Alistair felt someone shake him awake. Ilvara knelt next to him with her hand firmly grasped around his shoulder. He looked around and saw that the sun had started to peek through the leafy canopy above their little patch of forest. They weren’t that far off from Deadwood still, so for a moment there he thought that the undead had followed them.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, rubbing the sand from his eyes.
“It’s first light. We should be moving soon,” Ilvara replied. The fire had been restarted and a meal of rabbit was cooking. She’d been up for a while, it looked like.
Still groggy, Alistair managed to get himself up. He walked down to the nearby brook to wash his face. The cool water gave him the help he needed to finish waking up. The gentle flow of the stream had lulled him to sleep last night. Amazing that something this beautiful could be so close to something as horrid as the lands of the dead.
He did a quick check to make sure Ilvara hadn’t wandered over. She was certainly capable of sneaking up on him at any moment, but for now the coast remained clear. Alistair went ahead and relieved his bladder while he had the chance. He’d learned from the ride last time that horseback exacerbated any issues one might have down there.
Satisfied, he headed back up the way toward camp. Crickets and frogs chirped and croaked around him to form an odd duet that morning. The ground there was uneven and Alistair had to carefully watch his step. He pulled himself up from the gulley with the help of some stiff undergrowth poking out the side of the eroded ground.
Ilvara had taken the skewered rabbit off the fire by now. She had her own share divided from his. As he approached, Alistair noticed that she had removed her veil to eat. This was his first time seeing her face unobstructed by a mask or cloth. She looked, well about what Alistair had expected actually. The elf had a mouth and nose the same as humans did, perhaps sculpted into something a bit more sharp or refined. Her lips in particular were an interesting shade of faded lavender. They stood out on her otherwise stone-colored complexion.
“What?” Ilvara asked. She’d noticed his very obvious stare a league away.
He shrugged. “Nothing.”
Alistair sat down for his meal and began to eat. The elf didn’t look convinced but she continued eating all the same.
They sat for a while. It was a comfortable silence they shared with the ambience of the crackling fire, the babbling brook, and the cawing of birds. Their steeds weren’t too far, grazing off the grass by the treeline. He hoped that this peace would be a good sign for the day to come. The two of them had much to do.
Alistair cleared his throat. “So,” he said. “I figure you had some sort of plan in mind for when we got the egg back. Mind if I hear about it?”
Ilvara swallowed a chunk of rabbit. “A plan shouldn’t be necessary for something this simple. We take the egg directly to the roost. Present it to the creature, receive a favor if it's feeling generous, and then we leave. Easy.”
“Are you sure it’ll be that easy?” Alistair had the look of a skeptic about him.
“No,” Ilvara said. She tore apart the meat from the bone like a ravenous beast. He wondered if all elves acted with the same candor. “But, there certainly isn’t any plan I could think of that would save us from a dragon’s attack. I can’t imagine anything else getting in our way that would warrant concern. Can you?”
“I guess not.”
“Good.” Ilvara threw the piece of spent bone over her shoulder. “Then let’s get moving.”
Alistair looked down at his meal. He had barely made it halfway through yet. How was she so fast? While she extinguished the flames and cleaned up camp, he scarfed the rest of his food the best he could.
Bedroll in hand, Alistair walked with her over to their horses. Ilvara held the egg in her hands, having decided to keep it with them at camp. He repacked everything into his rucksack on the trailing horse. Meanwhile, Ilvara deftly climbed into the saddle of the lead one. He made his way over to her, and Ilvara even preemptively had her hand out to help him.
“What?” she asked, a little impatient this time.
“Can I ask a small favor?”
Ilvara narrowed her eyes a tad. “What kind of favor?”
“Would you mind showing me how to ride a horse?” Alistair asked, sheepishly. He felt a bit embarrassed the longer he went without knowing how to properly ride a steed. “I feel it’s something I should know how to do.”
The elf seemed to weigh his request. From what he knew about her, she didn’t like wasting time. It went hand in hand with her lack of patience and short temper. But, she was also the kind of person that liked to put her knowledge on display. Ilvara certainly knew how to ride a horse well, so who better to ask?
It’d just be nice if she didn’t use the opportunity to berate him, as she sometimes liked to do.
