10 An Old Acquaintance
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Excerpt from the Darkened Chronicle - He never wanted worship, but who could blame those that did so? Someone can only accomplish so many feats before they are a hero, only so many miracles before they are a god.
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After four days, the plants shriveled in the surrounding forest. There controller died along with them, like a hive with no queen. With the threat eliminated, we traveled for several days before making it back to Dresdel.
Of course my deal with the Arcanum twisted a bit, but with Charlie’s testimony, I’d be allowed in regardless. In my eyes, I couldn’t imagine them saying no to a dragonslayer.
The day was clear and sunny with crisp cold in the air. The city’s silence helped from the church’s meeting that morning. It rained the day before I arrived, so puddles littered around like stray dogs. As I paced into town, the giant dragon skull dug a trench in the dirt behind me. Tall and ominous, I stepped in, lumbering like a giant.
The townsfolk stopped and stared as I passed. A few followed behind as I strode up to the city’s center, their own cathedral. Though embarrassment coursed in me with its sharp sting, I kept composure. I needed this petty ceremony’s success. Without it, I may end up killing the dragon without any recognition from the powers that mattered.
You would imagine that the royal family held sway in Bastion, and they did, but not like the church. The worship of Gaia clasped onto power like a python, squeezing the very life from it. If you wanted gold, the duke could give it to you, but power, prestige, influence? That rested with bishops and priests. The duke could moved a mountain of money, but the pontifex could give you the good graces of the people.
That is what I needed, not a shiny, soft metal.
So I walked in dark hydra skin, pacing into the church without a word. Higher than hills, the stained windows all pointed in a circle with an altar at the center. The gray stone cooled my feet and midday sun leaked in through stained windows. On these windows were pictures of a gentle mother giving bread to children, of thunder striking seas, of a hand rasing mountains. Smells of old books and sage floated like fairies on wind.
Marvelous as it was, the beauty gave way to brutality. The cedar pews arranged in a semi-circle around a blood stained altar. Unlike newer towns, Dresdel had kept to the olden ways of sacrifice. You’d imagine that civilization would of abandoned these primal needs by then, but no. Lingering pieces of the past scattered about like broken glass, cutting anyone who’d dare pick them up.
Behind this alter stood a tree of stone. Carved with care, a slither of alexandrite sat upon it's center, charged with sacrifices. It was just as Sophia said. This church upheld the olden ways. The idea of enforcing these practice ate at me, but I did what needed to be done. I laid the skull upon the pedestal with a gentle and deliberate slowness. The congregation glanced in amazement before I leaned on one knee, right as the sun passed overhead. From a window above, a beam of light came down upon me as I leaned down.
In legends, heroes would give the souls of dragons to Gaia. In return, she'd enchant their gem with her power. The first emperor of Bastion did so, and he wore the amulet till the day he died. Creating one of my own would garantee my sainthood.
With this in mind and hoping I looked as holy as planned, I channeled the dragon's soul from the palm of my hand and into the alexandrite. Just as foretold in legends, the slither grew wider, turning to crimson. Bright as dragon's blood, it glowed before I lifted myself from one knee and said, “For Gaia, I give. For Gaia, I go.”
As I turned to walk away, the bishop walked closer to the skull before saying, “Did...did you do this?”
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I turned around as I said, “Yes, father.”
“This...this is the head of a dragon. A real dragon’s head?”
I nodded before he said, “Why do you bring this here?”
I frowned as I said, “I’ve seen Gaia in my dreams. She spoke of a dragon killing her children. I went to save them. Now I am here to give a sacrifice in her name.”
The priest raised his hands and said, “We had heard of the dragon to the North. We would have sent help of our own if we could spare it. I hadn’t believed it though, that Aesoth turned.”
I raised an eyebrow and asked, “What? Aesoth?”
The bishop frowned as he said, “Wait, you didn’t know who or what the dragon was?”
I shook my head as I said, “I never needed to. I followed Gaia’s words. I hold absolute faith.”
The bishop deepened his frown into a scowl as he said, “Well then. I suppose you deserve something for your service then, is that it?”
I grinned as I said, “I’ve already received my gift.”
I turned, walking out of the church as the crowd murmured. Several spoke loud enough to hear,
“A dragon? They're real?”
“The bishop didn’t sound very thankful did he?”
“I can’t believe he’d let him walk out empty handed like that.”
The bishop bit his fingernail before saying, “What is your name?”
I turned my head as I said, “I am Jericho.”
“The people will know of your deeds and of your name.”
I nodded before saying, “Thank you, father. Have a blessed day. Long live Dresdel. Long live Gaia.”
As I reached the door, a child grabbed the edge of my sheath I wore expressly for the event. With eyes full of wonder and curiosity, he said, “Would you please tell me your story sir?”
I grinned and said, “Gladly.”
The tale seemed unbelievable, but whenever they glanced at the giant dragon head I dragged in, all skepticism died. Charlie crept in, carrying a portion of athe dead plant with her. She hid the piece until the opportune moment for revealing the evidence during the telling of the tall tale.
In honor of my deeds, the bishop of the church knighted me the following morning, and after soaking in the spotlight for a few days, Deluge handled our deal with the Arcanum.
And I did so with care. After waiting for nightfall, I hid until I reached the inn. Difficult, but I managed. I paced through the doors without the guard’s interruption. Of course, Charlie followed me like a leech.
She grinned while injecting every ounce of annoying she could into the expression. I hated her deeply, but the other’s respected her now and her ribs no longer bothered her as much, she often spoke with me during nights. Far more than I would like in fact.
The wrath she caused proved useful, however. I’m sure the emotion showed on my face as I walked through the inn before walking down the same steps. Of course, the guards treated me like a lumbering monster in their midst. The bottom two steps broke as I stepped down. Charlie laughed until tears poured through her eyes, but no one else let so much as a smirk trace their lips. They feared me, as they should.
By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, the pathetic boss opened the door and revealed another man standing. A black cloak covered his body and hooded his head. The man’s broad shoulders contrasted the limp weakness of the spindly boss of before. From beneath the cloak, scars traced his fingers, telling me much of his past. This man bathed in battle and blood and pain.
A gray beard jutted from under his hood, but I couldn’t shake a sense of nostalgia. This ominous man stood beside the thin boned boss of this branch. In his nasally voice, Phil said, "Here is the leader of the Arcanum. He created this organization from the ground up. He's come here to welcome you into our higher echelons. I hope your happy."
As I walked beside him, I breathed a deep lungful of air, and his scent revealed who he was. You see, long ago I had snuck into the storage area of Mareovosa’s gems. Whenever I arrived, I fell into a trap before fighting against a master gemchainer. He was an old man, but his skills had sharpened over the years instead of dulling. He summoned swords of light and used lightning strikes. He was a worthy adversary.
I respected him, and in front of me stood he, Galen Huxley. The grandfather of Joan and founder of the Arcanum. I said,
"We're well aquainted. Isn't that right?"
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