sleth drago im tiem. Thinks thi member. Ho’n thi… sleth drago… please?”

I leaned in to whisper to the necromancer. “Do you know what she’s saying?”

“Can’t help you there,” the young man whispered back.

“Drago!” The old king bellowed, the raspy cry finding every inch of the tombs. Dust and rubble trickled from between the bricks of the ancient masonry. “Neen no wegness. Yet oin. Thi cloace. Thi rektum.”

“Recktum?” I spoke up. “Did he say something about the Kingdom?”

“Uh, no…” Nemona said back. “It is…”

Before the elf could say more, the undead fellow began to push himself up from the casket. “Drago!” He bellowed, spitting more words that sounded like war itself.

“Ney, ney, King,” Nemona said something that probably was to calm him, but it did little. “Ed, send him back. Now!”

The young man stepped up and began chanting lowly. “Return thee, spirit! Return to your rest. Go!” With a smack from the base of his palm, the old decrepit king’s skull was sent flying from his body, falling into one of the old dusty corners. The rest of the body crumpled back into the casket.

I took the first breath in what felt like ten minutes. “He seemed upset.”

Nemona patted at the skeleton to make sure it was in place. “I think he got… a little bit excited about the chance to fight another dragon. But as I said, I don’t think it would be wise to invite him along. For more than a few reasons.”

“But he knows how to slay one, then?” I asked hopefully. “The old tales are true? There’s some weak point to take advantage of?”

Nemona took in a long sigh and placed her forehead in her hand. “He did say a thing. But… maybe I got the translation wrong. Cause it didn’t make sense. Or rather… to even consider it is crazy.”

I slapped my hands together, ready to hear anything. “Yeah, well I’ve endured a lot of crazy these last couple of days. Tell me this weakness. Tell me anything.”

“The word I got was… cloaca,” she said, sucking in a breath through her teeth.

“And… that translates to…?”

Edward hummed knowingly. “It is one of our words if I’m not mistaken. It is a word for… well, for example in chickens and other birds… there is a single hole for crapping and egg-laying.”

“For reptiles, it is the same,” Nemona confirmed, knuckles on her mouth. “Scaly-type creatures. Which includes…”

“No,” I stopped the both of them with a shaking of my hands. “A dragon’s weakness is their asshole? No thank you, the Kingdom shall fight this creature like a civilized army. Thank you both for your help, but this may have been a fool’s errand. Not that I consider either of you fools…”

“That only leaves one of us,” Edward quipped.

I snapped my fingers at the young man. “No, no fool would be able to lead an army to face and take down a beast as dangerous as a dragon. Lead us out of here so I may return to this duty.”

<– Previous Chapter | Next Chapter –>

If It Were Only A Dragon [Chapter 7]

Early that next morning, I managed to pawn Farvin off on my squire. “Begin requisitioning supplies for the journey out east. Twenty… perhaps thirty, no forty horses, with rations and camp-making supplies for two weeks for the same amount of riders, and swords that are extra sharp. Perhaps a handful of heavy bows and their own quivers of arrows. I’ll also need my special shampoo and a down feather pillow, but only for myself. And ask the quartermasters if they have anything to treat burns.”

At the promised time, I went to the north gate of the city, alone, as asked. I saw the elven mage first, eyes scanning everyone and everything passing that gate at that time as if she were a sentry. As I came closer, I noticed another beside her, head and body shrouded in a cloak.

“Good, you’ve come alone,” Nemona greeted as I approached. She glanced around behind me to confirm the fact.

“And you… haven’t,” I said, trying to determine the role of the other individual. “We are walking, I assume?”

“Yes. But before that… know that the magics you may experience today in my midst are perfectly benign and used under proper supervision.”

I nodded and glanced at the robed figure once more. “As long as it takes me closer to my duty of defeating this dragon, I will say no more.”

I had barely ventured outside the capital city during my precious lifetime, and the few times were certainly not on foot. However, I figured that it would be a good warm-up for the upcoming journey east to fight the dragon. The main road forked off toward a smaller route that continued along the coast, rising and falling with the natural shape of the seaside cliffs and promontories.

Despite most of my exercise being from standing stiffly at the King’s side day after day, the elf was clearly tiring out before me. The cloaked figure seemed to maintain a fixed distance behind us, not saying a word, nor showing signs of slowing down.

I crept up beside the elf and attempted to get information about the situation. “If this task deals with the dead… don’t tell me that you’ve invited a… necromancer to join us today?”

The elf huffed louder than normal. “You’re quite the keen one, Mr. Warmaker.”

“It’s Sir Gladius,” I corrected. “Is… necromancy not a taboo, especially in the halls of the Ministry of Magics?”

