The Dragonheart Chronicles

[longstevo]

Chapter One

Snowblind

The frigid wind rolled off the hillside and came howling down the canyon. It blew pieces of ice and snow through the great chasm that rest between two ice capped peaks. There wasn’t much vegetation in this part of the land, as Old Man Winter kept his talons gripped around the region. Tall, majestic peaks towered over steep canyons and draws, creating a land that was barely passable. A single road wound its way through the mountain range, but it was hardly a commonly used highway. Very few folk made their way up this road for any sort of reason. The scenery was very unforgiving, and many people had died while trying to traverse it.

A single village lay just beyond the tall peaks, but nothing was heard from the settlement in some time, and it was not known if anyone still survived in the town. No supplies made their way up the road after winter, so the village was required to be self-sufficient. It was little more than a handful of shanties and sheds.

But even as a blizzard began to set in on this day, a single man pushed against the raging winds up that forlorn roadway. He reached up quickly to snag his wide-brimmed hat before it flew off his head, cursing the weather under his breath. The freezing wind frosted his long, gray beard until it seemed a curtain of snow was dangling from his face rather than a long tangle of hair. His black, beady eyes squinted against the cold as he gripped his oak staff just a little tighter.

The royal-looking staff reached a length of six and a half feet, only six inches taller than it’s wielder. A crystal ball sat at the top, cradled in a tangle of twists and curls in the wood. His jet black robe could have been mistaken for blinding white from all the snow that clung to the course wool. His robe was tied together at the waist with a simple piece of rope in an attempt to protect the gear he was carrying on his body.

In a shoddy satchel he carried a six-inch thick book of spells and other magical incantations. It was buckled tightly to keep the tome from slipping out. Attached to his thick leather belt was a elegant dagger reaching close to a foot in length. He never drew the dagger for combat, and knowing that, a stranger would ponder the need for such a fanciful blade. The reason for it they would never believe.

Mumbling under his breath once more, he turned his back to the wind and stabbed his staff into the deep snow. The staff sank into the snow almost to its top, even though the man walked on top of the snow as if he were strolling atop a freshly cared-for lawn. Fumbling around in the folds of his robes and cloak, he produced a roughly sketched map. Frowning at the map, he tucked it back into a hidden pocket. He reached out his hand and his staff shot up from the snow into his outstretched hand. With a grunt, he turned back towards the wind and trudged forward…

[longstevo]

The old man walked through the night, resisting extreme cold that would have killed a normal man. But many things about this particular man would suggest that he wasn’t exactly normal. As he settled down for a short rest that night, he rest his staff down against a frozen rock, and with the snap of his fingers, a roaring fire exploded in front of the man. With a small smile he warmed his hands on the flame’s heat. An unusual man indeed….

The blizzard has lessened its intensity over the course of the night, and now the wind had stopped. Snow still drifted from the sky and continued to coat the man, but he took no notice. Instead, his keen eyes were searching the landscape around him for a clue. A clue to what, no one would believe, for no man in his right mind would be on the quest of this particular nature. Every snow bank, every cliff, every cut and draw was examined to the closest detail, for what he was looking for was often overlooked.

Aside from his heavy breathing, the land was eerily quiet. The snow seemed to soak up all the ambient noises from the earth, but then again, there was nothing living here to create noise in the first place. It was a dead land, and if the snow didn’t fall year round, this place would surely look like a desert.

There. Something on a bluff caught the man’s eye. What was it? Something was out of place. He looked all around the area in question, and nothing but a perfect bed of smooth snow clung to the rocks. Except for one spot, the bluff was entirely white. A single area of twenty feet or so was disturbed, exposing black, volcanic rock to the world. With a thoughtful, “Hmm…” the man reached once again into the folds of his robes, into a different pocket this time, and closed his fingers gently and retracted his hand. In his fist was a soft butterfly with wings the color his last night’s fire. Opening his hand, he spoke in an ancient language to the insect and released it into the snow. With no wind in the air, the creature would have no trouble flying to investigate what this man was looking at.

