“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.”
A bundle of customers and staff at the Knight and the Knave gathered around Kenneth Silverbrand’s table, frozen in anticipation while he paused to nurse his third mug of ale. What began as a simple interview of one of the most experienced and revered adventurers of all of Blesia had evolved into a rousing performance of heroic feats.
And his onlookers here, in his favorite tavern, at his favorite table, were in for a real treat. They observed his every move and sound, from his furrowed brow to the consternation in his voice, from the precipitation sprinkled on his forehead to his fingers marching up and down the blade of his unsheathed dagger on the table; all except the smirk obscured by the lip of his cup. He had them hooked for sure.
The valley he mentioned was of course Dalur Raspos, hidden behind a dangerous mountain range and an even more treacherous desert spanning hundreds of miles in length. This prehistoric gorge was once home to species of giants and dragons who had all ceased to exist several millennia ago. Nowadays, the few who make it there are only the most hardened explorers in search of foregone relics, or spellcasters seeking ancient arcane knowledge.
Of course, anyone could have learned about this in any textbook in an adolescent’s schoolhouse. His listeners weren’t there for the stories so easily found in your run-of-the-mill history books. And Kenneth knew exactly what kind of tale would knock their boots off.
Kenneth twirled his mug slowly, pensively, as he eyed his interviewer across from him, a man named George Quill, a writer for the largest newspaper in the capital. He was in his early 70s, with two long silver mutton chops stretching down to the edges of his chin and barely a dozen strands of hair on his head. He sat hunched and moved slowly. A small bottle of black ink, a piece of parchment, and a worn feather-pen rested on his end of the table, but the writer’s hands were clasped together in his lap, just as they had been since the interview started half an hour ago.
“Mr. Silverbrand, what’s-”
“Please,” the adventurer lifted his hand off of his dagger while pulling his mug closer with the other, “call me Kenneth.” He flashed a smile to his listeners.
George smiled. Kenneth tilted his head, smiling back. “Of course. Kenneth, what’s this about dragons in the Valley? I thought they were extinct.”
Kenneth shifted in his seat, inhaled slowly, and clicked his tongue, doing everything he could think of to let his audience know that he was about to take them on an odyssey of epic proportions. Some of the onlookers leaned forward ever so slightly. “Right, I did mention dragons, didn’t I? And dragons there were. Dalur Raspos is not the abandoned paradise it used to be.”
“And why do you say that?”
“Well, because I just arrived from there but a week ago!”
“Is that so? And how long were you there?”
“I was there four days, but four days were all I needed.”
“Four days and alive to tell about it?”
Kenneth shrugged and flashed that famous smile which had won so many hearts throughout his career. “In the flesh, though some of it was left in that cursed place.” Some chuckled, others gasped, softly though as not to miss a single word.
George picked up the pen and dipped it in his inkwell. “Well,” he said with a gesture, “your latest journey is what I and all of your admirers here are hoping to hear about. So, please, when you’re ready, enlighten us. I for one cannot wait to put this out to all of my readers. If you weren’t already famous enough, I have a feeling you might be reaching superstardom.”
Kenneth’s eyes grew wide for only a split second before he resumed his calm demeanor, but just long enough for George to notice. Now he was the one smirking while he jotted down Kenneth’s full name and occupation on his parchment.
Kenneth drew a wearisome breath and folded his arms before he began: “The trip south to the mountains was simple enough. I dispatched of a tribe of goblins which had ventured a little too far east and were menacing a local hamlet along the main highway. The townsfolk were so thankful, but I refused any offer of payment or other reward” - he raised his eyebrows and shrugged, which garnered a few more chuckles from some of the younger men in his audience - “and I continued on my way.”
“Goblins outside of the Uchar Plains?” George interjected. “That’s highly unusual.”
Kenneth snickered. “I thought it strange too. Yet once my blade fell upon them, they might have wished they’d stayed in their hovels.” He deftly flipped the dagger from the table into his hand, blade angled downward, and stabbed it into the table. “The rest of the journey southbound was stunning. To watch the sun descend behind the hills near Caer Morrus and rise over the wide forests to the east was breathtaking, to say the least.”
Kenneth sighed and gulped down the last of his drink. He rapped his knuckles next to the mug twice, and one of the staff in attendance nervously reached for it over a few other audience members and rushed off to the tavern’s kitchen.