Alistair found himself pleasantly shocked when Ilvara shifted back a bit in the saddle so that there was space for him to sit in front. She explained to him how to properly mount the horse using the stirrups and the proper way to shift his body up onto the saddle. Then she took his hands into her own and made him properly grip the reins.
What followed was a difficult half hour, maybe more. Difficult for Alistair, surely infuriating for Ilvara the teacher. Still, he managed to learn some rudimentary methods of controlling the horse’s movement and speed. He even managed to sustain a galloping sprint for a short while without getting too sick. Alistair considered it a victory.
Ilvara seemed particularly relieved to have the reins back in her hands when they switched back. Still, by the end of their lesson she looked somewhat satisfied with his efforts. So much so that she only gave him one nasty comment to describe the events of that morning lesson. He’d consider that a victory too.
With the impromptu lesson out of the way, Ilvara got them back on track. They started to make their way to the mountains a few hours north from where they were. Bredon remained a speck on the horizon to their southeast, Deadwood’s border further east.
“Shouldn’t we go back and tell Broderick of our success?” Alistair remembered that the paladin had asked him to return to the village so that they could go together. He'd feel better having the paladin with them.
“I’d rather not keep a giant dragon waiting,” Ilvara replied. She didn’t slow down or make to turn. Her mind was made up. “Besides, we bring your powerful friend along, the beacon of magic he is, and the draca mór might interpret that as a challenge.”
Alistair thought about it for a second. “Wait, are you saying I’m not intimidating enough for the dragon? Not even a little bit?”
“Well, that’s certainly one way to put it.” He could have sworn he heard something resembling a chuckle come out from her. Ilvara had actually laughed at him.
“Thanks, that’s very sweet of you,” he said dryly.
“Anytime.”
----------------------------------------
The two of them made good time, all things considered. Soon enough they found themselves near the base of one snow-capped peak of rock. Thankfully these weren’t particularly tall mountains, since he’d never really climbed one before and wasn't confident in his skill to do so. Ilvara assured him that the lair of the dragon would have an entrance suitable for them to climb into.
This particular lair had been mapped by Ilvara, or at least another pathfinder of her kind, over one hundred years ago she said. She doubted the dragon they had met in Bredon actually ‘owned’ the lair so much as taken it over. Roosts this close to human civilization had been unused for quite some time according to the elf. Too dangerous and too obvious, but it would have served the visiting dragon as an easy spot to rest.
Ilvara tied the horses up to a nearby fallen log. Alistair made to grab his spear again, though he hesitated a moment. Would he want to bring a weapon to a meeting meant for peace? He tightened his grip on it instead. If things went south, he certainly didn’t want to try fighting a dragon of all things with his fists.
“So, how does someone climb a mountain?” he asked.
Ilvara pointed to an animal trail through the nearby woods. It would lead them closer to the rocky cliff face. She took the egg and gently held it in one arm.
“There should be a path of sorts up the side of the mountain. We just have to find it.”
“A path? Why would a dragon make a path like that to its lair?” It seemed counterintuitive.
“The dragon most certainly didn’t. A geevshey pathfinder or stoneshaper did, though.”
“Stoneshaper?”
They walked through the forest as the talk progressed. Over fallen tree branches and the soft crunch of dead leaves, the two made steady progress. Wind whistled through the trees and brought with it a hint of that cool mountain breeze.
“Our riding lesson was one thing,” Ilvara said as she blazed a path through the undergrowth like it was nothing. He found it hard to follow in her light and practiced footsteps. “I don’t have the time nor the energy to explain my people’s many talents to you.”
“Fair enough,” he replied.
Alistair sucked in air as he felt his foot stub into a rock, and then a branch smacked him on the cheek. How was she so good at avoiding all this? Ilvara moved like she knew every inch of that land.
As time went on he noticed they were climbing in altitude. The dirt and grass became less frequent the higher they climbed. Trees were shaped and angled oddly. Moss covered much of the rock beneath their feet. They had a better look at the imposing scale of the mountain as it seemed to engulf their vision.
The relic token around his neck began to tingle and rattle. He stopped a moment and grasped the bauble around his neck. Ilvara kept moving forward, oblivious. Alistair felt the presence of something close by, something magical. It felt familiar to him, but this wasn’t the dragon. This was something smaller, man-sized.
