‘Welcome back to the Cat’s Scratch Pub and Inn. As you know my name is Dolan and I’ll be continuing our tale tonight.’
It seemed even more people were here tonight and the owner set out tables on the grounds outside the front doors. To make sure their stay was worth it I would use a little magic to carry my voice just a little further. Another tall pint of wheat beer sat on the stool I usually sat upon as I shook hands and accepted a few more coins for my performance. The air was thick with pipe smoke and the smell of alcohol. Having made my rounds I sat back down. I strummed and the pub grew silent. ‘Listen well my patrons.’
Our hero stared down at the tiny dragon amazed. Such creatures were beyond rare, their powers and abilities lost to history. Gently he picked up the coins he clung to and placed them gently on the table. He notes the dragon was hard as diamonds and struggled against his grip.
Gently he picked up the ancient body and carried it to the bed. He lay her down and pulled the crown from her head. Temptation to take it to sell was there but he didn’t want tempt fate. He placed her hands over it upon her stomach and left her there.
The call was not over. He had to heed the words of Sondet. The hero padded his empty coin pouch and sighed. At least it would be empty to hold the dragon safely. Its eyes tracked him as he approached and it let out a whispering hiss. “I’ll keep you safe and find how we can help you.” Grabbing the coins and not the dragon he placed them all in his pouch and tied it shut for safekeeping.
He ate the last of his dried rations and dropped some crumbs in his pouch. Running his hands through his hair he prepared to try and find his way back through the twisting hallways. Using a flint he struck up a torch as the light grew dim through the windows. Without the pull that had guided him he grew disoriented as he tried to return. Using the bodies of the fallen as guide markers helped little.
It was deep into the night when he found himself back in the main hall that had the fallen corpses of dozens of soldiers. The sight saddened him and he decided to check on his charge. Opening the pouch showed him that the crumbs had not been touched and the creature was wrapped tightly around his copper bits. He carefully made his way down to the entrance and a moonless night greeted him. Everything was inky black with impenetrable shadows. The sounds of rustling in the bushes startled our hero.
Coming out of the shadows was a great feline beast. It moved like liquid death as it approached. The hero pulled free his sword and looked at the monster. Suddenly it relaxed and sat down looking deeply into the adventurer’s eyes. A deep rumbling purr began to thrum through the air.
With great caution the hero sheathed his blade and approached the beast. Kneeling he reached out offering his hands. The beast rubbed against it and curled around him slowly. “What in the hells are you? Never met such a friendly wild cat.” That was when his fingers caught in a thick leather collar. Something jingled upon it and the hero paused. “Ah, you’re not wild. Is your home nearby? I could do with a real place to rest.”
The luminous eyes blinked slowly at him before it flicked its tail and began to lead him from the path. Guided by the strange creature and his own torchlight the hero pushed through the thick brush. It was difficult to follow something that moved with such grace and it often paused waiting for him to catch up. They walked past many decrepit servants quarters and soon came upon a broken wall. Deep in the far darkness of the wood flickered candlelight. Intrigued, the hero began walking towards it. The great feline fell to his side content on the path they were taking.
A hut of wood and mud came into view, crude planks of wood acted as shutters to the oddly shaped windows. A door carved with strange sigils lay in front of it. The cat walked straight to it and scratched at it.
“What the bloody hells are you doing Sebastian. You know that when you leave I won’t let you in for the night!” An angry shrill voice called.
The hero cleared his throat, “I think he is scratching for me.”
A clatter of a chair and the voice was suddenly much softer, “Oh a visitor. Just a moment I’ll be right there.”
Sebastian the cat walked off into the darkness and looked back but a single time measuring the hero. Then he melted into the shadows.
The door creaked after several minutes and a young woman looked out at the hero. Her hair shone red in the light of the torch and candle as she looked the hero up and down. Her vibrant green eyes met his, “Who might you be traveler?”
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“I’m but a humble merchant answering the call of Sondet. Please if I can have some shelter to rest properly I’ll give you what I can.”
The woman gazed at his torn and tattered gear. “What happened to you?”
He told her of the town full of ghosts and how he had angered them by attempting to put them to rest. Her eyes grew large.
“You were foolish enough to do it inside that place. My grandmother worked her whole life trying to do the same from the edges of the city.” She opened the door wider. “You best tell your story to Nana so she can rest knowing our family’s work has been done.”
