Ancient Dragon's Fear

Sangre Torment

Like some immense snake the scales of the dragon glistened like wet blood in the mid-day sun. His wings folded against his sides like enormous sails, moved unsettled in the breeze. His toes flexed expectantly, digging his shiny black claws into the granite as if it were clay. His eyes, like gigantic rubies looked to the east with a mixture of hatred and fear.
He understood fear. Over his many years fear had been one of his closest companions. First hatched he remembered the fear of dependence and confinement. He had conquered those fears and learned new fears. Next was the fear of his own kind. He knew his own mind and the desire to destroy anything stronger than he and anything that could become stronger. He overcame the fear of his own kind and learned to fear others, giants, ogres and humans. He over-came these fears and now he was teaching others to fear him.
Under the dragon lay the Mayormente mountains. His lair, behind him, boring deep inside the granite like a gigantic throat , complete with stalactites and stalagmites at the entrance like the teeth of the huge mouth. From his lair Sangre Tormenta could see the Draco river from where it gouged its way out of the mountains and follow its path north across the plains to the Taysy ocean, over two hundred miles away. Looking to the north of the mountains to the east he could see the tangled branches of Thunderwood forest.
Beyond the forest he knew Penthail, the capital of the vermin-like humans, was ruled by the despicable spawn of their hero, Ergrim. The ancient dragon remembered back over the centuries of his life and could find no pain greater than that inflicted to him by the insolent human and his foolish followers. Not even when giants fought him to control the land an age ago.
He could remember every detail of that clear summer day, much like this day. He was flying over the mountains looking for something to eat or some excitement and it found him. The shock of a lightning bolt crackling through his body come first, his shoulder and chest ached at the memory. Before he could react he felt the impact of a stone crashing into his left wing. Then he saw them, an elf dressed in robes and a couple of dwarves and several humans wearing armor, appear just below him. They had the gall to attack him, Sangre Tormenta, and to use magic, the thought of those maggot like elves daring to strike him made his anger boil within him. He noted the group scatter as he righted himself and turned towards them, putting the elf directly in front of his maw. He breathed his fury and fire down on them but the elf had protected himself and the others had spread out too much to fell the force of it. For the longest time only the largest giants had survived his breath and then just barely and not for long, none of the humans and dwarves dressed in metal or the elf died a horrible, flesh searing death. They dared to live!
The dragon was sure that the elf had come from their city Thaymeest, in the heavily warded forest north of Thunderwood. Sangre Tormenta had vowed to roast all of those savory elves just as soon as he had time to unravel their magical protections. Then he would feast on their lean flesh. He decided nothing quite tasted as good as a tender young, virgin elf maid. The elves must hope that they were forgotten. Sangre Tormenta chuckled deep inside his cavernous chest. The elves would never be forgiven or forgotten.
That left the giants on the south side of the mountains as his oldest enemies. The giants had built many great structures and risen to an advanced culture but that was all in the past. The dragon smirked as he considered his sizable role in cutting them down to size. Over the years the giants had failed to organize to any more than family size groups. The giants fighting themselves was the main reason for this. The ogre magi empire had a fair amount to do with it and one other force the dragon hadn't identified yet killed of the giants before they could get themselves organized.
He suspected that it might be the humans fighting the giants. Ergrim would be the logical choice to lead the humans against the giants and if that were so then Ergrim would also be planning an attack against him. Ergrim would know that any pass through the Mayormenta mountains or any road around the edge would be blocked by himself, the great red dragon so any expansion plans would have to include dealing with Sangre Tormenta.
No he decided he would deal with them first! An instant later he had checked the wind, updrafts, down drafts, the air for any smells new or out of place, the rock for slippage or crumbling, the suns for the time, and magically for any active or passive spells, and stepped off the ledge, wings reaching high above before hoisting the dragons imence body into the air. He soared lazily over the Draco river then let out a deafening roar. He then wheeled in the air so the light would reflect off of his scales to make him look like a living fire in the sky.
Sangre Tormenta's claws scraped down again on the ledge to the cacophonous scampering of thousands of and thousands of panicked kobolts living down by the river. He, their god, cared nothing for their tiny scrawny bodies and their even smaller minds. They by contrast carried out his slightest whim with utmost fanaticism that their god, Sangre Tormenta, demanded on pain of death.