Within five minutes, the small insect returned to him. Opening his palm wide, the butterfly landed. To a normal man, this adventurer did nothing more than stare at the bug for a moment before replacing it in his robe. But this man didn’t care what anyone else thought. For he gathered vital information he needed from his friend, the butterfly, and he knew he was on the right track. He didn’t smile, although he knew he was heading in the right direction, for heavy thoughts lay on his mind. He realized that he may die in fulfilling his journey, but it must be done.

He grasped his staff once more, and continued to trek up the road…

[longstevo]

It took nearly one hour for the old man to force his way to the top of the ridge. He stopped at the summit and looked at the surrounding landscape and noted once more that if it weren’t for the snow, this place would surely pass for a place in hell. As he turned back towards his destination, a flash of something caught his eye. A simple flash on the opposite side of the canyon forced him to strain his eyes and concentrate his vision on that spot.

Yes, that was what he was looking for. He wrung his staff with his gnarled fingers, as his thoughts became heavy. ‘This could be it,’ he thought. ‘No matter.’ He swallowed his fear and began his way forward towards the commotion in the snow. He kept his eyes on the spot. The flash in the snow occurred near a large pillar of granite, and now the cause of the flash rest behind that stone, he reasoned.

Another half hour passed and he found himself only two hundred yards from the tower of rock. His watchful eye never strayed from the place, and he had seen nothing else to indicate that his quarry had left. He continued forward with his heart pounding in his chest. The pillar of rock rest on the top of a majestic ridge, a place where there was no flat foothold and the old man had to struggle to simply stay on his feet.

He closed the gap to one hundred yards, and still nothing could be seen from behind the stone. Breathing deeply in relief, and half hoping that what he was seeking to find was not behind that granite, he continued forward. At close to fifty yards, he put his left foot forward and set it down in the snow, but he lost his footing. He slipped and fell onto his stomach and began to slide down the hill. Cursing loudly, he plunged his staff into the snow bank and ceased his fall. Once he stopped sliding, he thrashed and wallowed in the deep snow attempting to regain his stance, and struggling to his feet once more, looked towards the granite pillar. And looking upon the great wall of stone, his heart stopped.

A dragon’s head was staring at him.

Fixed on a long, thin neck, a reptilian head peered curiously out from behind the stone pillar. The first thing the old man noticed was the eyes. The sharp, clear, intelligent eyes seemed to bore through his own. The ice blue eyes had no pupils visible at a distance, but they seemed soft, and harbored no harm to the human. The snout jutted out from the main body of the skull, and the mouth harbored just two rows of teeth. A small fin ran up the back of the neck and formed into a larger, triangular crest shooting out of the back of his skull. The creature had not revealed his body, but the man knew that this was a smallish dragon, most likely a youngling. White dragons were known to be the smaller species of dragon, but this one was small even for a white.

Staying absolutely still, the two different creatures stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity for both of them. The dragon bobbed it's head, much like a bird, before stepping out into the open. The man gasped. For even though the dragon was young, it was still one of the most impressive and beautiful animals he’d ever laid eyes on. Ivory wings stretched a span of twenty feet, adding to the majesty of the animal. Ice colored scales covered it’s entire body, causing all light surrounding it to be reflected back, making it quite blinding to look upon. The dragon’s stout legs came down and formed massive, plodding feet with sickle-like claws. And finally, a winding tail tapered off for twelve feet into a point. An intimidating creature it surely was.

The dragon continued to display no signs of aggression. It bobbed it’s head again before taking another step towards the man. They continued to stare at each other, not making a move. The man’s heart pounded in his chest, as it finally dawned on him what was standing before him. Thousands of adventurers and thrill seekers spent their entire lives searching for a dragon and never found one, and now here was one standing before him! He stood in awe, soaking up the majesty of the dragon.

Once again, the dragon bobbed his head. He was obviously not sure what to make of this man, he’d probably never seen one in his life before. Suddenly, the creature made a sound. A sharp, shrill CHIRP rang forth from the beast’s mouth. But there was no aggression or fear in the sound. CHIRP! It didn’t sound like a bird, but more like a squeaking reptile, which is what this was. It was curious, that was certain. He chirped a third time. The sound was actually soothing, kind of cute, really.

