I woke up with a sudden start, and, despite being still excited for the fact I could dream, I rushed to the old tower, knowing that I had a duty now. In less than a dozen steps I had managed to arrive there, and as I ascended the old staircase, some of the weathered and old bricks fell under my weight.
The red and greedy eyes of Dream-Mardhaka watched over the town with a hunger seldom seen in other species. Her purple scales, so loved by Cirruin since she cracked the shell of her egg, shone under the last rays of the sun, giving her an aspect divine. It seemed like a piece of the purest night had descended upon the settlement to tax the sins of every man and woman. She took a while to notice I was standing close to her, on the same roof, but when she did, she dedicated me a haughty stare.
“Run or die,” she threatened in the tongue of dragons, a tongue no man alive spoke.
I had a simple word to say to her, one that would reveal I was not a human. “Mardhaka.”
That caused her to startle, to shift her position, less so in a sudden movement than in a swap of instant images.
“A man who dares utter my name?” she said, placing her open, foul smelling maw in front of me.
“I am as much a man as you are a dragon, dear.”
Those words could not be more true, but to her they rang wrong, or so I guess, because with a single bite she snapped me in two, with teeth of dreams that hurt infinitely more than those of the wolves.
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Being eaten by a dragon had always been an… interesting way to die, but I had no time to wallow in it once I reappeared. Zenvo needed me if they wanted a chance to survive the night without casualties.
When I arrived again to the stony roof of the watchtower, Mardhaka was still chewing on a leg that I used to own. She froze, looking at me with whale eyes, as the locals did when they thought me a ghost.
“I see, I am dreaming,” she said, and after a few seconds guffawed. “Very insistent dream, you are. Pretty playful or masochistic, too.”
“Don’t play innocent with me, Mardhaka. We share the same maker, whether we call him father like you do, or dreamer like I do.”
She crossed her paws and addressed me while looking directly into my eyes then.
“Greetings are owed in that case, Cirruin. But don’t let the mist of dreams cloud your perception of reality: I am an adult since long ago. To obey you is not an obligation anymore, but an option taken out of respect and even, I dare say, pity. And yet you come to me through a human avatar: were this your imposing young self instead, dear father, perchance I’d obey.”
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“Do not refer to me as I were him. I am not the dragon that dreams me, sister, if you find it adequate for a dream of Cirruin to call you that. Call me Terus, for I have chosen to be called so, even if your father and my maker were to ever give me any other name.”
Then she exploded in laughter again. Looking at me through amused eyes.
“Oh night, a rogue dream! Entertaining, could hardly be more so!”
“I hope this amusement you derive from my circumstances can warrant a truce for this human population. I have taken interest in studying them.”
Mardhaka began to waver.
“Fine, little mischievous Terus. Out of respect for my father, I extend you this nicety. However…”
And so Mardhaka ate me once more —without sparing the chewing— before vanishing.
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The previous section took numerous attempts to finish, as my intermittent existence is going through a particularly unstable moment. Cirruin must be about to wake up, maybe to feast on the nearby carcass of some wild animal, maybe to go to the bathroom. He will go back to sleep soon, I hope. I cannot fathom the joy human scribes must face when the draft is done, when the words don’t disappear once they are put onto the paper. Mine keep disappearing, I keep having to fill in the blanks. Frustrating, friend, it cannot be otherwise for me.
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A dragon’s dream should always care to not turn his dreamer’s dream into a nightmare. This is what I thought as I walked the changed streets of Zenvo. Sure, the cobblestones below were the same, the walls had not shifted place, and the grass in the cracks followed the natural course of its development. The street curs of that day were certainly the same that had roamed the streets the day prior. But the people stared at me. Not like a predator stares at its prey, but the other way round. A mixture of awe and fear had invaded their faces, with varying proportions depending on the individual. The truth was most of them bore a visage that resulted in a mockery of both fright and amazement.
“Sir, did you truly slay the dragon?” asked a little girl, pulling from my cape.
“There are things I don’t do, cub. Slaying dragons among them. I’d be pleased if you unhand me, little thing.”
She obeyed slowly, shyly, probably disappointed that the new hero of town was but a fraud.
“Traveler, are you a mage?” asked a strong, tall man that smelled unlike the other citizens.
Looking up to match our stares, I shook my head. “I am only a man as mundane as the town from which he hails, good sir.”
“But you repelled the dragon, or vanquished it, at least. Correct?”
“It could have been anyone; it was far away from here. Why do you think it was me?”
“Because you are dressed the selfsame, and a guard said he spotted you, wearing a different attire, some days ago, on the outskirts of the city.”
“I was having an utterly worldly conversation with my sister while the dragon sighting happened, you got the wrong man.”
“You are bad at lying, for a mage. Good, try and keep your secrets, not every settlement treats your kind with the hospitality Zenvo does. I understand. Just know the people are glad you drove the lizard away, and if you ever need something forged, I am your man.” He pointed at his chest with the right hand’s thumb.
“I find myself pleased by your kind offer, yet, I am no dragon slayer. I could even consider it an insult. I am no savior either.”
Tired of the unwanted attention, I willed myself back to the yard of the couple. I wanted to make sure they were fine.