The dragon took his time as he slid slowly into his lair. He found himself marveling at his own genius. He had thought of carving deep ridges into the entire length of the tunnel spaced so that he could easily step over each ridge. The gaps were deep enough to require ladders to scale and he had required the kobolts to make the edges too smooth for grappling hooks. The effect of all the stone work made his leasherly winding stroll from the ledge down to his treasure hoard an agonizing wash-board that would take the pesky elves or humans days to travel.
He wound his way through one last curve in the tunnel and entered his sanctuary, his treasure room. A vast natural chamber, expanded and smoothed to allow him to stretch to his full length and open his wings to their fullest without coming close to touching the walls, and filling the chamber from wall to wall and gathered in the middle forming a comfortable mound gleamed his hoard. He breathed in the air heavy with memories of centuries of plundering ogres, giants, dwarves, elves and men. He had even kept the block of gold the ogre magi's had sent him from the their capital. The gold that both nurtured him and anchored him to the land of the ogre's enemies.
He waded into the piles of gold, silver and priceless gems relishing every step. Every piece, down to the smallest brass button pulled at him and strengthened him. The dragon and his hoard were linked magically. Sangre Tormenta believed his great power, magical command, and titanic size were linked to the point of any loss in coin could result in a corresponding loss in power. He had a great deal of power and he guarded it jealously.
He came to the magically hidden entrance to the trapped tunnel half-way across the chamber. The tunnel was a simple slight incline and just the right width for the dragon to breath his fire into it. The traps were the spells cast on it to increase the sounds of anyone trying to sneak in that way and more spells to make his fire hotter. It was here that Ergrim walked into his certain death with his small group of followers, Sangre Tormenta had unleashed his raging breath, Ergrim's followers had fell but Ergrim held his sword, muttered something and then all of them vanished with out so much as a trace.
The dragon could picture Ergrim in the tunnel with fire dancing all around him, his friends screaming, flailing about trying to put out the flames, and then falling. But not Ergrim, he still wanted to fight. Even as he muttered the words that took him to safety Ergrim looked at him as wounded prey. He was reluctant to leave, as insane as it sounded it was true. He could no help himself, he had to look down the tunnel to make sure it was empty. He continued to the far side of the room thinking of how to present himself to the kobolts. They were just little lizards really. If he were to show himself to them in the temple as himself they would scatter in terror. Their little minds just can't comprehend his immense power and glory.
He had killed some prince or knight long ago, just as the giants were fleeing to the south of the mountains, and he had the most interesting armor. The prince must have been a very large man, and defiantly juicy, because the armor was very big for a man. The size was not the most unusual thing about the this armor though, because the armor had been sculpted to look like him, the dragon Sangre Tormenta. He drew upon his magical powers and transformed himself into the form of that man. He still retained his power and strength but had poured his essence into a form that the kobolts could be in the presence of and he still looked the same. The artist had managed to capture his likeness on the helmet with such skill that even the dragon had to be impressed. The entire suit bore the attention that the craftsman lavished on it including a tail, claws on the gauntlets and boots, a ribbed cape just like wings, and detailed scales engraved on every surface.
He completed getting the armor on, using magic when assistance would normally be needed. He also belted on a heavy sword with strong enchantments making it far stronger and lighter and gathered several magical trinkets from his hoard and a generous quantity of gold and packed it all in a box that had much more room on the inside than the outside. Satisfied that his appearance would inspire the proper religious zeal he cast a wall of force around each entrance to his treasure room and a gentle flying spell to take him through the lower tunnels to the temple.
The lower tunnel down to the temple was nearly the same as the upper tunnel connecting the treasure room to the porch but many times longer. The dragon in human form dressed as the same dragon made better time because of the magical flight. He disliked the smaller size, even with the conveniences of it because it lacked a certain ability to impress others.
As he approached the back of the back of the temple he could hear the kobolts chanting his name through the heavy black curtain that formed the back wall of the temple. He could picture the other side of the veil, the thousands of kobolts with their faces pressed to the mountain side then raising their faces and clawed hands to the heavens only to lay flat on their faces again to the rhythm of their chanting.
The dragon drew power from his kobold worshipers and moved his consciousness through the veil to the carved, ruby quartz idol of himself, half size. The carving was crude of course, the kobold’s and their limited abilities but centuries of devotion had produced competent craftsmen for his needs. He looked out over the assembled throng of kobolts, all naked as his cannon demanded, except for the guards forcing the prisoners prostrate.