A tear fell from the wizard’s eyes, because he knew what had to be done.

[longstevo]

The dragon continued to stare intently at the old man; it’s cold, clear eyes peered into his soul. Pushing his feelings aside, he closed his eyes. Static electricity began to crackle in the air, causing the little wool hairs on his cloak as well as the ends of his snow white locks of hair to stand on end. The dragon sensed the change in the environment and tilted his head to the side, trying in earnest to figure out what this two legged creature was.

The static increased it’s intensity until the space immediately around the wizard began to crackle. The man gripped his staff with both hands and bowed his head. The energy around him became very powerful, and to an onlooker, a purple hue of some sort became visible floating close to him. Slowly and softly, he began to chant in a long forgotten language, as if he were speaking to himself. But the chants became steadily louder and he began reciting them faster. He bowed his head to the rhythm of the words until he stopped his verse and shouted the last syllable at the top of his lungs.

Simultaneously, he released his grip of his staff with his right hand and flung it towards the curious dragon. From the man’s fingertips shot forth a ball of flame. It streaked towards the young wyrm, leaving a smoldering trail of smoke in its path. The White hissed in surprise and fear and leaped aside of the flaming projectile. It flew harmlessly past it and into the snowy mountainside with a hiss.

The dragon whipped his head back to the wizard with fear and anger in its eyes. With another shout of an unknown word, another fireball was streaking towards the dragon. This time, the dragon didn’t wait for the flame to reach it. With a flurry of white wings and a tail, the creature scurried up and over the ridge top.

The old man’s bodily system was charged with the spell he cast upon himself. He knew the results of the incantation only lasted a while. He needed to confront this dragon while he still had the strength to recite and use magical spells. He gripped his staff, and with vigor and endurance enhanced by magic, he leaped and ran to the top of the ridge and looked across the canyon.

There, he saw the White sitting and resting in front of a small cave. He was watching his back trail to ensure he wasn’t being pursued. When he saw he was, in fact, being hunted, he dove into the hole that had provided him safety and protection for the last five or so years. The old man sighed, and began to sprint down into the bottom of the canyon.

[longstevo]

When he finally came upon the opening to the dragon’s cave, the old man stopped. The maw of the crevice in the rocks stretched no more than seven feet wide and four feet tall. He marveled at the creature’s ability to contort itself to fit it’s rather large body into such a small cave. With the magic still coursing through his body, the wizard made his way inside.

Silently, he reached up and took the glass orb off the top of his staff. He breathed in deep and puffed on the clear crystal, which in turn caused the ball to become lit with the most magnificent of light. It looked as if the man were holding a miniature sun in his hands. The brilliant like danced on the ice and rock inside the cave, lighting his way down the pitch-black corridor.

Rough granite walls formed strange formations along the cave walls. Once, when this mountain chain was active, volcanoes ripped open and spewed their boiling contents throughout this land, the old man pondered. The volcanic rock formations burst apart and destroyed many of nature’s natural pedestals of beauty and replaced it with harsh, lifeless rock as lava flowed like rivers down these mountainsides. Of course, that was many ages ago, but the remnants of such devastation were still apparent, as one could trace the flow of the magma throughout many of the caves that still existed, much like this one.

The old man hurried down the tunnel, not sure of how far this cave burrowed into the mountain or if it led somewhere else, where the dragon may escape. But he turned a corner and saw there would be no escape for this small White. For the cave tunnel ended in a large cavernous grotto of cooled lava. The ceiling to this room soared to a height of at least eighty feet, and stretched close to three hundred yards wide. The man noted, it was quite the dragon’s lair.

With the sunlight exploded forth from his crystal, the wizard quickly scanned the room. He noted a hefty pile of bones strewn about in a nearby corner. Without closer inspection, he could not tell if they were animal or human. Quite frankly, he was not sure if he wanted to know. The rays of his magical lamp barely reached the ends of the empty area. But it was all he needed.

