Dolphin Entertainment, LLC
The Death of a Dragon
PROLOGUE
Two figures sat on roughly hewn benches situated around a large crackling fire on a cold, dark wintery night. Light from the fire danced about as gusts of frigid air hit a glimmering magic barrier designed to prevent wind from snuffing it out. The constant sound of gentle crackling filled the air as flakes of snow fell into the flames, never to join the growing blanket beyond the warmth of the fire. Occasional puffs of smoke coming up from the hard wood found the noses of the two sitting around it, causing them to tingle. The area around the fire had been recently cleared and grooves of black, upturned soil left from snow shovels and scorches from the use of fire magic littered the area.
Both figures were clad in thick cloak with hoods drawn to shield themselves from the icy bite of the wind of the unusually harsh winter. It made gusting howls as it tumbled down over the icy cliffs of compacted snow that lay in most directions. The younger figure, a slender woman with feet outstretched toward the fire, shivered at the sound of the howling wind despite the magic in her thick cloak keeping her mostly warm.
The elder, the outline of his taller, strongly built figure obscured by his cloak, looked up from the fire to the other and took a deep breath. The magic woven into the very fabric of the cloak held the hood in place against the wind and warmed the air before it reached his face. Even so, the air remained cold enough to chill his lungs with every breath as he collected his thoughts and sighed. “Let me tell you a story. A story of a man when Terrebethia was still young and the reaches of Deep Magic stretched nearly to the surface.
“In a time long ago, before forgotten legend, a dragon soared through the skies. Wherever the dragon flew, terror arrived with it. If a city was fortunate, riders would spot the lumbering behemoth and would race ahead to warn any city that lay in its path. If not, the sound of the dragon’s roar echoing across the horizon would be the only warning before it arrived. No one knew where it came from, when it first arrived, or why it seemed to strike at cities or towns so arbitrarily ... only that when the bells tolled or the sound of the dragon’s roar rang out in the air, all should flee for their lives regardless of the time of day or night.
“It was on one such night when a young thief by the name of Titus, who was no older than eighteen, lay on a prison bed. His drab brown cloak that he used as a blanket and the clothes he wore were his only remaining possessions. Toward the middle of the night, he awoke to the hurried jingle of keys. The jailer’s hands trembled as he ran to the first cell door. At the edges of the thief’s mind, what was happening began to register. The Law’s Curse and the Thief’s Blessing. A dragon attack.
“So there he was, just pardoned because to leave him in the cell would have been condemning him to a death that he didn’t deserve …”
CHAPTER 1: THIEF'S BLESSING
Titus, stirred by the noise, shifted his position on his bed, which was little more than wide plank attached to the wall and held up by a chain off of each far corner. He pulled his cloak tighter about his neck. With a grumble, he kneaded his thin straw filled mattress in hopes of making it more comfortable in some way when the echoing sound of a metal cell door startled him fully awake. He sat up and craned his head toward the source of the noise.
“Get moving!” a bulky prison guard bellowed as he trudged quickly to the second cell. “Get whatever is yours and get out! No time to waste! Everybody up!”
The prisoner in the second cell shifted to a seated position on his bed and tilted his head at the guard. “What’s this about?” the red-headed man grumbled.
The guard grunted as he turned the key in the lock and partially pulled it open on squeaking hinges as he hurried to the next cell. “Riders just got to the city! They saw the dragon and rushed ahead!” He shoved the key into the next lock. “It’s coming here!”
“You don’t say?” the red-headed man asked with a malicious grin as he put on his boots and made for the stone stairs beyond the beginning of the cell block, only half watching where he was going.
Titus sat up and blinked as multiple thoughts raced through his head. “It’s coming here? How far? Where?” He leaped to a standing position on his bed and grabbed hold of the metal bars that were fastened into the seal a squat window near the ceiling. Wisps of cold air drift down onto his face as he reached as he pulled himself up onto his tiptoes to listen to the outside. The sound of protesting cell door hinges escaped his notice as his eyes widened and his jaw fell slack. A distant sound of bells began filling the still night ear. “Not again,” he murmured as his face became pale. “Not again …”
“You! Thief!” the guard yelled as he jammed the key into the lock of the Titus’ cell door. He forced the lock to relent with a sharp twist. “The dragon’s on its way here! Quit goof’en around and get a move on if you don’t want to be turned to ash along with the city, or do you think you’d fare better than stone and rock!”