His image, from the top of an appropriately lofty dais, overlooked the valley, the throng of kobolts, an impressive moat with only one thin bridge spanning it, and a thick block of obsidian for an alter. The temple surrounding the idol boasted the best and richest craft that the kobolts could offer including the cut stone vault arching over the temple, carving on all of the stonework, gold inlay in all of the carving, gems set in the gold, and thick carpets covering mosaic tile work.
He drew more power from the chanting sycophants and made the quartz dragon breath fire on the stone alter, set between the bridge and the idol. The chanting stopped the kobolts lay motionless, faces pressed to the rock, then the dragon parted the curtains and made his entrance. The silence was complete, the kobolts stopped breathing, nature itself seemed afraid of the great red dragon.
He found a great deal of humor as he in the role of high priest to himself started the worship service. First he gave thanks, to himself, for all of the protection the dragon gave to the unworthy kobolts. At that point the guards, eight for each prisoner, carried the prisoners over the bridge and held them down on the alter, for the priest, himself, to sacrifice them as atonement for the kobolts failures. He then called the kobolts king to stand before the alter which the king did only to the ruby dragon consume him with fire. The dragon, priest, the called for gifts to be brought forward and the kobolts responded enthusiastically with on out pouring of gold, gems and assorted other valuable. He chose new leader for them from the more generous givers and zealous worshipers, charging him with keeping order, the continued prosperity of the kobolts, and obtaining better human sacrifices, emphasizing virgins. The service ended a couple hours later with more chanting then him extolling the virtues of those who had died for the dragon's cause and assuring power to those that did like wise. The dead gutted bodies of the sacrifices were then stacked on the alter and consumed completely by a torrent of fire from the idol dragon that left the temple sparkling clean and the kobolts scampering away to their city by the river.
Sangre Tormenta stood basking in the glow of the cooling temple savoring the feel of his worshipers praise and soaking up the magical power it granted him. Power he would use to kill Ergrim and all of his kind.
He drew upon his magical power and called to a fiery beast living in a fiery realm. The beast snorted and resisted but was no match for the dragon's summoning, reigning in the burning muscles and crackling hooves. He enjoyed the struggle but bringing the beast to him would not be enough. The dragon molded and reshaped, and cooled the burning creature into the form of a spirited red horse.
He hated the necessity of traveling in disguise. A distance he could fly in a day would take as many as five traveling as a human. Time was not his main concern, he would live as long as his wits could keep him alive. He planned to travel in this disguise to the humans capital gathering as much information as he could along the way.
He also wanted to slip past Amenaza Volor, the blue dragon, without him detecting him. He regretted missing a chance to humiliate or even vanquish a rival from when the giants ruled north of the mountains but now was not the time. He also planned to be absent from his precious hoard for some time. Amenaza would massacre his feeble worshipers and have enough time to break down the magic protecting his treasure. The thought of his hoard, even the smallest part of it, falling to his chief rival was so revolting that he almost turned back, but soon his confidence banished any doubt. The blue dragon would not suspect. He would travel with his power veiled and a path well away from the blue's tower in the woods. And any thievery would be avenged with blood!
The dragon's travels started well. The kobolts he encountered on the first day of his travels flung themselves down on the ground as he approached with acceptable meekness. He noted the farms and sheep ranches that were common close to his lair looked prosperous enough and were constructed following his holy edicts.
The kobolts had also followed his instructions on housing, hatcheries, and barracks. He rode the rest of the day at a gallop and continued to see kobolts working under his banner. When his mount came pounding up to the east fork of the Draco river then shied away from the churning water. He considered the many magical means he could use to get the fiery horse past the deep chilling water that a creature of fire would be so frightened of but took pleasure in yanking on the reigns, forcing the to continue. It writhed and fought but was no match for the will of the dragon. Sangre Tormenta shared the same loathing of wading through the water that the fire elemental did but it made it better for him to endure knowing that something else was unable to hide its fear and loathing.
He had been aware of the contours of the land when he had been flying over them but the amount of cover and how much delay it caused was just now being made plane to him.
Even more annoying than the uneven ground was the tall grass, that seemed like a flat green rug from the air. But grass was nothing compared to the endless variety of juniper and wild rose bushes making the horse jump, dodge and loose stride countless ways. He cursed the blue dragon again for forcing this mode of travel on him.