“I eventually made it to a mining outpost near the base of Uthion’s Spine, the first major checkpoint on my journey into Dalur Raspos. It was here I enlisted the help of one of the local mountaineers, a boisterous and rowdy dwarf named Nuraghil. He knew those mountains like the back of his hand. He told me that his ancestors had carved the first mines into that range and established some of the original underground strongholds of old. He had become a miner at this outpost in hopes of uncovering his ancestral home, yet he had come up short so far!”
It was at this point the same tavern employee returned with a fresh mug of ale, which Kenneth promptly brought to his lips. He swallowed sizable gulps of the brew as if he had not touched the stuff for ages and had longed for it every day.
“Excuse me while I moisten my vocal chords. It’s a long tale I’m recalling for you, and I wouldn’t want to lose my voice and stop halfway!” The audience pleaded with him to continue and some even placed their own drinks on the table. Kenneth smiled a giant smile and looked as if he might hug his listeners. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly - but only if you all insist.”
“I’d say you’ve moistened up enough, Mr. Silverbrand.”
“Kenneth.” The name came between sips.
George chuckled and underlined the word “Kenneth” on his paper. “Of course. Now, Kenneth, we wouldn’t want you to consume too much and lose your memory of your journey before its satisfying conclusion, now would we?” The onlookers’ soft declinations were enough for Kenneth to swiftly set his mug down, a mere quarter of it left now, and wipe some froth off his beard.
“Right, yes, of course,” he sighed, “where was I?”
“Nuraghil and the mining outpost.”
“Ah! Nuraghil, that hilarious scoundrel. He was my ticket through Uthion’s Spine and I could not have been happier. We shared many a night in the bowels of those mountains sharing tales of our own adventures. For instance, I told him of the time I sailed across the sea with a party of wood elf rangers to slay a torment of ogres that had moved into the Isles of Yhendorin. He regaled me with countless tales of excavations in the dunes south of Uthion’s Spine where he’d uncovered hosts of pottery and texts dating back to the Elemental Age. There was never a dull moment.”
“And what of these dragons you told us about?” George remarked.
“Don’t you rush me,” Kenneth wiggled a finger playfully at George and smiled at the crowd. “I can’t just jump to the climax of it all, I have to lead you to it, guide you there. Unless you want half a story to give to your readers, which would only hurt you, I would assume.” The facade of innocent concern for George’s reputation was enough for the audience, but George was not so easily swayed.
“Good sir, I don’t mean to offend, but there’s no need to worry about my readership or reputation. They are both in good hands. Please, continue.”
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“Right-o.” Kenneth downed the last of his fourth helping of ale. “Eventually, Nuraghil and I ascended from the tunnels beneath the sprawling mountains guarding our precious lands from the harsh and unforgiving sand dunes of the Bogrum Expanse. Nuraghil and I parted ways, regrettably, as I wished then as I do now that I could have remained his traveling partner and he mine. Nevertheless, he returned to his outpost while my mettle was tested by the ever shifting sands.I climbed dune after treacherous dune, and I neared total bodily collapse a dozen times. If it had not been for the cooler evenings and the clear starry nights to which I looked to guide my way, I would have been consumed by the dunes for sure.
“Yet I prevailed. I trudged southward, my only rests being found in the shade of a tall dune. At long last, after nearly a week of suffering some of the worst heat exhaustion I’d ever faced, I emerged from the Bogrum Expanse with my life. This accomplishment in and of itself was enough to bolster my spirits and extend my energy. At long last, I had arrived in Dalur Raspos.”
“At long last indeed,” George sighed. “Now, Mr. Silver- I mean, Kenneth, your journey up to this point must have taken upwards of two weeks, is that the case?”
“That, if not more. The desert proved more tasking than even I had expected.”
“If that’s the case, then you mean to infer that you were carrying enough supplies-food, water, camping equipment, navigational instruments, weapons, other tools-all by yourself?”
“Well,” Kenneth exhaled sharply and shifted again in his seat. Was that nervousness George was picking up? “Nuraghil helped to foot some of my load.”
“Would he not have had to carry his own supplies? I surely hope you paid your friend enough to shoulder not only his only pack but also some of yours.”
“Well, he-he insisted. A testament to my dear friend’s humble spirit.” Kenneth leaned back in his seat and lifted his shoulders, as if he had won some contest. George simply returned the tip of his pen to his notes and gestured for Kenneth to continue once again. “At any rate, Dalur Raspos was, in a word, sensational. It’s untouched by modern civilization and somehow protected from its neighbors’ harsh environments. Verdant forests and crystal clear lakes and rivers dot its surface for as far as the eye can see. I myself set up my campsite in a clearing within a patch of woods where a small pond lay unmolested. I took my first bath in nearly two weeks there!