Titus let go of the damp bars and his feet landed back on his bed with a barely muffled thud. “I heard even rock even melts,” he muttered as he stared past the guard into nothingness.
Titus was only vaguely aware of things as the guard continued rushing from one cell to the next and the prisoners uniformly ran out of their cells and made for the stairs. The guard stopped as he watched the last prisoner flee and sighed. “Now I gotta get me outta here, next. Hope everything is already mostly packed up …” He wiped sweat off of his brow and walked briskly toward the stairs when he suddenly glanced back at Titus’ cell. His heavy boots pounded on the floor as he rushed over and stomped up to him. “Snap out of it!” he shouted.
Titus jumped and nearly stumbled off the bed.
The guard glowered at him and grumbled, “I don’t want your blood on my hands just because you were too dumb to run off! Now get moving!”
Titus ran a hand through his mostly unkempt brown hair and let out a shaky breath as color came back into his face. “Sorry, I guess I got distracted” he murmured.
“Get distracted after you’ve fled! Just get out of here!” the guard yelled as he shoved his key ring onto a long, narrow hook held onto his plain blue gambeson by a cloth strap.
Titus nodded frantically for a moment and glanced down at the gambeson. The multiple layers of linen to would help protect against slashes and stabs, but did little to help downplay the guard’s bulk. Without uttering another word, the guard fled out of the dungeon. The sound of bells sounding throughout the city began to reach fully into the dungeon and echoed down both of its hallways.
Titus slipped down off the bed before landing in a seated position on its edge. He gave his hands a few half-hearted shakes to get the moisture off of them as his mind drifted back to what he could remember of his last flight from the dragon and he became numb to his surroundings. His head slowly tilted as he went into a listless stare when the bell outside the Hall of Law gave a particularly jarring ring followed by the sound of it crashing to a ground.
Titus snapped back to reality as grabbed and threw on his cloak, slid his feet into his thin, worn shoes and walked toward the door of his cell. He swayed for a moment and he grabbed one of the cell bars as his head dropped forward. He took a deep breath, shook his head vigorously, and released the bar. He swallowed and blinked as he looked at the drops of water that had clung to his hand after holding onto the cold, wet bars. After taking a moment to shake the drops off his hand, he continued out of the cell.
He gritted his teeth and held out his hand in a tight fist as he threw it toward the ground. He cursed himself in his thoughts and berated himself. “If only I’d held out instead of telling where I hid everything for a lighter sentence! I was only in for a few days and they hadn’t even decided if they wanted to lease me out somewhere else for labor or not …” His mind began to wander to what was going on in the city as a thought struck him.
He bolted up the stairs, and onto the ground floor of the imposing Hall of Law. The sound of laughter and of banging metal within the stone-walled structure met his ears and he rushed to the doorway it was coming from. Some of his fellow former-prisoners, all clad similarly in plain or tattered clothing, were using whatever metal implements they could find and were attacking the hinges on a metal door.
The muscular red-headed man from the second cell was partially seated on the edge of a desk and was shaking his head into the palm of his right hand. With a grunt, he glanced at the other prisoners and looked toward the door. A grin began to form as he stared at Titus. “Hey! You there!”
Titus looked at him and glanced over his worn brown canvas pants and a drab, stained, tan cotton shirt. He shifted his right foot back some. “What?”
“Don’t just stand over there! We could use your help with something. I know your reputation … You were the sneak thief who broke into people’s houses to steal valuables that you didn’t think they would miss. Help us with this lock and I’ll make it worth your while. There’s enough weapons and gain here to start a gang in any city we choose! Help us, and you’ll never go hungry again!”
“No, thanks!” Titus cried in reply as he waved his hands back and forth. “I won’t be a party to murder and pillage! I was only in it for food!” In a low mumble he quickly added, “With a bit of comfort,” as he took a slight step back.
“Suit yourself!” growled the red-headed man. I’ll remember this if we meet again, coward!” He turned to the other men and shoved one out of his way as he stomped on the wooden floor. “Check the desk for a dagger and get out of my way! I’ll show you how it’s done!”