As the suns set Sangre Tormenta finally left the boundaries of his range. He halted his tireless mount to mark his territory and the frail human form he was in needed to be relieved. He pulled out his box, opened it and found a water skin, enchanted to always be full and took a long drink of its fresh cool water. He looked around seeing at night better in some ways than the day, as if light could hide things from him. The “horse” stood out like a fire against the growing shadows. Other creatures could also be seen better in the falling night. A wolf crept out of its den, not far away, making the dragon smile. There was only room for one predator in these parts tonight he thought.
He cast a spell to mask the heat the horse was producing and remounted it. He drew his sword and coaxed the horse in the direction of the wolf. At first the wolf was drawn to the sound of the hooves but soon it halted sensing something. The dragon urged the horse faster as they drew closer to the wolf. It crouched then ran, trying to flee, confused by the role reversal thrust upon it. Then it was over. The dragon slashed the wolves neck, cutting fur and flesh as easily as if it had been his own teeth.
His meal consisted of only the choices morsels, heart, liver, and loins that he ate raw, savoring the blood flesh, licking his hands and face clean with a long forked tounge. Only after he sat satisfied with a swollen stomach did the dragon allow the fire elemental any of the wolves body. The beast's attempts to resume it's proper form failed and it was forced to tear the flesh with teeth better suited for grass. The sound of meat sizzling let the dragon know the elemental was still its true form underneath the magical skin.
Sangre Tormenta allowed himself a short break to gage his progress on a few things. The fire elemental's magical constraints were holding fine, as where the magical illusions that made it look like a horse. The beast had made good time even with all of the dodging and weaving his mount had been required to do. His kobolts had a fair amount of land but demanding more of them, he had been easy on them for too long. The blue dragon had not been seen or felt, Amenaza Volur was a lazy worm, so his hoard was still safe.
The dragon traveled in this disguise for four days and nights. The weather was clear and calm, perfect for traveling. The elemental, although stupid, was able to recognize defeat and stepped up his pace in desire to shorten the time of its service. The blue dragon, the dumb brute, had chosen to stay put and an abundance of wild game served itself up as nightly fresh meat.
As the suns were setting on the forth night he could smell the scent of horse sweat mixed with the alcohol from their human riders. He eased his mount to a walk, it sensed the humans as well and tensed up in anticipation of a fight. Sangre eased his mount to the cover of some juniper bushes and slowly and silently slid out his sword. Annoyed that to see which way the humans chose to go.
The humans, twelve in all, rode two abreast to the left of the waiting dragon, and quite close to him. They all wore helmets armor and the blue and gold colors of Cornwell's soldiers. Ten of the men wore plain steel caps and carried spears. As they rode past him, his choice of hiding place and the suns light in their faces kept them from spotting him. The leader of one column wore a shiny silver helmet with a white plume on top. The other rode with squinting eyes scanning ahead. The humans, with the one exception, paid no attention to their surroundings as they tossed wine skins to each other.
The dragon dug his heals into the flanks of his mount and it surged after the humans, he guided the elemental directly between the last two solders in their columns. Two swings of his sword cut through mental and flesh with equal ease, dropping the two men to the earth in four parts. He urged his mount ahead, it shouldered between the two horses and closed on the next pair. They rode unaware that two men had died and suffered the same fate. The elemental burst forward with excitement from the kills. The dragon sliced the head off the next man but the one next to that solder was turning to pass the wineskin and witnessed it.
He hastily threw the wineskin at the attacker, hitting and splashing wine on the dragon's face. The solder shouted a warning and raised his spear to protect himself. Sangre ignored both, as did his sword, cutting cleanly through the shaft, the solder's arm, the armor, and then the man's chest. He fell on is face. Sangre snorted with contempt at the man that doused him with wine and caused the men to turn and look.
The next two in each column turned to the outside, an excellent reaction to face threats from the outside or flanks, giving the dragon two more exposed backs that he exploited to kill two more solders in quick succession. The vigilant man turned his horse around and shouted orders.
Sangre directed the elemental directly at the leader trying to take advantage of the situation. It used it's greater speed and strength to trample solder and horse, taking extra care to crush their skulls. The leader drew his sword and skillfully thrust it at the dragon as he guided his horse away from the elemental in the form of a horse. The man's thrust glanced harmlessly off the red armor. The dragon slashed at the opening left by the leader's thrust, his sword tearing a gash through leather, and the man's ribs but not taking him off his horse or out of the fight.