“The next day was spent exploring, as well as the next two. I must have hiked two dozen miles each day, carving my way through dormant patches of woods and across lush fields of wildflowers. It was so beautiful and peaceful that I’d had half a mind to follow in the footsteps of those who’d come here before me and simply never return to civilized life. But that dream was dashed on my fourth day in the Valley.”
“Is this when the dragons appeared?” George asked, crossing his arms.
A twinge of exasperation flashed across Kenneth’s eyes as he glared at his interviewer. “Will you let me tell my story how I would like to tell it? You’re ruining the experience!”
George only shrugged. “My apologies, it’s your show.”
“Thank you. One more interruption from you, Mr. Quill, and-”
“Please, call me George.”
Kenneth exhaled slowly and through gritted teeth and scratched at cheek. “George, one more interruption - from this moment on! - and this interview is over.”
“My apologies.” He motioned to Kenneth to carry on.
“As I was saying, on my fourth day in Dalur Raspos, I heard from beyond foothills to the southeast what sounded like thunder, yet no storm clouds could be seen on the horizon. I stayed close to my camp, keeping an eye on the sky. The thunder seemed to be getting closer and closer as high noon came and went. As evening approached, the sounds of thunder had turned into crashes of lightning, yet no light erupted in the sky. And then, as I live and breathe today, on the horizon, blacked out by the sun behind it, a dragon appeared. It let out a roar that shook me to my core, reverberating within me.
“It was an awesome yet dreadful sight to behold. Even at such a distance as it was to me, I could tell that its wingspan could easily have extended beyond forty feet in length. It soared through the heavens, basking in the warmth of the setting sun at its back, and it was coming for me. I don’t know how or why it spotted me, but it descended on me faster than a high priest can recite the three commandments of Menorith.
“The earth shook with tremendous force when it landed, and dirt and grass was spewed up into the air with every raking step. It pursued me into the forest, and I reconnected with my campsite in time to grab my weapons and prepare myself for the fight of my life. I was at an advantage, I think, because of the trees. They were thick at the base and heftier than our northern birch and pines. These trees in Dalur Raspos held this dragon at bay just enough for me to land some key blows. I found its weak points quickly. While most of its body was covered in giant scales tougher than any adamantine I’d ever seen, there were specific points along its underside that were covered in soft flesh, which is where my blades found purchase.
“Soon enough, after dueling this beast for what felt like ages, dodging his bites and claw swipes left and right, the dragon reared back for what I could only assume was its breath attack. A dim light illuminated from within its belly, shining through its flesh as its head lifted up above the trees, preparing to rain hellfire down upon me. I knew the flesh was weak to my blade, and he had left it momentarily open. If I did not take my chance, I would no doubt be incinerated in its fiery blast. So I lunged for its underbelly, where its molten salvo was brewing, and plunged my blade all the way to the hilt. The beast let out a terrible bellow as the inferno within melted my blade in the blink of an eye and its organs, incandescent and putrid, spilled onto the ground. It dropped its head with a loud crash, narrowly missing me as I dived out of the way at the last moment. Before it had breathed its last, though, it let out one more shrill howl, and then life left its eyes.
“I sat there, stunned, breathless, my heart beating so terrifically that it might have popped out of my chest. I hardly had enough time to catch my breath and collect myself before more thunder echoed in the distance. This time, though, it sounded as if a chorus of dragons were shrieking. This dragon I’d slain had called for its brethren with its death cry. I hurriedly packed my things and raced to the mouth of Dalur Raspos, escaping to the dunes, which seemed like a welcome refuge compared to the hell I had just encountered. I lumbered tirelessly once more across the Bogrum Expanse and, beaten and emaciated and nearing death, I had made it across Uthion’s Spine, back to my home. And my only wish, throughout all of this, is that I’d had enough time to bring back spoils of my victory over this beast of old.”
There was but a moment of silence before Kenneth’s audience erupted in cheers and applause. Kenneth appeared exhausted for even having just told the story, and he was now guzzling down the donated drinks while showered with admiration from his followers. Cheering echoed throughout the tavern until only George’s hands were clapping. Kenneth slowly turned his attention away from his fans toward his interviewer.
“So,” Kenneth cleared his throat and clasped his hands on the table expectantly, “how was that, George? Do you think your readers will enjoy that?”