He felt pulled in a direction and turned to look that way. It angled him toward the bottom of the mountain again, and there he saw something. Not a person, but the clear signs of someone approaching them. Smoke and flame. A fire had begun to spread through the forest, as if some elemental force made to chase after them.
Kevin. He knew it had to be him.
Alistair glanced back at Ilvara to warn her. To the elf’s credit, she had recognized something was amiss and turned back a dozen or so paces ahead. Together they shared a knowing look, one that said nothing good could come of this.
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“What should we do?” he asked. Kevin surely wasn’t there to help them return the egg. He’d only get in the way or try and sabotage them.
“I don’t know. He’s your comrade, isn’t he?”
Alistair bitterly shook his head. “Not my comrade, no.” Furthest from it, in fact. “I know him though, enough to know he’s not here for anything good. I’d bet on that.”
Ilvara shifted the weight of the heavy egg in her hands. She seemed deep in thought. Meanwhile, Kevin had finally managed to reach line of sight with them. Of course, he was already transformed into the mantle of Flame. It made him look like some kind of fire spirit consumed with rage, which seemed apt considering the circumstances.
Alistair decided that they didn’t have time to wait for one of Ilvara’s plans. He needed to make a decision this time. Off the cuff.
“Go on ahead, Ilvara,” Alistair said after a moment, his hand tightly grasping the relic token. “I’ll keep him busy.”
She gave him an odd look, as if she hadn’t expected him to volunteer so easily.
“Are you sure?” she asked, somewhat softly. A hint of concern maybe?
He turned back toward Kevin and took a deep breath to steady himself. “Yeah, I think so.”
Alistair heard the wisp of the wind and he knew Ilvara was gone. He appreciated the small inkling of faith she must've had in him.
Kevin was close now, a mere shouting distance away. The Aegis body formed around him and he became a giant again. His knuckles tightened around the pikestaff in his hand. Despite his confidence from earlier, he felt his nerves threaten to overtake him. This wouldn't be an easy fight.
“Out of the way!” Kevin continued his march up the cliff face, unafraid of the Aegis in front of him. “I knew the moment I saw your horses you were intent on grabbing the glory for yourself.”
“There’s no glory here, Kevin. I haven’t come to slay the dragon,” Alistair replied, doing his damned best to keep his voice level and calm.
The Caldwell boy snorted. “Oh, that’s good. Did you come up with that on the way here? Think it would be convincing?”
“I’m telling the truth,” Alistair continued, unabated. “We managed to find what the dragon was searching for. It had lost an egg, stolen by a band of mercenaries. We’re returning it to put an end to the attacks.”
“What do you mean ‘we’?” Kevin asked, his tone suspicious.
“I’m here with a friend.” Alistair hiked a meaty finger over his shoulder. “She’s already on her way up.”
“You expect me to believe that you have a friend this far from home?” Kevin’s irritation grew every single time Alistair bothered to say anything. The flames that covered his armored body swelled with each passing second, as if in tune with his emotions.
“How did you even find us?” Alistair found it odd he managed to get there so quickly.
Kevin fiddled with his sword, Deadsbane. “Broderick sent me to keep an eye on this area in the early morning. He suspected the dragon’s lair would be nearby, but he couldn’t be sure of it. It didn’t take a genius to see you weren’t with us, and I knew something had happened last night." He tapped on his chest. "It became a trifling matter to track you down when my relic started to rattle off.”
Alistair narrowed his eyes, an expression impossible to see through his helm.
“Why are you so intent on killing the dragon? I just told you we have another way to fix this without risking our lives.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Kevin waved a burning hand in front of him. “Nevermind, I don’t expect an idiot like yourself to get it. The Lady blessed us with these powers to fight, not prance around like little girls. She respects valor, feats of bravery, and brutal honesty!”
“There’s plenty of that to be found elsewhere, Kevin—” Alistair began, but Kevin interrupted him.
“Stop calling me that, you little bastard.” Kevin seethed, angling his sword at Alistair. “I don’t give a damn what power the Lady gave you! You’ll never be anything more than a peasant, a peasant my family owns, need I remind you.”
Alistair felt himself rising to anger. Things weren’t going to end well.