Nemona mocked my words in a low voice. “Oh, and I’m guessing your king wants to tell the people with destructive magical powers what or what not to do?”

“I wouldn’t dare, especially if it’s going to help me do my job,” I said, glancing back. “Are all necromancers naturally this dreary, or does the art do this to them over time?”

Nemona shuffled to a halt and glanced back. “Well, he is kind of a dreary person, nocturnal even. He’s actually asleep right now. It’s a good time to wake him though, the levitation magic is taking a toll on me.”

“Asleep?”

Nemona backtracked to the hooded figure and pulled his hood back. He was without pointed ears and even had a fairly youthful face. His face twitched just a little in response to the late morning sun. The elf suddenly grabbed at his collar and slapped him on either side of the face.

“Edward, it is time to wake up! I can’t carry you all this way!”

He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes. As Nemona let him down, I saw him drop several more inches to the ground, revealing his true height beneath the cloak.

“Are we there yet?” he said in raspy voice.

“No,” said the elf, tugging on his collar again to keep him from reeling backward onto the road. “You’ll need to walk the rest of the way.”

“Ugh,” the young necromancer said with a groan. “Daywalkers, huh,” he said, glancing at me. I didn’t know if he was talking to me, so I didn’t respond.

“I told you to not call people that,” Nemona corrected, shoving him forward ahead of us. “If anything, you’re the strange one. We’re quite normal. Am I wrong, Mr. Warmaker?”

“Uh, yeah.”

The ocean view slowly came into sight as the morning fog cleared and the path took us closer to sea level. The pale tide-bitten cliffs continued on for quite a while.

“He’s so young,” I said, my voice low to avoid incurring any unnecessary wrath from someone with assumedly strange and dark powers. “It wasn’t some sort of career questionnaire that sent him on this questionable path of study? Like, ‘what type of people interest you the most— A: the healthy, B: the sick, or C: the deceased?’”

Nemona shook her head. “Interesting story with this one. It all started with a pet chicken. One day it died. Well, was killed.”

“That’s not a pet, then, is it?”

“No, but who knows what naive human children think?” She shrugged. “Well, as I heard, that was the day that the boy learned that chicken the meat and chicken the animal were one and the same. Soon, he decided he was going to be a vegetarian.”

“A what? Is that some sort of pre-necromantic mage?”

The elf shook her head. “No, it just means he doesn’t doesn’t eat any animals now. At least he didn’t fall face-first into being a vegan.”

“Is that worse?”

“They don’t eat anything related to an animal. No eggs, no milk… who knows what else?”

I rolled the memory of my last few meals through my head, wondering what would be left for one of those vegan folks. “Do they eat just… leaves and rocks then?”

“That would be about it. I’m more sorry for them than anything.”

I nodded in agreement. “I can understand the trauma from the pet chicken, but that doesn’t explain how the boy ended up into necromancy.”

“Right, that ordeal. Edward here is a big reader. Well, even certain unsavory magical tomes end up mistaken for recipe books or whatever and end up in regular libraries. Long story short, the boy got caught buying all sorts of strange ingredients for a ritual. One involving the carcass of his old pet chicken.”

I shivered at the thought. “And someone caught him before it all went down?”

“Let’s just say that a fleshless chicken carcass doesn’t ambulate quite like a live chicken, especially after it’s been turned into a nice broth. But it can make an awful mess and racket.”

I stared at the young man, skinny and unimposing, wafting along the path ahead of us. “And to think he was only a beginner at the art.”

“Indeed,” the elf nodded. “I’ve argued with quite a number of humans on the topic of talent and magic. For us elves, magic is in our blood. But latent talent is something that some have and others don’t. And if you don’t have it, well, sucks to be you. We took in Edward here after… terminating… his ritual. If you don’t nurture these types, they can develop into real weirdos.”

I glanced at the elf. “I’m sure they would.”

The road continued to a more jagged area of cliff faces. The salt-air-loving grasses clung to the edges of the landscape, many of their long roots floating in plain air. Up a long incline, we caught up with the young necromancer.

“Are we almost there, Nemona?” he asked tiredly. “And please tell me you packed a lunch.”

“I made futo sandwiches for all of us!”

“Futo? I see,” I said, pretending I knew what that was.

“So you know of our elvish delicacy,” Nemona nodded at me with almost a sign that she was impressed. “But we must save them for the journey back. Else you want to exhaust yourself early and have to camp out in the tomb.”

Over the hill, we came across a sparse collection of farmhouses. Nearer to the cliff were sandstone buildings in a tighter grouping. I caught up with the two mages. “Are we getting close?”

“This is just about it,” Nemona said back. “Surely you know where we are?”

“Unless this is the location of a famous battle, I doubt I would know of it.”