Titus staggered back as he took in the look of pure malice that appeared on the face of the red-headed man, if only for a brief moment. He turned and ran out of the building with an increasingly distant look on his face. He glanced momentarily back at the large, castle-like three story stone structure and at the elegant letters scrawled on a sign above the main door that read, ‘Hall of Law. Judgment, Governance, Justice.’ His heart sank as his mind drifted back to how excited he had been with the last heist that led to his capture. “I should have just left instead of trying that. I would have had enough. Miss Noonshade would have understood …”
The sound of the chaos taking place in the streets drew his attention back to the present. All around him people were throwing what belongings they could gather into carts, wagons, or carrying them out in bundles of cloth. Some fled carrying children and nothing else more than the clothes on their backs. The mostly well maintained patchworks of stone and painted wooden buildings of the city were all in disarray. In the dim, flickering light of the oil street lanterns he was able to make out the flurried activity in the nearby business district where shop-owners were throwing their wares into wagons in hopes of salvaging their livelihoods.
“That looks familiar,” he mumbled as he shook his head and shivered. “I hope she got out alright …” He stood still amidst the chaos for a moment before he took off running toward the residential district while continuing to mumble to himself, “He got transferred so at least I know he’s alright …”
Some minutes later, Titus found himself standing before a building that, from the front seemed to consist of little more than a row of five doors separated by meager windows narrow enough to be covered by just one shutter panel. He counted to the third door from the right and knocked frantically on it for a moment before trying the handle.
Without offering any resistance, the handle turned and the door opened. With a hesitant glance to either side, he rushed into the dark room and fumbled around. The faint smell of lantern oil hung in the air. In the dim, flickering light of a street lantern, Titus was just able to make out the outline of a narrow bed toward the back of the narrow room, a cabinet whose doors had been slung open, and a scattering of things left on the floor of a kitchen area that contained little more than a wash basin and small wood stove.
Without wasting another moment, Titus turned and bolted back out into the crowd of the street while calling out, “Miss Noonshade! Miss Noonshade!”
A passing woman collided with Titus as they were rushing in opposite directions. “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” she grumbled.
“I’m sorry. Have you seen Miss Noonshade?” Titus pleaded.
“No, and if she’s got any sense, she’s already left! Now out of my way!” barked the woman as she partly shoved him aside and continued running.
Titus sighed and only just became aware of an oncoming wagon in time to dodge out of the way. He moved to the relative safety to the side of the road and watched as people continued flooding past in their mad rush to flee the city and he grumbled, “It’s just like before … and everyone is throwing everything into wagons as quickly as they can.” A wild grin formed on his face. “And it’s technically not stealing if I just take what they’ve left behind!”
Titus began scanning the nearby residences for indications of whether had been already abandoned or not and suddenly laughed. “Aha! That one! Their wagon just left!” Without a moment’s hesitation, Titus began dancing through the frantic traffic on the road and sidewalks until he finally reached the house in question.
The door was partly ajar and he could see a source of light within. He paused for a moment and cautiously pushed open the door further and walked in while calling out, “Hello! Is anyone still here?! Anyone?!”
An awkward smile formed as he walked further into the house. “Anyone?” His eyes fell upon a lit lantern that was left on a table within the kitchen area and he listened intently. Sounds of chaos coming into the house from the street met his ears, but from within there was nothing but silence. He pumped his arms and swayed his head a little as he walked over to the lantern and picked it up. “Well, thank you for leaving this behind,” he said to the absent former occupants of the house.
He stood still for a moment as a plan began formulating in his mind. His lips twisted ad he looked around at the disorderly state of the kitchen and family area of the house that took up the entire first floor of the house, save for a small closet, a washroom, and a narrow stairway. Some belongings were strewn about while others, that looked to include some children’s toys, were gathered in a loose pile. “They must have picked through and found all that’s valuable in that. I’ll go upstairs.”
After a quick, frantic search about the bedrooms on the second story of the small house, Titus looked back at a bed sheet that he had laid out on the floor. On it were a few scattered belongs with the only thing of value he could find being a single gold ring. Everything else was just small, decorated trinkets without much value.
“Maybe the next house will have something better?” he asked himself as he gathered up the edges of the sheet, picked up the lantern, and ran out to the next house.
#
After tearing through four houses, for a total of five that he’d searched through in all, he looked down at the bed sheet. On it was the meager collection of abandoned belongings that he’d been able to gather ranging from a few gold, silver, and copper coins, inexpensive jewelry, and an assortment of other small items. “There isn’t much here that’s valuable,” he mumbled. “At least not enough for me to get a new start.
He looked forlornly at his nest egg when a thought occurred to him. “Wait … It’s only been a few days since they caught me. Maybe they didn’t get around to it yet! My things might still be there!”