“The renown for killing this dragon will be my ticket to Avalon,” Kevin said. He readied his two-handed greatsword and made to advance on the incline. “There’s no way I’ll share the rewards with the likes of you. Out of the way!”
“No,” the Aegis replied.
He would act as a bulwark and keep the scion rooted right there while Ilvara made it to the top. It wouldn’t be an easy fight by any stretch. Kevin had the advantage of offensive power with his flames, even if he lacked brute strength. But Alistair had to do it. He had made a promise and he intended to keep it.
The supplicant of the Flame began to laugh. He lowered his weapon as if he wanted to say something else, perhaps continue their verbal sparring. Instead, he flicked his wrist. A blast of flame erupted from his hand, straight toward the Aegis.
The stream of flame enveloped Alistair. It was too quick to dodge. Pain washed over his front as the flame licked at his armored skin. He couldn’t sidestep out of the way as the flame spread further out around him.
Instead, Alistair ran forward through the flames. Kevin hadn’t expected that. The Caldwell boy fumbled his arms as he attempted to ready his heavy sword. The flames disappeared as Alistair closed to mere few feet away. With all his weight he slammed into the Flame mantle user. It knocked Kevin right off his feet and sent him tumbling down the slope.
Alistair breathed in deep. The air burned in his lungs even now. Everything smelled acrid. He was thankful for the amulet of fire resistance now more than ever. The magical enchantment must have helped him weather the attack, if only a little.
Kevin forced himself to his feet. The ground beneath him burned beneath an intense inferno. Trees, underbrush, grass. All of it caught fire because he couldn’t control his flames. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
They clashed with the forest burning down around them. Cold iron against enchanted steel. Kevin the trained duelist, Alistair with the advantage of reach. It still wasn't an even match by any stretch. The Caldwell’s sheer ferocity and speed with which he fought overwhelmed the slower Alistair, who struggled to keep up. All the while, the Aegis user noticed his vitality dwindle.
Just being in proximity to Kevin seemed to hurt him. The flames were more than decoration, and they had grown even stronger since their duel in the courtyard. Alistair struggled to block the sword strikes as they landed. He had to thank the Lady that his cold iron could hold up to Kevin’s greatsword, otherwise he’d be down to his fists.
Alistair backed up to get some range and threw out his pikestaff for Kevin’s chest. The swordsman easily parried it with a flick of his wrist, but then he hissed in pain. The Sight told him that his Internal Damage passive had kicked in. Blocked or not, part of the damage still managed to get through Kevin’s guard. This only served to anger Kevin more, and each successive strike of his became more frenzied and intense.
Then, Alistair felt something hot envelop him. All over himself, he could feel the scorching pain of fire. The Sight told him that he had acquired the “Burning” status effect. Kevin had managed to set him on actual fire! His vitality ticked down consistently as he tried to gain some distance from the Caldwell boy.
“Not so tough now are you?” Kevin pressed his attack, laughing as he did.
For every step the Aegis moved back, the Flame mantle took two steps forward. The “burning” effect on its own only lasted for a few seconds, so Kevin kept the pressure on. He was trying to maximize his chances of inflicting 'Burn' on Alistair with every successful strike, and every moment they stood close together. Kevin’s relic mantle had a simple but very effective combat strategy and Alistair found his own powers faltering. The Aegis relied on allies to perform at its best, and now he stood alone.
Alistair managed to earn a slight reprieve when his pikestaff brushed Kevin’s side. Another glancing blow, normally nothing the noble would concern himself with. He'd stomach the Internal Damage effect, then move on with a counter. But this time Alistair finally nailed his 12% chance of a stun Knockout. Kevin froze in place like a statue, unable to even speak.
Enough of this, Alistair thought. He picked up Kevin, ignoring the pain it caused, and yanked him off the ground. Alistair roared, and with all his strength, he threw Kevin into the nearest solid object. This time a tree, much of its leaves and bark already burned away. The smaller supplicant impacted with a heavy thud, Kevin's back bearing the brunt of it.
With only a second or two left of the stun and almost no vitality left, Alistair took hold of Kevin’s ankle and whipped him further down the incline. While in the air, the noble lost his grip on Deadsbane and it fell to the ground somewhere. Alistair’s weapon had already fallen away from him, not that he had much strength to use it. That last bit had taken everything out of him.