The elf rolled her eyes. “Of course, young little human. This is the remains of the old capital. Well, all that remains here is the old surrounding town.”

“Ah, of course, the old capital,” I said. I wasn’t aware of any such thing. “Is this old capital as old as you?”

“I’d appreciate it if you did not use my age as a milestone for how old something inanimate is. It is in fact, older.”

“And what happened to it?”

“Let’s have a look, shall we?” Nemona said back with a wink.

We traveled through the town, pulling the attention of just about every local. The sandstone buildings were practically on the edge of the cliff. Some were even threatened by the erosion of the cliffs below. When we reached the precarious edge, I suddenly understood the elf’s comment.

The water was the pale blue as I knew it, stained with white turbulence from under the surface. The waves crashed over old blocky structures, their sharp corners carved away over time, but still clinging to their man made uniformity.

“The old capital, left to the mercy of the waters,” Nemona said, almost mockingly.

“Something once so beloved and revered now torn asunder,” Edward hummed.

“How many times have I told you to not say such dismal things?” The elf huffed at the young man.

“Sorry, miss,” he said sheepishly, bowing his head.

“So what happened here?” I asked, staring out at the submersed stonework.

“Well, some old kingly types thought that this would be a nice place for a castle. At some point in the building process, a mage with knowledge of earth magics told them that it would never last, that the sandstone wasn’t a good place to build so high. Well, you can probably guess why people started respecting the magics a little bit.”

I nodded and inched away from the edge even further than I was. “It wasn’t the old, old, king that planned this mess? The one who also supposedly slew the dragon?”

“I doubt it, but feel free to ask him,” Edward smirked back, cracking his knuckles.

I sighed and nodded, hoping that this would all come to fruition.

<– Previous Chapter | Next Chapter –>

If It Were Only A Dragon [Chapter 6]

Eriques leaned close to me and whispered. “A five-hundred-year-old elf? Would that be a milf or a gilf by elf standards?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” I said, shoving the squire out of my personal space.

He attempted once more to whisper at me. “Maybe they don’t have mothers and grandmothers. How do elves reproduce? Do they just pop out of the ground?”

“That’s dwarves,” Farvin said proudly. “I mean, from what I heard back at home. I’ve never met one, but the mountains near my home contain dwarvish ruins. And they’ve got to come from somewhere.”

“Nemona!” Scender called forward into the hall. “Are you present?”

Down the hall came a wavering voice. “How many times have I said not to call my name when I’m working?”

“Of course, well, you’re always working,” the guide elf shouted back. He turned back to us and continued in a lower tone. “Nemona isn’t like a lot of elves, or humans for that matter. But if it’s a dragon you wish to speak to her about, she’ll perk right up.”

Scender slowed and scanned the alcoves of the space. There didn’t seem to be anyone else there among the messy tables and piles of books, many left open across every inch of open space. There was a sudden sound of tumbling, followed by a low oof and despondent sigh. A head of sleek, dark hair tied back in a braid poked up from behind a pile.

“There you are,” Scender sighed. “We’ve guests, asking for someone of your expertise in particular.”

The woman elf propped herself up on the nearby pile of books. Her face looked far from that of a five-hundred-year-old, except perhaps for the wide, round glasses propped up on her nose.

“Guests? On a day like today?” She whimpered, side-eying the three of us.

“And what is today, Nemona?” Scender asked.

“A day I had to exist,” she sighed and finally attempted eye contact. “My apologies, good sirs. I was just reading.”

Eriques once more took my ear. “I don’t think we’ll get along with her. The magics of these books have clearly driven her mad.”

I chose to ignore my squire and speak to the person who was thrilled to see us. “I heard you were familiar with dragons.”

Her demeanor changed instantly, and she even dared to step out from behind her books. Her eyes studied me like I was a freshly copied volume. “Yes, and what about dragons?”

Scender tried his best elvish way to hide a smirk. “It seems another has appeared in our lands, after all this time. These folk have come from the castle to seek knowledge. I wish you luck on your endeavors, sirs.”

Nemona clapped her hands together before her chest. “I can’t believe it, after all this time! And you have confirmed it with your eyes?”

Farvin lowered his head and nodded. “I have seen it, miss. It came across the mountains and attacked my lands, far in the east.”

“Oooh,” she squealed. “If I could have been there! If you’ve come from the castle, that means… you want me for an ecological study? Do you understand how rare a sighting this is?”

“I’m actually…” I began, wondering how to break the news. “I’m from the Ministry of Arms. Gladius, at your service. I am acting by the King’s orders to slay the beast.”

I must say, I never would have expected that a slap to the face from a five-hundred-year-old would have dealt me such surprise and harm, but that is indeed what happened. My squire, who would have defended my honor to the last (depending on the proximity to payday) didn’t dare to budge. The elf set her sighs on Farvin next, who recoiled into a pile of books behind him.