The white scales of the dragon reflected the light from the crystal ball like a beacon. He shone brightly at the end of the cavern. The White stared intently at the strange solar illumination that was suddenly lighting up his cave. Blinking, he closed his eyes and shook his head. The light was almost too bright for his ‘night-eyes.’

The old man advanced on the bewildered dragon, muttering unusual chants and spells. He waved his crystal ball in one hand, casting haunting shadows across the walls. He continued walking towards the writhing dragon while talking to himself as if he were a priest preaching the bible.

[longstevo]

The wizard continued forward but stopped when the cave seemed to explode in brilliant light, even for his human eyes. Instinctively, he squinted and raised a hand to protect his vision. The dragon screeched once more, but out of surprise, fear or pain, the man could not tell. Once a moment passed for his pupils to adjust, he quickly studied the cave walls, and discovered that he must have entered an ‘inner sanctum’ of the tunnels. The entire area was covered in thick, clear ice which was effectively acting as a mirror, sending the crystal ball’s blinding rays back and filling the entire room with light.

With a thoughtful grunt, the man set the ball on a nearby rock and returned his attention to the wrym before him. The White was standing perfectly still with it’s gaze fixated on him. Surely the creature’s vision had returned, he thought. He grasped his staff with both hands and walked towards the dragon. The ice blue eyes followed the only dark shape in it’s white surroundings.

Without warning, the dragon stretched it’s wings and beat them to the ground with all it’s might. The force of the wings lifted the heavy wrym skyward. The rush of air nearly knocked the man off his feet, but he held his ground. With three or four subsequent flaps, the dragon dug his claws into the ice-covered wall nearly thirty feet above the floor. He whipped his snout around towards the wizard and hissed his displeasure. He opened his maw wide and roared, sending a concentrated blast of frozen air hurtling towards the man.

The wizard simply thrust his staff forward. For one who was standing in front of the magic user, the air around the man would have felt incredibly hot and humid in an instant. The frigid air lost its chill, becoming a mere wind of putrid, stinking air, sending the man’s coarse beard flying over his shoulder.

The dragon roared, the incredible audible scream bounced off the ice-covered walls, causing the man’s ears to ring from near deafness. The dragon coiled his body and vaulted towards the ground, aiming for the wizard. He watched the bulky mass of the beast fly through the air in his direction. Calmly, he gripped his staff at one end and swung it from right to left, as if he were swinging an axe or claymore at the beast. An invisible hand slapped the dragon out of the air and slammed it into the ice wall with ease. It crashed into the wall with a sickening crack and dropped to the ground with a thud.

It struggled to regain its feet and shook it’s head. While it was just beginning regain a clear mind, a powerful explosion of flame slammed into its freezing side. It screamed in pain and lashed out at the wizard with a swing of its tail. The wizard, still gripping his staff like a huge melee weapon, swung it against the dragon’s elongated tailpiece. As the wooden pole struck the tail, a shower of sparks burst forth and slammed the tail into the ground.

<continued>

[longstevo]

The wizard turned to face the dragon again, only to see a blur of gnashing teeth and slashing claws flying his direction. The old man held out his hand, fingers and palm up, and a nearly invisible magical dome flashed around him. The hazy, blue field repelled the dragon, sending him bouncing off the protective orb and sliding across the ice floor. Thrashing and clawing to regain its feet, the dragon dug his claws into the ice and flipped it’s heavy body upright.

The wizard brought his hand in close to his body and clenched it into a fist. The balled-up hand appeared to glow red, just before he thrust the fist towards the dragon. A twirling stream of fire burst forth from his fingers and flew at the dragon. Before the wrym had a chance to dodge the attack, the flow of flame crashed into the beast at the base of the neck. The creature screamed in pain and bit the air. It stretched and flexed it’s wings in agony as the extreme heat began to melt the freezing ice that covered it’s scales.

