I stood outside the town. My pack nearly empty as the night descended. I heard my pursuer long before I saw him standing in the middle of the road.

He was clad in ruby red leathers with a veil across his nose and mouth. Two long pointed ears curled behind his head. His eyes were lavender and full of cold malice. In one hand he clutched a blade so black it would be invisible on a moonless night. His voice spoke of violence and death, “I’ve found you. Yet another dragon left hiding in this world. Tell me your name and I’ll make it swift.”

I placed my pack, and lute upon the ground and took a step back, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Dolan, I’m a simple bard making my way through the world.” I raised my hands showing them to be empty and me harmless.

The assassin shook his head lightly, “I’ve followed the marks you leave. An ancient set of runes lost to the world, ones of Magic when it should have been lost for centuries. Only a dragon or elf would live that long. And you’re no elf.” The man lowered himself, coiling to pounce, “The order of the blood hunt has found you. Surrender now.”

I let a deep sigh slip from me, “Maybe a single member found me. Yet I hear no back up, no one to support you in this fight. You’re putting a lot of faith in your strength.”

“Your collection must be small enough to be on your person. That makes you weak and easily killed. I trust my chances.” He bolted at me lightning fast with a thrust of his blade to my heart. He was not fast enough.

Within the blink of an eye I held him by one wrist crushing his bones to powder as the other clamped over his mouth muffling his screams. His eyes rolled in agony as he cried against my hand. He fell to his knees before me. I kicked the blade away from us both and stared down at him balefully. “You are not wrong. The collection is a dragon’s greatest strength and biggest weakness. Like the tale of The Profitable. They taxed him, charged him for the food and board of his charges until he was weak. You mortals stripped him to nothing.” I forced his eyes to look at me, “did you know I was the one who found him when he was but an infant. I was the merchant, one of a thousand lifetimes I’ve lived.” His screams grew silent as shock set in. I moved my hand to his throat and held it.

“What, what are you? Where is your collection?” He pleaded, trying to make sense of his plight.

“I am the Weaver of Tales! I was born with the first story in this world. A whispered warning of an ancient hunting beast that was eating the prehistoric cave dwelling people. My collection is tales, stories told between people. Every tale ever remembered to this day adds to my strength. I sang the first lullaby to children and it has been adapted a thousand times to what mothers sing to their babes. It was a story to soothe the fear your ancestors felt. Every song still sung is a drop of strength for me if I learn it.” I lifted him off his feet and he choked at the strain of his weight on his neck. One good arm gripped and pulled trying to free himself.

“Impossible, that would make you one of the first,” his words were garbled.

“Now I’m the last. Tell me a story, young one. Tell me of the dragons you slew,” I pierced him with my glare.

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“No…. It’ll only make you stronger.” I squeezed and he choked more. Struggling against my strength.

“Do it and I’ll make your death painless” I could feel his tears dropping on my hand. He nodded sobbing, I lowered him back to his knees. “Now tell me what happened.”

His voice was a harsh whisper as he spoke, “The blood hunt has felled one dragon. She was named Seamstress. She was in the far east. She wove the softest silks in the world. She collected every type of cloth she could. She began to steal to get the most secretive of them. Before replicating and giving it out to the people that followed her.” For a moment he struggled against my grip. With a violent shake he continued, “We kidnapped her favorite follower. An ancient crone of a dwarf that had served her for a hundred years. Ten of our dozen men stole her away. The others lay in wait at her palace. When she flew off they put her home to the torch. Burning away her collection. She fought me and nine of my peers as she weakened. We drove her blind with fury by killing the dwarf. Then as all but the sash she wore from her collection burned away she collapsed and…. Please I beg you to spare my life.”

I frowned at him before demanding, “Finish the story.” I laced magic into those words to compel him.

“The Seamstress begged, asking for mercy. We didn’t listen and cut into her until she fell apart into a collection of ribbons and unwound bolts of cloth. We used it to make our outfits for the last few centuries. I’m sorry.” Snot flowed from his nose as he sobbed in pain. “That was the last dragon we found. I swear it.”

A deep ancient anger I thought gone forever boiled to the surface, “I’ve raised half the dragons that have come to the world. We are gifts from the gods to protect you. We have saved your puny existence a dozen fold over history from threats unfathomable.” I felt a hot tear of my own go down my cheek as my vision blurred. “You have killed my brothers, my sisters and those I cared for like my own children. In my anger I shaped your world. I killed the wizards, burned their libraries to ashes to extinguish magic. I hunted men, women, and children after they slew The Librarian by magically stealing his collection. I have hunted and destroyed a dozen of your dragon slaying cults that have sprung up.” I took a calming breath. “Now I choose to live in peace.”

“You can let me go, I can tell the others not to come for you.” His voice was pitiful now.

I shook my head again, “They won’t listen. Then you’ll tell them my secrets and then the world will be doomed.”

“Doomed?” He asked.

I gazed down at him, “another catastrophe is coming. That’s why I’m going from town to town. I am the last. I will need every bit of strength I can gather.”

“What if I tell the others what is coming?” His pleas continued. “We could help.”

I let go of his throat and arm before placing my hands on his shoulders. “It’s time. Tell me your name and I will make sure your memory lasts as long as I live.”

“Redgrass Stargazer,” he looked at me and I saw the acceptance of what was coming. He knew there was no more negotiating.

I took in a massive breath and pulled from my collection's power. I breathed out a thick roiling dust into his face and across his body. It smelled of ancient campfires, spilt beer coated taverns, a grandmother’s home, a bedside, everywhere where a story is told. As it faded into the wind a long scroll lay wrapped around my hands down to the ground where the man had stood. He was reduced to a story upon a scroll. My greatest weapon, the most gentle death I could give.

I collected it and added it to my pack to read. I picked up my belongings and touched the collection of symbols upon my neck. I had retrieved each from the homes of my fellow dragons after they fell. I remembered sifting through the burnt ashes of the Seamstress’ home to find hers now I knew who was responsible. Staring off into the sky I began to walk again.