The hero put out his torch and stepped into the hut. Primitive chairs sat around a stove of stones and mud. Three cots lined the wall and an ancient crone of a woman lay upon it. Her milky eyes staring off into the distance.
“Go on, I’ll put in a pot of stew for us all.” The young woman started busying herself by the stove and the hero pulled a chair to the old woman’s bedside.
He told her of his journey into the city, how he was called by a god to come across this place and only saw it to be right to try and put the souls to rest. Slowly her eyes brightened and she began looking at the hero. A soft smile grew as he spoke of the Terus. Tears flowed down her withered cheeks and she reached out a wizened hand. The hero took it gently.
Her voice was like the rasp of papers rubbing together. “My mother was called to his place by Terus, he asked our line to try and put the souls to rest. None of us have survived going inside for it seemed the souls knew of our purpose. We have done our best to soothe their anger so we may attempt once more. But you, you helped us finish the call. We can return once more from this blighted land.” She squeezed his hand with her bony fingers. “Is there anything besides shelter we can do for you?”
A thought crossed our hero’s mind. “Do you know anything about dragons? Any information will do.”
The old woman squinted and seemed deep in thought, “There was an ancient tale that my mother told me. I’ll tell it to you in thanks. Help me to sit so I don’t fall asleep.”
Gently the hero helped her sit up and lean back against the wall. She ate one of the small bowls of stew that was handed out and sighed happily.
The young woman spoke, “I’ve not seen her this lively in weeks. Thank you so much for helping her.”
The hero spoke, “Terribly rude of me, what are your names?”
“We are the ladies Murdoch, that’s Nana Sally, I’m Heather.” She placed a warm hand upon my knee and squeezed, “get out of your torn leathers and I’ll mend them while nana tells you what you’ve asked.”
Stripped down to his bare chest, young Heather took the torn clothes and leather to see to mending them. Quiet fell across the cabin except for the crackling of wood and whisper of thread.
Nana Sally, her voice more lively than it had been for years, “Dragons have existed since we were in caves. They say the first dragon spun tales to the children and was no bigger than ol Sebastian. It is said that dragons can’t breed with one another, for they are the gifts from the gods. Said to come to this world to honor those that made them. Each bore a sacred treasure they called a collection. The more grand it was, the more powerful the dragon was. Some of the dragons chose to rule over kingdoms, some lived in obscurity living quietly on the edges of civilization. None know why the gods brought them to life. They have never told the world their true purpose besides growing their collections and power.” Sally chest was heavy with the sudden burst of talking, she smiled and sighed, “That is all I know young man. Will it help?”
The merchant smiled and nodded. “Thank you, you’ve all been so kind.”
That night Nana Sally passed away peacefully in her sleep. The hero took the time to help bury her with Heather. They spent nights in each other's arms to soothe her heartache. She taught the hero how to hunt and capture small game to survive in the wild without the guidance of a god. One morning his clothes were fully mended and ready to wear.
“You could come with me, I can bring you back to the rest of the world,” offered our hero.
Heather shook her head, “My mother should return soon from her trip for supplies. I’ll talk with her about our return to any town we could.”
They shared a hug and parted ways with bittersweet feelings. Pack in place and an idea on what to do he headed off. He touched the sling she had given him to hunt with and nodded. He would need to collect furs on the way back.
The days grew long and he captured and survived off the land. The dragon always seemed to be fine just clutching onto his coins and being left alone. When he made it back to a small collection of hovels he was able to trade the furs he had harvested for a handful of bits and one tin pence. Hidden away from sight the merchant crouched and placed the dragon down and offered him another bit. As he clutched it the dragon grew a third more of his size. He handed another and it grew once more. As he handed him his fifth bit something miraculous happened. The dragon piled them and let out a tiny puff of a breath and the bits melded into a tin pence. With that he grew to the size of an open palm.
Amazed, the merchant knew what he had to do to listen to the call of Sondet.
‘That is our tale for this evening. There will be one more story about the life of the Two Bit Dragon. I thank you all for coming and giving me your spare coin.’ I said.
I felt a happy buzz from the strong liquor a patron had bought me and smiled warmly at Gertrude the barmaid. That night I lay with her and listened to her wish for a son to inherit the pub and continue the family line as I pretended to sleep. I hoped for her sake it would and smiled in the warm blankets.