The dragon rode the elemental away at a gallop, seeing no spell casters or archers to be concerned about. He then turned the elemental sharply around some tall thick bushes for another pass. The dragon enjoyed toying with these humans, even now they fought as if they thought they could live or even win. Sangre urged his mount back the way they had came. He quickly encountered a foolish soldier who must have chased after him in a rash attempt at revenge.
The solder charged with his spear level, dropping the point to kill the dragon's mount. The elemental never missed stride and the dragon cleanly cut off the solders head, leaving the neck spraying blood as the body slowly fell off of its horse. The next solder came charging around the bushes at the dragon just as the head of the previous solder's head fell into his lap. That solder's screams as he looked down at the face of his comrade gave the dragon plenty of time to size up his target and repeat the head chopping feat. The next solder witnessed the demise of the other solder and fear filled his eyes but before he could turn or run the elemental charged him and the dragon found humor in chopping off a third head in a row.
The elemental soon brought the dragon back to the leaders and where the first solders bodies lay dead on the ground. The wounded one shielded the other from dragon in a ridiculous show of what the dragon could only guess was loyalty. Badly wounded the man lashed out with a shaky sword. The dragon parried it aside and drove his sword deep into the man's chest. He yanked his sword free and watched the man fall to the ground like a sack of copper coins.
The last man had used the other man's attack to flank the dragon and let out a frustrated scream as he swung his sword to late to save him. The blow clanged off of the armor with out effect then the dragon slapped the sword out of his hand. He let out a gasp and swung out of his saddle, rushed to his fellow's side, and vainly held his hands on the gapping wound.
Sangre Tormenta easily stepped off his mount. He noticed the shaft of a spear sticking out of the chest of his “horse”, not that an ordinary spear could harm the elemental. He pulled the spear out, showing the blackened, crumbling remains to the last man. The head broke off, being embedded inside the fire elemental had burned the wooden shaft down to charcoal. He tossed the shaft away and smiled evilly at the man.
The elemental showed no reaction to the spear coming out or going in for that matter. A normal horse would have died, the spear head lodged exactly where the heart should be. The elemental had no heart and could not be harmed by such mundane means any way.
“Nice horse.” said the man trying to buy time and create a distraction. His fellow solders were all obviously dead.
The elemental started grazing on the face of the nearest solder. The man's face and jaw went completely slack as the flesh sizzled in the elemental's mouth. The dragon watched the stunned man and cast a spell to allow him to hear the man's thoughts.
“Not exactly.” He chuckled. “Your lieutenant Vairoy of count Cornwell's elite cavalry. You are on patrol with veterans of the last war. Your Sergeant, the dragon nodded at the elemental's meal, even went with you south of the mountains in that fool invasion against the ogres capital.”
Vairoy's mind staggered against the mounting improbabilities of his situation, but the dragon could hear a voice in the lieutenants head calling for action and encouraging Vairoy to stay calm. He recognized that he lacked the speed and strength to face this opponent but true to his training he still searched for an advantage or weakness. The dragon grew weary of his simple desperate attempts to unravel the web he had fallen into. “Tell me what I want to know and you may live to see an other day.”
“Really!?” Vairoy's mind latched onto that hope frantically. The image of some young woman, Nidda, flashed into his mind. The musing about telling everything to this “Red” and then forgetting any of this had happened was very tempting to him.
“Yes. Absolutely.” Stated Sangre Tormenta with a simple smile. “You might even considered joining my side.”
Vairoy's mind seemed to be unable to move past the fire elemental chomping on Sergeant Rour and the sound of flesh sizzling in its mouth. The man had a real fear of being burned alive he noted. The dragon fought off the desire to change back into his true form and showing him some real fire to be afraid of. He instead released the elemental, it looked like the horse burst into flames and vanished.
“The only way I could be on your side, sir knight, is to switch to your side. But I have no idea who you are or what side you are on.” Said Vairoy in a dazed and distant voice, sure that he would be next to burst into flames and disappear.
“For now you will call me Red. I am on my side only. Any other side is doomed because I always win.” boasted the dragon arrogantly even as he banished a fear of the blue dragon.
“Well Red, I can think of nothing that would cause me to help you.” Said Vairoy bravely. His mind raced in panic. Sergeant Rour, his trusted friend from his boyhood, the rest of his men that had fought bravely for many years, Capitan Slech who treated his like a brother, and General Tuwwich who's wrinkled face and white hair had been in the service of Count Aggor of Cornwell for as long as anyone could remember.