[longstevo]

The wizard followed up with three smaller fireballs that struck the dragon in it’s chest, hindquarters and just below the head. The extreme heat was too much for the young White to handle, and it felt the life force beginning to escape its body. The wyrm teetered on its feet, attempting to stay upright. Its head rolled back, then came crashing to the ground, the rest of the body followed. With a tremendous thud, the dragon fell to the icy earth, and lay still. The man stood for a minute and observed the creature. The wings fluttered a bit, as did its eyelids. The intelligent orbs socked inside the skull continued to pierce through the old man’s soul in defiance, even in its hour of death. The huge diaphragm and ribcage rose and fell gently, as the lungs continued to claim air.

Approaching cautiously, the wizard began to speak softly to the dragon. The ancient language was known to no one outside of his Order, but somehow, the dragon could understand, even if he hadn’t gained the power or wisdom to speak human words.

“Sleep softly, wondrous creature, for your time on this earth is completed. It fills me with sorrow to take you from this world, but know this: a paradise awaits you. Soon, you will soar with your father and grandfather. You will rule a sky that is not threatened by a race who fears you, and who seeks to destroy you,” the wizard knelt down next to the dragon’s head and put a soothing hand on top of the icy scales. They were so cold to the touch that they nearly burned the wizard’s hand. The penetrating eyes continued to stare into the old man, not with hate or rage, but with forgiveness. The body rose and fell once more with a breath. “Go now, my friend. For your ancestors await your arrival,” A deep, throaty growl rumbled from the dragon’s throat. The wizard was slightly shocked that he could understand a single word of the otherwise incomprehensible rumbling.

“….name…”

The wizard ran his hand from the tip of the dragon’s snout to the crest on the top of its head and smiled, “My name is Olean.” <<OH-lee-en>>

The ribcage rose once more as the dragon closed its eyes. Another gurgle escaped the creature’s throat. “…Muirdris…” His name. Olean continued to stroke the dragon’s head in its final hour. But the lungs finally stopped filling with air, and then the clear eyes simply stared out into the abyss, dead and cold. The man stood up and said a short prayer. "Go peacefully, my brother."

[longstevo]

With a heavy sigh the old man set about his work. First, he retrieved his glowing orb and set it closer to the fallen dragon. The light still shone brightly, casting new shadows as it changed places. Olean then set his staff against a nearby rock before reaching into the folds of his cloak. His long, slender fingers found the hilt of the elegant dagger on his belt and wrapped around the grip, pulling it from its leather sheath.

The silver blade flashed brilliantly in the magical light, almost creating a light of its own. If one looked directly into the blade, it would seem as if they were gazing into a quiet forest pool and seeing their own reflection. But one must be cautious not to stare into the images for too long, for more than one poor man lost his soul to an enchanted blade such as this, only to wander for the rest of his days an empty shell of what he used to be.

Turning to the dragon, Olean placed a hand on the dragon’s hide. The sheer coldness of it nearly burned his fingertips, and he withdrew quickly. This surely would be a challenging task, if he were not able to touch the dragon’s flesh. Stepping back, Olean quickly judged the dragon’s age to be around five. Using an ancient mathematical equation his order had prepared long ago, he took the age, divided by some other number, and so on and so forth.

The formula gave him a certain number, which he used to count down the number of scales from the base of the dragon’s jaw line to a point near the brisket, between the front legs. Kneeling down, he placed two fingers near that point and pressed. Olean must have found what he was looking for, because with a thoughtful, “Hmmm…” he brought the dagger up to his fingers and slowly slipped the magical blade inside.

The weapon sliced easily through the coat of frost covering the dragon’s entire body and through it’s armor-like scales. Olean cut quickly, but cautiously, deeper and deeper into the creature’s chest cavity. He withdrew the blade, and taking his hand, reached all the way into his incision. His arm was nearly one third of the way in when he felt what he was looking for. A gap in the rib bones, about the size of two human fists, indicated where the dragon’s heart was located. Olean pointed his fingers straight out and pushing forward, he punctured the membrane covering the gap. By the time the wizard was nearly in past his shoulder, he felt it.

Inside the dragon was just as cold as its exterior, but its heart was very warm. The organ was only the size of two human fists and the theory of the ribcage-gap had a direct relation to the organ size appeared to be true. He reached in with his other hand wielding the blade and carefully cut the heart free from connecting veins and pulled it out. He held it in his hands for a moment, reveling in the moment. His arms and hands were surprisingly blood free, but the stench of blood reeked throughout the immediate area.