He gathered up his new treasure into a bundle, threw it over his shoulder, bolted out of the house and down the city streets. He eventually ducked into a small, dark alleyway. From there he went through an even more narrow side passage between two wooden buildings. He clambered down a steep slope and to a narrow cave entrance, kicking gobs of brown dirt loose as he did that raced to join him in the cave below. He glanced at a wooden plank that was broken into pieces and frowned.
Without losing another moment, he dashed through the opening and into the small, damp cave. Titus dropped his bundle on the floor and looked around in the inky blackness of his hideaway. He placed his hand on the right wall and feeling his way along until he found small shelf dug into the wall. “Here it is!” he cheered as he carefully reached into the cubby. He reached a little further and his fingers bumped into something. “Great! I can have a little light at least. I wish I thought to bring that other lantern with me.”
Working carefully and quickly, he grabbed a small wooden box out of the cubby that contained an oil lamp made of clay, a small tin container, a corked glass bottle, along with flint and steel. Working by feel, he moved the box to a dilapidated wooden table in the middle of the room and took the lid off the tin container, and began striking the flint and steel into the open container. After a few strikes, Titus could see lingering sparks in the dried wood char inside the tin. He blew on it gently, dipped a wick into the oil within the lamp, and touched the wick to the small embers while continuing to blow until the wick caught.
He cheered inwardly as he slid the wick into the lamp, placed the lid back his char container, and refilled the lantern with oil from the glass bottle. After waiting for the oil to be drawn up into the wick, he carefully lifted up the lamp. “If they left this, I might have something still!” As the flickering light grew, his eyes darted about the room and his jaw dropped. Despair rose in his heart as he carried the lantern about the small cave. Shattered pieces of shale rock littered the floor all about his feet and all of the openings that they once fit into were open.
His eyes lit up at the thought that something may be left within the deepest of the holes and he rushed, as quickly as he could without extinguishing his light, from hole to hole. Hope faded quickly as he found one hole after the next entirely empty. He eventually made it around to the left side of the door where he had stowed some of his own personal belongings in open cubbies. They were all empty and his belongings lay on the floor in a heap. Titus knelt down and rummaged through the pile, finding only worn socks, a stocking cap, a tattered mat, a cloth bag that had been torn nearly in half, and a variety of other clothing items.
With a distant groan, he picked up cloth bag and looked at it while mumbling, “They couldn’t have at least opened it normally to search inside?” His head cocked to the side for a moment as he surveyed the walls once more.
With a great sigh and head dropped forward, he dragged his feet over to the table, placed the lantern on it, and took a seat on a rickety stool. With a barely audible whimper, he buried his face in his hands. “There is nothing left.” he groaned. “ Even with what I got from the houses, there’s not enough to do much of anything. I should just let the dragon take me like it did my parents.” Some tears formed in his eyes as he went on, “Maybe I’ll see them again?”
The echoing sound of the dragon’s roar reached down into the cave and the distant sound of ringing bells immediately died off as the ones sounding the alarm fled. Titus looked back toward the entryway with a humph. “He took his time getting here. Now he’ll circle above the city for a while ... taunting and terrifying whoever’s left before turning it all to ash ... if even that’s left.”
CHAPTER 2: THINGS OF DREAMS
Time passed, and the sound of the roars became more frequent, sometimes closer, and sometimes further off. “Just get it over with,” Titus muttered as he looked at the roof of his cave. He crossed his arms on the rickety table and started lowering his head. A tingling sensation traveled down spine in a way that caused an involuntary shutter. For a moment, it seemed his innermost being had already left his hideaway for someplace safer. He sat up and his eyes darted back and forth across the walls, searching for something out of place when something caught his attention.
In the dim, flickering light of his small oil lamp, he saw something moving on the floor. He shook his head and blinked before leaning down for a closer look as tinges of some darkness crept along the floor. “That’s something different …” he murmured as he hesitantly set his right foot on it and lifted it up. “I must be seeing things.”
His breath left him and his eyes widened as he lifted his foot. The darkness clung to the bottom of his foot and even seemed to be trying to pull it back to the floor before snapping back to the ground with an oozing plopping sound. He sniffed and his jaw quivered as a foul odor of decay began to mingle with the dank smell of his hideaway.
He moved his foot toward the darkness again but pulled it back before touching it. The darkness left to floor for a moment in an attempt to embrace the foot. “Um, that’s not right … It must be some trick by the dragon. Yeah, that’s it. Mind games because just destroying cities isn’t good enough.”
He picked up his lantern and held it down closer to the floor. A vacant expression formed on his face at seeing that the shadow did not move from the light but seemed to thicken. It whipped out violently toward his foot Titus staggered as he leaped to his feet. It was then that he heard words, a voice that growled in his mind. “Flee! Run in terror, you fool!”