“That is very honorable of you.” smiled Red. Then he proceeded to repeat everything that he had heard in Vairoy's mind. “Ever hear anything about Ergrim?”
Vairoy tried not to think about Ergrim even though he did not know anything of real interest. He couldn't help but think of stories he had heard at the Old Fort Inn but though “I will be damned if I tell you.”
“Thank you.” Said Red. The dragon then knocked him out, stripped him down to his under cloths, that he took special care of, tied him up, collected all of the solders possessions, and rounded up four of the horses. He was not impressed by the collection of knives, spears, salted beef, grain, an unlabeled map of the area west of Cornwell, and silver and copper coins. He found several symbols for different deities, that the dragon crushed with his boot. He also found flint, oil, ink pens, rope, blankets, and assorted nick-knacks.
Sangre Tormenta sat in the deepening darkness waiting for Vairoy to wake up and wondered about a strange new sensation he was experiencing. He discounted the thought that the blue dragon was about or something was tampering with his spells on his treasure hoard, he knew those feelings well. He fiddled with the humans possessions in an attempt to either identified the feeling or banish it.
The dragon cleared a patch of ground, gathered some wood from dead bushes and started a fire using the flint before the lieutenant started stirring again. He was unable to figure it out by then so he decided it must be a weakness inherent to the human form. He would be so relieved to be back in his lair and back in his skin.
As soon as he finished getting ready the dragon decided to wake up his captive. First he nudged his with his boot, then a solid kick in the groin, and finally he hauled him up by the front of his shirt with his right hand and slapped him bar-handed several times until he opened his groggy eyes. He then threw his bound prisoner at the fire, chuckling as he fell hard on his side to avoid getting singed.
The dragon spent the next four hours grilling Vairoy on all aspects of his life, the army, pass words, friends, family, and every detail conceivable about Ergrim including the bar, and every person that might have been in the bar. A few times Vairoy told the truth but most of the time Sangre Tormenta got the answer he was searching for straight off the top of his head.
Sangre Tormenta tormented the lutenant over the fire for a while before he promised to let him go and then proceeded to tear out his throat with his bare left hand. He started to cup open the man so he could eat him. The dragon had promised to eat him during his torturing, but he had the unidentified feeling again and for some unknown reason he couldn’t bring himself to eat the man. Instead he pulled out a slice of salted beef and munched on it looking at the stars. Could anything be more unsavory thought the dragon.
The dragon awoke to the crack of dawn the next morning. He stretched his aching body, the armor still cutting off circulation and digging into the tender skin. He felt astonished that he fell asleep and more than a little annoyed at humanity for the frailties of the species. He also marked his territory again counting it a strength of dragons as he at the same time counted it as a weakness of men. He also enjoyed the fact that he was making land as his that was far east of where the blue dragon would expect it.
He shed the armor and put it in his magic box. He ripped off his clammy and clingy undergarments, found fresh ones in Vairoy’s bag. He shrank himself down to fit into the garment then changed his facial features to those of the late lutenants and rummaged around for the correct uniform and possessions to go with the face. He found a mirror in the odds and ends, and checked his efforts in the mirror. He smugly noted that Vairoy’s mother would never know the difference if he knocked on her door.
He made a breakfast out of what he found in the solder's bags, more salted beef, horrible stuff, he refused to touch the grains or nuts, animal feed. He went so far as to dump it out on the ground in front the horses. The only thing keeping the dragon from grounding it into the dirt was the thought of fattening the horses up and eating them later, when he could be in his true form, without the blue dragon knowing he was absent from his hoard.
Sangre Tormenta packed up the solder's things in their packs and tied them on the horses saddles, still on the horses backs. He tied the extra horses on a line and tied it to the lutneant's horse that he mounted. He would be so relieved when he could be rid of these troublesome human forms and their head strong horses. He rode hard again but the solder's horses were painfully slow compared to the elemental he enslaved to be his horse. He finally after a slow day that saw one horse broke a leg, he left it writhing in pain for throwing him, rode down to the sight of Cornwell by the Dulzura river as the suns were setting again. He rode through the river at Uvor's ford, named for the popular count, up the hunter's road and gave the pass word at the west gate all information lifted straight out of Vairoy.