He closed his eyes and spoke four words, while with one hand, he set only his fingertips on the flesh. After the fourth word, the heart seemed to grow a crystal-like shell. And then it appeared to be nothing more than a fancy stone. With a sigh, he reached into the folds of his robe and placed the crystallized heart in an unseen pouch. He turned to walk back outside the cave and did not look back. For without the heart, a dragon is nothing more than a collection of bones, sinew and tissue.

[longstevo]

Slowly, ever so slowly, the snow began to fade and lessen as Olean walked down the mountain. Green shrubs and brown bushes reclaimed their own color from the white dominance of the snow’s grasp. Sometimes fortunate enough to find an animal trail to travel, other times forced to make his own path over giant rocks and dense brush, the old man struggled to find his way down. Once he did finally make his way down to the point where he first started up the mountain, his horse was still there.

A short whiney of excitement emanated from his steed as the horse cantered its way up to him, shoving its nose in the wizard’s chest. He laughed and cradled the head of his horse. “Ha ha, Montego. It is wonderful to see you again,” the horse nuzzled him once more before turning sideways to allow her rider to mount. She was anxious to get back on the road after being required to stay put for nearly three days. Olean didn’t have any gear to stow on the saddlebags. He took only what was on his body and hidden in his robes up the mountain. He grasped the saddle horn, placed his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up, and immediately felt comfortable back in the saddle again.

He cast his eyes from where he came from, looking at the craggy peak stabbing into the sky. A pang of sadness rolled in his heart for a moment, as the regret of killing one of the world’s rarest creatures began to weigh heavily on him. But he had no choice. It was his order’s bidding. And in the real world a wizard, especially one so deep in the arcane arts as Olean, needed to belong to an order to help him maintain and control his magical energy. If his abilities were not contained, there would be no telling what might happen.

A chirp of a bird broke him out of his trance. But something was not exactly normal about the bird. An unassuming person would not recognize it, but the key of the chirp was off just by a note or two for that type of bird species. Olean stared hard into a dark section of forest merely fifty yards away and saw him.

There, concealed in a dark and thick grove of twisted vine maples and brambles, Olean could just barely discern the shape of a hooded man, robed in black. The wizard’s hawk-like eyes could make out the symbol of his own order embroidered on the front of the shirt. There was no reason to fear. Olean raised a hand in greeting, and received the same gesture in response. A little bird suddenly perched itself on Olean’s shoulder, and after only a moment, broke into a wild rant to chirps and tweets, making no sense at all before flying off.

But to a wizard it made sense. Olean had received his next assignment. He looked back to the mysterious figure in the woods, but it was gone. He nodded and sighed. It appeared the Order would surely get its dues from him. With powers stronger than most others, it took more work to keep them in check, and this took a toll on the elders. So they used him extensively in the field, putting his magic to best use. And also, he wouldn’t be present at the Order’s tower if he were to have…an accident.

Nodding once more, he pressed his fingers to the back to Montego’s skull. The same image flashed in both their eyes for a moment: their destination. The horse whinnied again before bolting down the dirt path which would eventually turn into the only main highway in the immediate region.

They made for the port city of Seawall.

End Chapter One

[longstevo]

Chapter Two

A Chat with the Devine

The sun was just beginning to rise in the Far East when Olean rounded the final bend on the way to the port city of Seawall. He marveled how it seemed the gods simply drew a line in the sand, for one minute, Montego was galloping down a steep mountain road, with cliffs and bluffs shooting up into the sky, and with the turn of a road, nothing but flat, coastal plains met their eyes. Olean looked back, glad to be out of the rugged mountains for a change.

Seawall appeared to rise up out of the ocean from where they were at. For where the green of the land faded into the blue of the sea, the two parallel lines of the shore and horizon ran together for all eternity. But the stone gray, almost silver towers of Seawall interrupted that perfect union, but in no way negatively. Olean counted at least nine spires jutting out from inside the expansive walls of the majestic city, and he judged them to be nearly three hundred feet high.