Titus grabbed for the lantern with fumbling fingers and it slipped out of his grasp to the floor. He cringed as the sound of shattering clay reached his ears and he looked down at the floor where a smoldering wick lay amidst a small pool of oil. For a brief instant, the flame seemed it would go out but it roared back and spread to the surrounding oil with a long, gentle fwoof.
He sighed and his body relaxed at the sudden increase of light in the room but he began shuffling toward the cave exit as the darkness mounded up around the pool of oil. When he reached the narrow passageway, he stole a glance in time to see the shadow cover the fire like breaking waves on a shore. “That’s …” He took off running, his jaw, eyes wide open in fright, and heart pounding in his ears.
He scrambled up the slope, through the alley, and into the street as darkness began rising up on the buildings all around him. The padding sounds of his worn shoes on the street and of his heavy breathing were the only human-made sound in the entire city. “Not good, not good, not good!” he yelled out as darkness rose up higher wherever he looked and the foul stench of death filled his lungs with every breath. Without a single thought left in his mind, he ran. Faster than his feet had ever carried him, he ran down the streets of the doomed city as darkness loomed all around him.
A great crackling sound filled the air as a wreath of fire materialized in the air about the perimeter of the city. It showed so brightly that it almost seemed like daylight, yet the darkness remained and even seemed to become more intense. The pulsing light from the fire caused shadows to dance about the city wildly as flares came off of the wreath and fell to the city below. Titus glanced up at the wreath of flame over the roofs of buildings and his eyes bulged. “I’d think that were awesome, if it wasn’t so terrifying! I don’t think it can get any more so!”
As if in response, the darkness throughout the city began rising up and concentrating into slimy tendrils that made oozing pulsating sounds as they searched toward the source of light in the sky. Titus briefly caught a glimpse of the immense dragon as it passed overhead in its long, lazy orbit about the city. For a moment, the world became hazy and distant and his heart skipped a beat, or maybe two, but his feet continued to move at their rapid pace.
“I was wrong!” he yelled out as a wave of heat hit him from a flare impacting something near him. He could feel the shockwave from the explosion and small pieces of debris began raining down all about him.
The fear of the situation overwhelmed him and left him numb to it as he continued to run down the city streets on his way out. His memory and awareness of his surroundings seemed to slip from him as larger balls of fire leaped out of the wreath, like they were being flung by some unseen force, and made thundering explosions wherever they impacted. He was only faintly aware that he neared the edge of the city, but still he ran. Beyond all endurance he thought he ever had, he ran. Beyond the borders of the city and into the morning hours, he continued to run as though he were compelled by an unseen force.
#
At last, after a blur of time filled with the sound of cracking sticks, the crinkling of fallen leaves, and leaping over roots in his path, he saw an ancient great hall, obscured by thick woods and large trees. Its stones were darkened by fire and Titus felt uneasy as he glanced at them, but he continued running until he was nearly upon the ruins.
He slowed to a halt before gasping for breath and shaking his head. He blinked and stared at the structure, his head tilting from one side to the other. “I can’t think clearly … but I can still speak my thoughts out …” He swayed back and forth slightly as he made his way toward a massive gaping hole in what once was a wall. “I don’t care if people say there’s a curse. I’ve never heard of it attacking ruins,” he rambled. “I’ll just take shelter here … It’s not like I’d see the dragon a third time in my life. I’ve never heard of anything being left after a dragon attack though …”
He looked ahead at the front wall of the once impressive three-story structure that was more gone than not. Green vines had taken over much of the remaining front wall of the building and their dark green leaves made a rustling sound in the occasional breeze. He mumbled barely coherent observations as he walked into the great hall. His gaze shifted up toward the ceiling, which had mostly collapsed onto the floor below except toward the left side where it still clung tenaciously to a solid stone wall. Other than his mumbling, the silence was only broken by the sound of chirping birds that called the ancient, discolored rafters of the remaining roof their home.
Titus covered his eyes and squinted up toward where light from the sun occasionally peeked through the thick trees. “It’s daytime. How long was I running?” He shuddered slightly. “Oh! Look!” He stared to his left blankly for a moment where most of the remaining building stood. “There’s stairs! Stairs going up to a shut door!”
He walked toward the stairs but paused for a moment to take in the charred remains of wooden stairs and walkways that once led to second floor doorways in the stone wall. “Guess I can’t get to those.”