“I’m sure they would, Kenneth,” George replied as he started putting his writing utensils away in a small pouch at his side, “if there hadn’t been so many inconsistencies in your retelling.”
Kenneth was taken aback, and gazed back at George with an incredulous look. “Ah, what … What the hell do you mean, George?”
“I mean your story doesn’t hold much water as far as validity is concerned.”
“How would you know?”
“Well, for starters, there’s not even a single eyewitness to corroborate your story. I was hoping at least Nuraghil would have been there to see it all happen.”
“Going any further than the edge of Uthion’s Spine was above his pay grade and simply out of my price range.”
“Of course. And what of my earlier concern, about you lugging nearly seventy pounds of equipment through deadly weather conditions?”
“I am in a league of my own when it comes to feats of strength and endurance. Any of my followers can explain that to you.”
George looked to the audience members, each of whom had fallen eerily quiet. George wondered if they had ever witnessed Kenneth being questioned by a critic. “And so I come to my third and final inquiry. If there had truly been as many dragons as you have claimed, where are they now? Would they not have made it this far north long before you returned home to report your journey? And if they are as dangerous as you say, have you made the necessary reports to the Coalition and to the Guard?”
“I … Not yet, no, but you know how the Coalition is, it takes forever to even earn a meeting. And as for the Guard, they’re notoriously unenthusiastic and corrupt. They’d never believe me, even if I came to them with burn marks all over my body. At any rate, is it not your job to simply record what I tell you and print it in your paper? You’re not an investigator, you’re not an adventurer. Hell, you’re barely even a writer. You’ve hardly taken any notes this entire session. How the hell are you going to write anything now?”
“Worry not, Kenneth Silverbrand, I’m known for my memory.”
“And I shall be known for being the first to slay a dragon in thousands of years, and I want that recorded, do you understand me?”
George sighed. “I’m afraid I simply cannot do that now.”
Kenneth shot up from the table, knocking over a couple of empty tankards and shoving a few of his fans onto the ground.. “Excuse me?” he exclaimed.
George remained seated. “Well, Kenneth, I must admit, I have not been entirely truthful with you. I did not invite you here to listen to your story of slaying a dragon so that I might write an article about it for tomorrow’s paper. In fact, I’m not a writer at all.”
A stoic look of betrayal covered Kenneth’s face. His fists clenched and his body tensed.
George continued, “I do have my own set of followers, however. We consider ourselves to be, among many things, historians of the old times, and experts on the goings-on of dragons. And I can assure you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the claims you are making in your story are grossly exaggerated and gravely disrespectful.”
“What are you saying?”
“The crux of the matter is this: your belief that the dragons are returning is misguided.”
“And how would you know?”
“Because we’re already here.”
The first part of George Quill’s body to morph was his torso, which expanded so rapidly that his tunic and jacket tore as if ripping a parchment in two. His legs followed suit, and then his arms. His head bubbled and burst open, revealing a growing beastly skull taking on new flesh and then scales. His entire body, in a grotesque display of cracking bones and tearing skin, shapeshifted into that of a monstrous dragon. Tables and benches and even some unfortunate tavern patrons were crushed under the weight of this leviathan’s weight, spewing splinters of wood and splashes of blood and guts across the floor and walls.
The dragon towered over Kenneth, who remained motionless, stunned, trembling, while the tavern was quickly evacuated. Kenneth gulped in a dry mouth as the dragon spoke.
“Behold, I am Parcivexus, scourge of ancients, devourer of flesh and bone, champion of dragonkind, and deliverer of death. I have made myself known at this hour for this reason: to inform mankind, elvenkind, dwarfkind, and otherwise that the age of dragons has returned, and you are too late. As for you, Kenneth Silverbrand, bearer of false testimony, I shall claim your life as my first of many!”
And truly for the first time, Kenneth Silverbrand watched as a yellow light illuminated in this ancient monstrosity’s abdomen. It grew bigger and brighter until it traveled up Parcivexus’ throat and a bright light could be seen in the back of the dragon’s mouth. Kenneth opened his own mouth to cry out, but before a single noise could be uttered, he was bathed in a torrid inferno ejected from the monster’s maw. The fire blast spread across the entire tavern until the whole establishment was ablaze.
Parcivexus leaned back on his hind legs and exploded out of the top of the tavern, launching himself high into the air and hovering over the capital streets, watching thousands of panicked citizens fruitlessly attempting to escape what would become the first of many exterminations in this new age of dragons.
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TO BE CONTINUED . . .