His heart pounded in his chest, from both anticipation and anxiety. He spurred Montego on faster, for he wanted nothing more than to be inside the city and witness all of its fantastic wonders. But he feared what he had to do. He disliked taking the life of Muirdris. And that poor dragon was a lonely creature in the forgotten mountains, known to no one. His new assignment was a popular dragon, beloved by nearly everyone in the city. How he was going to acquire the heart of this one, he did not know.

[longstevo]

The large pearl gates of Seawall were wide open when Olean rode up to them. A guard smiled and wished him a good day as he passed through. ‘Strange,’ thought the old man. Decency was getting increasingly difficult to find in the world these days, as people were becoming tense and afraid of an unseen fear. Olean pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and enjoyed the hospitality of the port town.

The streets were crowded with people pushing carts of goods and animals pulling wagons with even more goods. It soon became obvious that trade was number one to the economy here. Everywhere he looked, people were trading merchandise, with coin clinking in exchange. More than one exasperated customer threw up his hands in frustration as he walked away from a deal, the merchant greedily clinking the coins in a bag from the transaction.

Olean found a stable to keep Montego. As he flipped the stable boy three gold pieces, a look of scorn and disgust hung on the boy’s face. It was clear he expected more than just three gold pieces. Sternfully, Olean said, “You keep care of that horse, and maybe there will be more in it for you,” A smile lit up the boy’s face, and off he ran to tend to Montego.

Ducking into the crowd, Olean tried his best not to stand out. For a tall and bearded man with long, flowing robes carrying a six-foot high staff was a spectacle to behold for sure. Many people stopped and stared as he passed by. Several children took it upon themselves to follow the old man in his tracks, curious to see if in fact this man was a wizard. Ignoring the children, Olean pressed on through the throngs of people.

He looked for what the small bird had told him of back in the forest. Supposedly, a grand bronze dragon lived on one of the islands to the east of the city. But, this creature apparently spent most of its time resting on a city wall overlooking the ocean. Strange that a dragon would inhabit the dwellings of humans, and why, he had not idea. But, this was where his next lead had led him, so he continued.

He suddenly had an idea. He glanced back, and caught the eye of a little girl, no more than six or seven. Quickly, Olean ducked into an alley. Just as he expected, four or five children’s heads popped around the corner, searching for him. He smiled, and uttered three simple phrases in that strange magic tongue, and suddenly, the children’s apprehensions of the intimidating man were gone. They felt as comfortable around him as they did around their fathers or grandpas. The five kids came running up to him, smiling and laughing.

He spread his arms wide as the children crashed into him, hugging and clutching and just being affectionate. Deep down, it made him sick. He really had no love for children, but he bit his tongue and carried on.

“Hello, my dears,” he began, his magically-enhanced forked tongue spinning its web of deceit. He began with small talk, asking about school, and families, and pets, anything to bring them to the same level of understanding and interest. Once he knew he had them hooked, and dropped the question.

“You have a dog?” he asked a little girl, “What is its name?”

“Charlie,” the little girl sheepishly answered with a smile.

“Charlie, a very good name,” he smiled warmly, “You know what? I heard that this city has a pet of its own. A pet dragon!”

The little girl nodded excitedly, “Yeah! He sits on the east wall and stares at the water. He eats bad fish, and saves people!” A taller boy smacked her in the back of the head and whispered harshly to her, “Shut up! You know we’re not supposed to tell strangers about Rahu!”

Olean’s brow twisted with confusion, although he knew exactly what was going on, and it was leading exactly where he wanted it to. “Who is this…Rahu?”

“It’s our pet dragon!” the little girl exclaimed, “I love him!”

So there it was. The dragon’s name, Rahu, and where to find him. He snapped his fingers, and all the kids blinked once, then twice. Then seemed to come out of some sort of trance. Suddenly, the saw Olean, and became very timid.

“Rarr!!” he shouted and threw up his hands. All the children screamed in fear and bolted from the alley. Chuckling to himself, Olean left the alley from the other side…