The guard, Kapboych, a name from Vairoy, gave him a salute and a terrified and questioning stair that the dragon ignored. Vairoy had felt affection of some kind for the pitiful dim man, guarding his pathetic wall. Sangre Tormenta hoped the same guard would be guarding the gate when he destroyed it. The destruction of the city and the death of its people would have to wait until he had taken care of the more pressing issue, Ergrim.
Inside the walls, that were neither high enough to keep out giants or any concern to him, he immediately noticed how much the war had affected it. The walls showed recent patching and scorch marks just three years old. The rebuilding had much work left, but the most interesting thing the dragon noticed was the lack of the elderly and the shortage of fighting men.
He followed the main road, main street, past the many burned out half stone structures, only interrupted by occasional construction or a whole building. He went past an intersection, cleared of all signs of war and its destruction with a new well for the women to draw their water from. Then the dragon reached the compound for the solders and their horses.
The dragon rode up the stone wall, just barely high enough to keep him from seeing inside. He could make the walls and roofs of buildings visible over the wall, a stable and barracks most notable of them. Everything showed patches of hurried repair and the lack of solders. He saw no traces of any solders when he dismounted at the gate and had time to cast his spell , to listen to other's thoughts, unobserved before a very young boy wearing a solder's uniform answered the ringing of the small bell.
“Fevvoach open the portcullis.” Demanded the dragon in his Vairoy disguise.
The boy ducked into the guardhouse. He was afraid but did as he was told. The bars of the portcullis resisted the boys efforts for a moment and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to crank the heavy barrier up, but he got a wider grip on the handle and the mechanism noisily lifted the iron bars. The entire time Fevvoach wondered what would cause Vairoy, one of his heroes, to return from a week-long patrol only two days after leaving and alone save a few of the solder's horses. Sangre Tormenta had to dismount and lead the horses under the low spikes of the portcullis. As soon as the last horse was in the solders compound Fevvoach lowered the portcullis again. He then came out and lead the horses to the stables. “Captain Slech is will be with you soon.”
The dragon took the time to recheck the wards on his treasure room and feel about magically for Amenaza Volar. He was pleased everything was still fine on both counts.
A heavy door opened allowing a tall crisp captain with black hair to stride confidently into the yard. The dragon stifled a laugh. Inside captain Slech was weighed down, bent over, stretched too thin and worried about defending the population too recently reeling from the loss of too many of many of their number to the war. He took a hard look at the horses as they were lead into the stables despairing that his finest unit might be all but lost. It irritated the dragon that Slech's first thought was not about Ergrim but about why a runner from the gate had seen his most decorated veteran returning after two days and all of his solder's missing.
Lutenant Vairoy” Hollered the captain. He wanted to ask what the devil was going on but he dared not ask. He was afraid of the answer and afraid the answer would get out. The captain had supported Vairoy’s requested to patrol west of the river. The captain had supported Vairoy’s request to patrol west of the Dulzura river. The captain agonized over the plan that general Turwwich and he had presented to that sniveling coward of a count, Aggor.
The captain pushed open the reinforced oak doors and lead the way to his office. The dragon could hear activity in other parts of the barracks but there was very little and they were out of range of his though listening spell. Slech walked quickly to his office door and ushered the dragon in. The office was a study in order. The books on the shelves were grouped by size and color, the scrolls were all in their rack evenly spaced , maps on the table stacked neatly, ink quills, expensive glass window tightly shut and bottles set orderly in place around the table.
The dragon detested such order and anyone that clung to such illusions that order gave them control. The only order was Sangre Tormenta’s order because he was in control.
“What is it? Why are you back so soon? Where are your men?” asked the captain in a very calm and controlled voice. Inside was an other matter, his panicking mind shouted out one possible disaster after another.
The dragon considered using one of the captain’s fears but the true or just the right piece of it would serve him better. “It was the dragon.”
“The dragon!? What happened?!” squeaked the captain.
The dragon just seemed to appear out of no-where and then killed everyone.” Said the dragon in an emotionless voice. Inside he laughed at the captain’s grief for the men under him the wives children, and where could he find anyone to replace them? What would the count say. On second thought who cares what the idiot count thought what would the general do?
“But you lived.”
“The dragon wanted to know where Ergrim was.” Said the dragon congratulating himself on the cleaver he danced around the question and brought up the subject of his nemesis. “And he was doing.”