“And you! I do not know what town from the east you’re from, but the mountains out there are technically the dragon’s land. Humans are an invasive species!”

“I’m terribly sorry, my birthplace was not my choosing!”

Nemona stomped around a few times, glancing all directions away from us before she sucked in a long breath. “Well, it’s not like you could slay it, even.”

“Excuse me?” I said, taken aback.

The elven mage shrugged. “Dragons are near impossible to kill.

“Nuh uh,” Eriques butted in. “The book that Gladius and I looked at said they only had no weakness.”

“Good memory, my squire,” I said, folding my arms across my chest and glaring down at the elf. “I, for example, have no weakness either— parsnips aside— but I certainly could still be killed. Like by a fall from one of the castle walls, or by… being bored to death through overindulgence of books. Any living thing can be killed.”

Nemona twirled one of her dark locks and strutted around her study. “Then die by one of my piles of books, for all I care. All will tell you that dragons can’t be killed by humans hands.”

“But you’ve encountered one before, of course?” I insisted. “What was done to end that one’s reign?”

“Oh, believe me, the men of this kingdom tried… against my wishes and better judgment,” she reminisced. “Ranks of men, burned to a crisp or stomped. The flying in from nowhere and the breathing of fire are one thing. But on top of that, dragons have thick scales that cannot be pierced by any sort of weapon. A tail that can knock over buildings with a single swipe. Talons that could gut even the tallest of horses. Rotting, fetid breath from decades of sleep. They’re likely even as smart as your squire there.”

“That last part may be a bit of an overestimation. But what happened to that dragon back then?”

The elf sighed wistfully and picked at her braid. “It eventually disappeared across the mountains once more. To the unknown lands. I believe it was just a young dragon, trying to seek out a territory of its own. It was quite beautiful if you would believe it. Its form has remained in my dreams ever since. Truly, I have been waiting for the day that a dragon reappears for us.”

“Oh, your dreams come true, then. Though, you’d like such a monstrous beast to eventually fly here to the royal capital?” I questioned her. “I’ve also heard that dragons love shiny things. It might decide to settle upon these pretty towers of the magi like a bird to a nest. It is my duty to take care of this problem before that happens.”

“I would welcome the dragon with open arms if it were to come our way!” She said, her hands spread wide.

“There is a multitude of flammable things and people that would probably want otherwise,” I said. “I don’t know about those folks three hundred years ago, but our Kingdom has learned plenty since then. Surely we can forge a sharp enough blade to run a dragon through. And magics could help us against the fire. And if you stick by our sides and continue to provide your… wisdom, when all is said and done, you may have at the corpse.”

The elf was jerked out of her daydream of dragons and spun around to face me. “I see, I see. The remains. No, that reminds me. Perhaps one of the tales is true, about the warrior who slew a dragon.”

Eriques nudged me. “We are getting somewhere, Glad.”

“You see, we have some artifacts here in our possession, dragon bone carvings,” she said, mostly talking to herself. “Nothing quite like them, they hold magics quite efficiently. I wondered about them, and where they would have come from. Well, a dead dragon, of course. I have thought, is our land dragon-free because any inhabiting our land were killed, even long ago? There is speak of an ancient king of this land who did so as his rise to power. But it was even before my time. If only I could remember his name…”

Several piles of books dustily crumpled and fell as she jerked back. The mage paid the clouds of dust no mind while continuing to dig and mumble to herself. I caught sight of Farvin off in an alcove, leaning to peer out the top part of a mostly obscured window.

“Thinking of home?” I asked him.

“If it is not already burned to the ground. Will this mage really provide us with anything useful?”

“A reminder that the magics will never do what a sword can,” I chuckled.

“I have it!” Nemona’s voice echoed from the chamber. “King Swingaxe.”

I crept back out into the makeshift walkway to find her and hear her story. “And what about him?”

“He’s called the first of the Forgotten Kings,” she wagged a finger astutely.

“Well, I’ve never heard about him,” Eriques huffed.

“That’s likely why they’re called the Forgotten Kings,” I said with a shrug. “What do your books say about him?”

“That… he became the first King of the Kingdom of Reck after saving the people of this land from the threat of a dragon.”

Farvin marched back beside us with haste. “And does it say how?”

“It does not,” Nemona said plainly. “But… his body is apparently buried in a tomb not far from here.”

She held her breath like she was expecting us to celebrate in unison. “Well, if you don’t know what that means, you’re better off. But I’ll just say that there could still be information to be gleaned, even after all these centuries. Mr. Warmaker, it seems like you are pressed on time. Tomorrow morning… when the light hits these towers… meet me at the north gate… alone.”

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