He inspected the stone stairway briefly and his eyes lingered on the periodic bird droppings and occasional cracked stones before he began to climb. He set his eyes on a door tucked up near the roof. “Hm. Maybe something good in there? Am I talking too much? Has my thinking out loud gotten worse?” Titus blinked and tilted his head before shivering more severely.
“Am I tired? I feel like I should be tired, but I’m not … Am I?” he rambled as his foot touched the first step.
He climbed the stone stairway, pausing midway to look down upon the state of the room below him. What once might have been great banquet tables, chairs, and furniture seemed to be nothing more than mounds of soil that green grass and some flowers thrived in amongst the shattered roof tiles. “I wonder how long ago this was destroyed.” He started out for a moment longer before continuing up the stairs.
When he reached the top, he found an oaken door with intricate carvings that spoke of the once-great grandeur of the hall. He rested his hands gently on the door and looked at it in amazement. “This wasn’t even touched by fire … Can I open it?” He ran his fingers along the edge and grinned as he checked the cap between the doorframe and the door. “It wasn’t shut. That just means if I … I won’t let the door keep me from treasures that might give me a new life.”
Titus slammed his shoulder into the door with all his might, resulting in a loud hollow banging. The birds, startled by the sudden noise, fluttered out past the partial roof that extended out from that side of the building. He tried knocking the door loose again and again, causing his shoulder to ache. Eventually, the door relented and swung open, revealing a thing of his dreams.
“Ow …” He rubbed his shoulder as he looked around the room. His eyes widened upon seeing a large canopy bed partially surrounded by rich velvet curtains, against the right wall. “A bed! And the roof is intact!” He squinted but couldn’t make out the color of the bed in the dim light that came in through the doorway behind him. He blinked as his eyes fell on shelves at the side of the room. “Pottery ... probably stores of some kind ...” His eyes widened. “There might be food! And drink! If they’re sealed properly, then they might still be good!”
The stale scent of what could be centuries old air mixed with drifting dust settled on his nose, causing him to cringe and sniffle. He rushed to a window and flung open the ancient shutters on the south side of the room to let in sunlight. Clouds of dust, stirred up by a fresh breeze, drifted about, illuminated by the rays of bright sunlight streaming into the room. Titus could clearly see the bright colors on decorations throughout the room, reds, blues, and hints of yellow, somehow preserved against time. It brought an eerie life to the dust-covered room. The canopy hanging from the lord’s bed looked as though it had been thrown open hastily and a pillow lay on the floor.
“The lord must have been in a hurry to leave … I can relate,” Titus muttered. “It’s just like when my parents were getting ready to leave and they sent me to deliver a message while they packed.”
He sighed and walked back to the brown earthen pottery that was arranged neatly on a large wooden shelf. “Hm ... This one looks sealed.” With a firm twist, the lid came loose with an audible pop. He peered into the pot. “Honey?” His eyes widened with excitement. “Honey-preserved dates!”
“Huh,” he uttered as he looked around the room and made rambling notes of the fireplace, wardrobes, and dressers. He opened the top drawer of an ornate cabinet made of dark wood and brushed off his hands. “Dusty.” he looked around the room once more, “Doesn’t seem like it’s in a mostly burned building” He stomped on the floorboards and blinked at the sound of a sturdy thud. “Even the floor is solid!” Upon looking into the opened drawer, a smile formed on his face as he began rummaging a bit through it. He found a long spoon and returned to the jars eagerly.
After wiping the spoon clean, he partook of honey and dates and treated himself to the contents of a flask that turned out to be some kind of alcohol. He couldn’t identify it, but didn’t care what it was so long as it was something to drink. After his hunger was sated, he grabbed an old mug, wiped dust out with his shirt, and tested what was in a keg.
He sipped it timidly. “Water!” he cried as before he drank his fill. He held his stomach and let out a deep breath, water dripping from the sides of his mouth onto his cloak. His knees quivered slightly as he glanced around the room before going back to the bed and examining it in the light streaming in through the window. “Hm. Rich lavender color. The lord must have been wealthy.” He pulled back the dust-covered lavender comforter on the bed and examined the dark blue sheets and blanket below. “They look comfy.” He pushed his hand into the down mattress and a content smile came over his face. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slid off his shoes, climbed into the bed under the sheets and warm blanket, flipped the pillow to a dust free side, and was asleep the instant his head laid down.