“Ergrim must be dead! Or a feeble old man of one hundred and fifty six years old.” Blurted out captain Slech, but his thoughts immediately went to the rumor of a dead giant found between Penthail and Eannail. Word of the giant had come with the last trade caravan yesterday and the superstitious guards claimed that it was the work of Ergrim. No one ever witnessed Ergrim killing the giant or any of the many other killed monsters over the years. Ergrim had not been seen for almost a hundred years but he was almost always given credit. The captain and lutenant had disagreed about Ergrim before and it irked the captain to think that all the wild tales were right.
“The dragon thinks other-wise.” Said the dragon woodenly but enjoy the irony.
“Did you kill him?” asked the captain.
“No. he was certain he killed everybody.” Absolutely certain added the dragon to himself.
“How did you escape then?” Asked the captain.
“I don’t remember how I escaped the dragon.” Said the dragon enjoying the game of verbal half truths with a somber face.
“You must have been knocked out.” Said the captain looking at the dragon critically for any sign of the lutenant being hit on the head.
“I won’t disagree with you.”
“And no one else survived? Possibly over looked like you were?” Asked the captain.
“No one else was alive, only me. I checked for any sign of life but all of the men are dead.” Answered the dragon. Sangre Tormenta was getting tired of answering questions. He wanted to rip this idiot’s heart out but wanted to keep himself hidden from the blue dragon more.
“You must be exhausted.” Said the captain in a commanding voice. “Go get some rest. Come up to the north gate the hour after sunset. I am sure some other people will want to hear what you have to say.”
The captain was just being professional. He had considered throwing the lutenant Vairoy into the stockade for losing his men but Slech decided against it. He would have Vairoy followed by that boy, fevvoach, who was more than capable of following a person unnoticed and there wasn’t any one else available for the captain to use.
The dragon cared nothing about the captains sympathies and less about his favorable treatment. He did care about being followed. He would make sure that he was not followed. “Thank you sir.”
“You can find your way out.” Said the captain in a respectful but dismissive tone.
“Yes sir.” Said the dragon as he stood briefly at attention then turned and walked out of the office. The captain agonizing over what to tell the general. He could suffer the insult for now knowing that the captain was suffering and he planned to eat him latter.
The dragon found himself back at the barracks gate going over different ways to eat the captain with no one to let him out of the compound. He dicided to take the opportunity to rid himself of Fevvoach. He stepped to the porticulis, took a firm grip of the lowest cross bar, checked to be sure no one was watching, summoned a cloud of dust with a quick spell, and lifted the barrier so he could slip out under it and then gently lowered it back into place.
He banished the cloud of dust with a spell, a quick gust of wind, then turned quickly and walked west following the main street one block and turned north. He picked up the briefest thought from Fevvoach, expecting to find Vairoy at the stables then meet Nidda at the Old Fort Inn, then the spell crumbled and the voices left his head.
He walked confidently past the scattered buildings that were still standing and the young female citizens that paused to watch a ‘man’ walk by. He noted that this area showed heavier damage from the war, more building burned and fallen in on themselves and more of those that still needed to be cleared away. The slow pace of rebuilding spoke of the heavy result of the war. He also noticed weeds and other more dangerous things living in the wreckage of Cornwell’s homes and shops.
The dragon crossed a neglected street that carried little traffic. Here the road wound it’s way through a park overgrown with wildflowers then up a steady climb up a hill to a weathered keep. As he walked over the creaking draw-bridge, over a dry, weed clogged moat.He looked up at a wooden sign with a big painted, over-flowing beer mug, marking the place an Inn. It matched the image taken from the real Vairoy of the Old Fort Inn. Just a small, square stone fort with round towers at the corners turned into an inn.
No sooner had he stepped off the old draw-bridge that found himself being charged by Nidda. She was a whirling mass of lace skirts, curly black tresses, arms, legs and tears. She quickly wrapped him up in a tight embrace. The dragon found himself enjoying the strange feel of her wet cheeks against his, the intimacy of the canopy of black perfumed hair, and the trembling arms holding them tight as her soft curvy body was racked by sobs. “ Oh sweetie, sweetie, sweetie.”
“It’s ok cuddle bear.” Said the dragon in a reassuring voice. He thought that the pet names were ridiculous and her reaction was way over the top. He was intrigued by the idea of a romantic relationship, the cursed ogre magi’s had only released male dragons north of the Mayormente mountains. They didn’t want any dragons breeding out of there control.