I don’t know how long I walked along the underground gut gnawed by the rocktopuses. If, at the very beginning of the long journey, I thought that they gnawed the underground passage at an accelerated pace, then after walking underground for more than one kilometer, I was convinced of the opposite. Rocktopuses are unhurried creatures, and they gnawed the network of underground passages a long time ago. After I requested help, they simply removed the jumper separating the underground corridors from the room in which I happened to spend the night.
Moving behind the stone worm, I stopped very often, since walking alone in pitch darkness in an unknown direction was reckless. Before meeting the rocktopuses, I thought that nothing more dangerous than stone worms lived underground. How wrong I was! One of my guides was eaten by some huge underground creature. A giant mole or a shrew. I barely escaped and thought that the same fate would soon befall me. However, the roctopuses found me very quickly, and we continued moving again. I only had memories of the abundant dinner in Vulgaris’s house. My stomach growled like a volcano about to erupt. I kept up my strength with water from a flask and tried to chew some roots. Tired of the endless march, I said to my guide,
“I need a rest!”
I don’t know how, but the roctopuses understood me and agreed with me. During my journey in Orkvalia, strange events occurred. The servants who decided to feed Vulgaris breakfast were heartbroken: the dragon, swollen from undigested meat, lay lifeless. They had no choice but to leave the ownerless house, leaving the old dragoness Laverna to the care of fate.
Laverna was starving. No one brought her young men anymore, and even the old ones tried not to catch the old lady’s eye for fear of being swallowed. Laverna was left completely alone. She continued to sit motionless since she had no strength left to move. Closing her eyes, the mother of dragons died quietly.
Outside the Dragon’s Lair, the vegetation broke free. The forests were covered in foliage, young trees seemed to have been waiting for this hour. The minimalist artist doused the fields, meadows, mountain slopes, and hills with green paint. Pyronax, seeing what his uncle’s rash decision led to, decided to punish the forest giants. He splashed as much fire as he could on the trees. But he could not burn everything. New vegetation was breaking through the ashes, where the embers were still smoldering. The dead trees fell to the ground, allowing the young plants to stretch upward.
The dragons realized that they had lost this battle and focused on their main tasks: maintaining power over people and searching for the dangerous fugitive. And if they coped with the first task without effort, then to complete the second, they had to sweat quite a bit. They did not even know who exactly they were looking for. Only vague rumors reached them: a man, cunning and dodgy, wielding magic, able to change appearance and hide from the most watchful eyes. He was dangerous because he could not only challenge the dragons but also destroy them if they gave him such an opportunity. The deaths of Vulgaris and Laverna confirmed that this statement was not wrong. Every time the dragons approached the fugitive’s tracks, they found only empty places where magic still hung in the air like fog. They were looking for someone who bore the imprint of ancient spells, knew more than he should have, and had been hiding from their wrath for too long. Rumors circulated among the humans about a mysterious mage who could control the forces of nature and escape any pursuit.
The name “Oris the Dragon Slayer” often came up in their conversations, especially after the tournament in Orkvalia. Those who had once been dragon allies doubted the invulnerability of their masters. But no one could say whether it was Oris, or someone else pulling the threads of ancient intrigues.
Rumors of Oris’ exploits grew with each passing day, and each new story added fuel to the fire of speculation and suspicion. They said that Oris was not just a man, but a true heir to the ancient warriors, capable of confronting dragons and even defeating them. One rumor claimed that Oris had saved a group of mushroom pickers by scaring off a swamp monster about to attack. Other witnesses swore they had seen him single-fight a pack of mountain wolves, killing several of them. Some claimed that he had destroyed the entire pack to the last beast, using powers that an ordinary man could not possess. These stories were passed from mouth to mouth, growing with additional details and exaggerations. Some claimed that Oris possessed mysterious amulets that could protect him from any threat, even from the fire of dragons. In other places, they said that he could change appearance, turning into a harmless old man, and then into a formidable warrior. With each passing day, the dragons’ doubts grew. Could Oris be the fugitive they were searching for? Or was there something more sinister behind these rumors, someone who manipulated fears and suspicions, leaving the dragons in ignorance and vulnerability? There were more and more questions and fewer and fewer answers, and this worried the dragons even more.
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I knew none of this and could not even imagine I was capable of such feats. I followed the stoneworm and dreamed of reaching the surface. The passages varied in size. Sometimes the width and height of the endless stone holes were such that two people standing one on top of the other could not reach the ceiling. Five people lined up in a row would not reach the walls. But sometimes the stone worms had to widen the holes to squeeze in themselves.
Whatever the case, my journey ended. I thought about moving, not even knowing where I would end up. I didn’t care. The first signs of the near-surface appeared in the air. It became easier to breathe, I caught the scent of flowers, green pine needles, and fresh, rain-washed grass. Roctopus slowed down, and crawled into a side corridor, letting me go ahead.
Stepping forward, I felt a hard stone beneath my feet, which gave way to soft earth. A thin ray of light broke through a narrow gap ahead, and with each step, it grew brighter. I could hear the wind rustling the leaves and the singing of birds overhead. My soul, exhausted by the long journey, found peace. But with each breath of fresh air, caution returned to me. I did not know where I was led. If my little translator had been nearby, I would have asked the stoneworm where it was heading.
When I emerged onto the surface, a bright light blinded me. I stood at the edge of the forest, a vast expanse of flowers and life stretched out before me. But I knew that this was a world of deception, where danger could hide behind a mask of beauty. The wind brought me the faint smell of smoke, a reminder that even here, in this tranquility, danger was close.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?!”
Hearing a human voice, I jumped to the side in fear, which caused a friendly laugh. Tarnis, Tush, and his friend Tina looked at me smiling. Centaur Yurion towered behind them.
Our joy knew no bounds. We were together again. There was something to remember and something to tell. Tarnis and the little fluffies had little news. After we parted, they returned to the city and found Yurion and our cart. Then they went to the mountains and found a cave suitable for temporary housing. They hoped I would somehow send a message about myself. The fluffy kids collected mushrooms and berries, and Tarnis hunted. So that there was something to eat. Yurion still enjoyed the solitude.
One day, waking up in the morning, the inhabitants of the cave saw a forest covered with green foliage, grass that had grown overnight.
“This is a sign!” — exclaimed Tush. “Arian is alive and well!”
“Why do you think so?”
“I heard him promise to help the trees. Do you see these leaves? Do you think they grew on their own?”
“You are right, my friend,” Tarnis agreed with the fluffy one. — “If that is so, then we should expect even greater changes.”
“Let’s wait for your friend first, and then think about the changes,” Tina, Tush’s friend, said.