CHAPTER 3: CURSE OF THE DRAGON
Sometime, toward the middle of the night, Titus woke up and lifted his head drowsily. A long low rumbling met his hears that quickly faded to nothing before continuing again a short time later. He pushed down the blankets as he flipped himself from laying on his stomach and sneezed as dust stirred up from his sudden movement met his nose. “What’s that?” he murmured to himself as he stared at the door. His head tilted to the side and he blinked slowly as considered the possibility of some creature sleeping outside the door. He licked his lips and sat up as thoughts about killing and butchering something for a nice hearty meal began dancing through his head.
Titus smacked his lips as he got out of bed. “I’m sure there’s a weapon somewhere … And I should stop talking to myself or I might wake it.”
He cautiously shifted to a seating position, slipped on his shoes and walked lightly to the shutters on another south-facing window to allow in more of the light from a full moon. He breathed in deeply as the cool night air hit his face. After a few breaths, he shook his limbs out, smiled and paused to listen to the long, slow, rhythmic snoring once more. The sound of chirping of insects and calls of owls met his ears from outside and he smiled as he closed his eyes for a moment before turning and staring into the room.
His eyes moved slowly across the walls for anything he could use when his eyes fell on a long sword prominently mounted on the wall by two other thinner and more decorative blades. That will work. He walked over to the sword, a sturdy yet plain looking blade with a leather grip, and reached for it. Carefully, he pulled it up off of the hooks that held it in place and began testing its weight in one hand.
He moved into the center of the room and looked at the sword contemplatively. Although he’d never owned a sword before, he’d seen other people use them in sparring matches and in one real fight that left the loser dead. He tried to imagine how the two combatants held their weapons in the real fight and how they had swung their swords. His tongue stuck out slightly from between his lips as he lifted the blade and practiced swinging it enthusiastically. A smile formed as he listened to the blade swishing rapidly through the air before he tried imitating a lunge and shifted to stabbing at an imaginary target laying on the ground a few times.
He pumped his arms in a silent cheer and, with a growing grin, and crept over to the door. His green eyes widened as he glanced around at the other side of the door. As his eyes settled on the floor of the top landing, he began to stiffen at the realization that nothing was there for him to ambush. His eyes moved from the stair landing to a railing that traveled only a short distance down the stairs before terminating in charred stubs.
He held his breath as he crept forward to trace the sound. He stiffened as though each step could be his last as he got closer to the railing. His imagination began to run wild as he tried to guess what it was that could make such a large sound just from snoring, or how many creatures may be contributing to the sound might be combining the noise of their snores. He gulped involuntarily as his eyes came to rest on something large on the floor of the great hall.
He backpedaled involuntarily until his back came to rest against the frame of the door and he immediately began second-guessing whether he had really seen the dragon down below. He tried to calm his rapid breathing as his heart beat hard in his ears. Memories of overhearing people talk about the sites of destroyed cities being cursed because of the many souls that must have perished in them played through is mind and that the dragon returns to feed off of them. I’ll just back into my room, and it will never know that I was here. It will have to go again ... I can find a chamber pot ... I think I need it.
He shuffled his feet sideways while his eyes remained glued on the railing. He gulped as he took his first step backwards into the room when a burning feeling began welling up in his heart. His heart began to calm and he stood still as the feeling of fear was pushed out of his body. As appealing as the idea was to slip back into his room, the notion that the dragon seemed to be in a deep sleep struck him in some strange way. Bringing his left hand forward to join his right in gripping the hilt of the sword, he crept closer for a better view of the imposing dragon.
The chest of the giant dragon rose and fell with each breath. Its rugged ember red scales covered its body like interlocking plates of armor. The claws of its somewhat hand-like feet looked like giant, nearly metallic, curved spikes that could easily rip through even the strongest of walls. Its long neck curved around enough for its head to be seen as well as the sharp teeth within its partially open mouth. Titus cringed and shivered as the dragon shifted its head, causing its horns to scratch gouges into the stone floor. The tail, which looked like it could shatter the trunk of the strongest of trees, thudded against the ground after the noise and its wings shifted as it seemed to fall back into a deeper sleep.
Titus’ entire body tensed as the dragon shifted its position a bit more before smacking and resuming its snoring. His head tilted from one side to the other as his eyes traced a line across its body from head to the tip of its tail and he did his best to imagine a dragon that size destroying entire cities like he had seen. Slowly, his eyes shifted back to its chest and he began watching the scales in the diffused moonlight as they went up and down. He marveled at how smooth the scales appeared to be and how tightly they fit together, and then he noticed something. Cautiously, he moved closer to the railing and even leaned forward to look down more fully at the dragon.