Kevin’s crumpled form came to rest somewhere further down. He couldn’t see through the smoke and fire. All around him the flames raged. Alistair tried to stand but found himself running on empty. Maybe a few seconds more and the Aegis would give out.
Is this how I die?
He felt a tug on his armored skin and soon he was back in his human body. What resistances he had to the smoke and heat were gone now. Alistair collapsed to the ground. All of his stamina had left him. He struggled to breathe, sweat beading down his forehead. Not just sweat, he realized, but tears as well. In these final moments, he found himself afraid of the end.
Not yet! Please, My Lady!
Alistair grasped at the dirt and grass. He tried to pull himself further up the mountain, to safety. The fire had already cut off his means of escape, he realized. Not even Ilvara could come back down and save him. He was completely surrounded.
Breathing only hurt him more. His lungs were on fire. He coughed up phlegm as his esophagus filled with soot and smoke. Alistair found it impossible to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds.
In the distance, Alistair thought he heard something. A gust of wind, perhaps. He was too tired to lift his head and see. It was all he could do but keep his head down and pray none of the trees around him fell. The relic token weakly rattled as something magical approached.
Something big.
Then he felt it. A gust of wind, much stronger this time. It smacked against his back with an intense feeling of heat. More gusts blasted him almost in a rhythmic beat. The earth shook beneath him and he heard a terrifying growl. Alistair uncovered his head and risked a glance.
The dragon had landed in the burning remains of the forest. Its wings had been flapping hard as it landed. They were the source of the wind earlier. With its claws, tail, and snout it cleared a path from the woodland debris. Alistair could tell it was heading toward him. To finish him off, maybe.
No, maybe not. He saw a figure on the back of the dragon. It was Ilvara! She had ridden the dragon down from its perch high above. The elf dismounted just a few feet away, leaping from her makeshift saddle to the hard ground below. She ran over to him and rolled Alistair onto his back.
“Still alive?” she asked, rhetorically. From her waist, she procured a waterskin and forced him to drink from its contents.
He hadn’t realized how parched he'd become in just a manner of minutes. His lips felt like they were chapped, bleeding.
“Somehow,” he muttered, coughing as he did.
“Let’s get you out of here. Come, grab onto me.”
Somehow she managed to awkwardly pull him to his feet. Arm over her shoulder, Alistair allowed her to guide him to the waiting dragon. Its attention had been focused further down, toward the foot of the mountain. Now seeing the winter elf return, it reluctantly stooped down so that they could mount behind its neck. Alistair’s relic token shook from the overwhelming presence of magic next to him.
“How’d you manage to fly on this?” he called out over the sounds of fire. She had him use the tough scales as handholds while she pushed him up.
Ilvara shook her head. “I don’t have the time to give you another lesson today.”
After they managed to hop on, the dragon flexed its wings as if to gather strength. The fire in their area had finally started to calm, but it left little alive in its wake. He felt his stomach churn as the massive creature began to lift off of the ground. Alistair’s hands instinctively went for Ilvara’s waist, afraid to fall. To her credit, she let him be.
The two of them hung on for dear life as they became airborne. They were taken in a circuitous motion around the forest fire. Alistair at first was afraid to look down, but he couldn’t deny this one chance in a lifetime to see the ground from this high up. From their height, he couldn’t see any details: not his weapon, not the horses they rode in on, and especially not Kevin. He did see something interesting though.
“Looks like your friend made it,” Ilvara shouted over the wind. She pointed just where Alistair had been looking.
Down below, a small blue figure launched blasts of water into the burning forest. Tidal waves spawned from seemingly nothing and began to clear out the blazing flames and still smoldering embers. Broderick must have seen the fire from Bredon and come to help. Alistair figured that he would find Kevin in the mess, sooner or later.
Their reunion would have to wait, though. The dragon began to turn and angle itself back for the mountain above. Back to its borrowed lair.
We have a few things to speak about, you and I.
A deep, booming voice echoed in his mind. Alistair found himself frightened and confused by the sudden noise reverberating in his brain. He noticed the dragon angle its neck so that one of its reptilian eyes might look at him. It curled its lips and snorted as if to further announce itself.
The dragon could speak.