His eyes narrowed and remained glued on its chest as it took in a deep, slow breath. His eyes fully opened and his jaw opened as he noticed how, at the fullest part of a breath, the flesh between the scales was just barely visible. He felt giddy and light headed as he imagined a sword plunging in between the scales of the dragon and going straight to its heart. The feeling of giddiness increased as his eyes fell upon the sword in his own hand. Scenes of throngs of people cheering him on danced through his mind as he stood on the chest of the dead dragon. The dragon itself was atop four great wagons being pulled down the main road of a city by teams of mighty horses.
He was lost in a feeling of deep awe as he stepped back and began to examine the railing and looked up at the horizontal joist that ran from the wall about at the height of the top of the doorframe. The end of it was built into the wall and while other rafter ends had diagonal braces running down to the wall at lower points, the ones that terminated over the landing were bolstered by thick posts that doubled as the vertical supports for the railing.
He shifted a bit to his right until he was standing under the joist with one foot on the last step before the landing. While leaning from side to side, his eyes followed along both sides of the joist until it reached a beam that ran back up toward the ceiling above. Hm. It looks like I can get that far easy enough, but how would I stab it? His eyes drifted down from the truss. I couldn’t do it if I jump straight down … so maybe lean forward and tip over the edge? He moved back to the landing and practiced stabbing while imagining he was falling from a landing position until he was holding the sword over his head with the blade perpendicular to him.
He shook his head frantically and lowered the sword as he muttered quietly, “This is crazy … I can’t.” His eyes drifted down to the dragon once more. “Although …” He took a hesitant step back toward the door as the fiery feeling slowly grew. His jaw clenched as his left hand grabbed the railing. As if without conscious thought, he began following the steps that played out in his imagination as he laid the sword down on the railing about three feet from the post.
After climbing up, on the railing, he carefully retrieved the sword and set it on the joist before clamoring up. He clung desperately to it for a moment as his eyes lingered on the floor far below him. With a gulp, he got to his feet, picked up the sword, and began stepping sideways along the joist with a slightly quivering jaw. Bits of green and brown lichen were knocked loose as he slid his feet along the joist and it began creaking as he moved further beyond the support of the railing post.
He breathed shakily, despite the feeling of courage emanating from the warmth in his chest, and couldn’t help but imagine scenes of the dragon waking and looking up at the ceiling to investigate the creaking ceiling and debris falling toward him. Eventually, his shaking left hand found the diagonal beam and he steadied himself before looking down, with eyes closed, toward the dragon.
His eyes opened and his whole body quivered. The ribcage of the sleeping dragon lay directly beneath him. His eyes settled on the gently moving chest of the dragon as it breathed in and out, in and out. The sight, coupled with the rhythmic rumbling seemed to ease his tension away as he watched scales tilt and shift with every breath. In and out. In and out. Up and down, part and close.
He stood there for some time looked down at the dragon, focusing on the sight of scales moving and nothing else as he internalized the rhythm. Eventually, he held the sword above his head as before, took a deep breath, and leaned forward with tightly closed eyes. He winced as he felt his balance shift forward and gulped as he reached the point of beginning to fall. His eyelids opened and his sharp eyes focused on the scales once more. As the sword tip was about to strike, he thrust it forward, aimed at a spot between scales as the dragon’s breath reached its deepest point.
The sword successfully parted the scales and vanished up to the hilt. The dragon woke with a start and gave a pain-filled roar as it began writhing about as a clawed hand reached up toward the point of pain. Titus was knocked helplessly aside and tumbled violently across the floor and into the wall beneath the stairs. His eyes widened to their fullest extent and his jaw went slack as he tried scrambling against the wall until he found himself in a seated position. The whole building shook and rumbled with the force of the dragon’s thrashing as it tried to dislodge the sword.
The dragon’s movements slowed after a few more moments and both hands fell limply to its sides. “It stopped?” Titus asked as stumbled to his feet and crept forward. His mouth dropped in awe and the right side of his lips twinged as though trying to form into a grin. “I did it?”
Smoke began to rise from the body of the dragon, filling the area with a smell of fresh, smoldering ash. “I did it! I did it! Oh ... What is going on?” He watched in wide-eyed silence as his jaw fell slack once more. “It’s all turning to ash? That’s ... amazing ... That’s ... I need to go find that chamber pot ...”
©2025 by J. M. Patterson