The journey to the dragon clan would take several days, so Devin King packed appropriate supplies for the journey. Or at least he said he did. There was no caravan or supply cart—just Devin King and his word.
“I’ve got it all here!” He patted a leather pouch by his side. “It’s enchanted so I can carry nearly three hundred pounds of stuff! We’ve got plenty!”
They left after a long sleep and a hearty breakfast. As Devin marched through town and the crew followed, the townspeople watched. Their steps crunched across frosty dirt and Devin King swung his arms with every stride. DJ noticed a greatsword lashed across his back—it had to weigh half as much as Devin did.
Can he really wield that? DJ wondered. Then he remembered the guards’ remarks about Devin. Part of him wanted to see the goofy governor in action, but a larger part hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.
They hiked through knee-deep snow all day until Devin noticed a sufficiently large cave to camp in. From out of Devin’s enchanted satchel came firewood, a fire sparker, a bedroll, and cheese. Lots of cheese. Everyone was given their own wheel of cheese for supper. Steve dove in without question, but the others traded questioning glances before nibbling on theirs. They tasted fine, but who carries wheels of cheese on their person?
Twice on their journey, they got caught in blizzards. DJ kept his coat wrapped tight against the snowy assault and followed behind Francis as to not lose sight of him. Snow stuck to his eyelashes and lips and made his entire body tremble. But just ahead of Francis, Devin swung his arms and marched as if he hardly noticed the cold. DJ couldn’t help but marvel during these moments.
After three days of hiking, they arrived at the mouth of an impressive cave. And in the opening, curled up like a sleeping cat, a red-scaled dragon took deep, rumbling breaths. DJ gulped when he saw it. From end to end it had to be eighty feet, and DJ couldn’t look over the top of it even as it slept in the tall snow.
As they approached, the dragon blinked awake. Yellow eyes with black slits focused on them. The dragon stretched and stood to its full height, red scales glistening in the harsh sunlight. Its head rose nearly twenty feet in the air, with a mighty yellow breast and claws that could crush boulders.
DJ shivered as he thought of the heads mounted back home.
“Who approaches?” the dragon rumbled. “Is that you, Dragonspeaker? Who are the other humans?”
“Hi, Kyndyn,” Devin waved. “Yeah, it’s me. These are some recent friends I made. Travelers. Sorry to just swing by unannounced, but I need to speak to Byrekoth. It’s kind of important.”
“Hmm,” Kyndyn rumbled again, taking another stretch. “That is bold, Dragonspeaker. But again, that is why my people have taken to you.” A pause. “You may go. But make it brief. His patience has been thin lately.”
DJ swallowed again as he looked Kyndyn up and down. Devin saluted and strode through the cave’s opening. Once they entered, DJ swore under his breath. They had walked into a sprawling cave, nearly filling the entire mountain. Carriage-sized holes pocked the mountain’s interior, letting snowy sunlight stream inside. The light illuminated piles of gold and jewels that dragons treated like nests. On rocky lips and ledges, more dragons rested, but lifted their heads when they heard the humans approach. Their golden nests jingled beneath them as they shifted.
The entire cave smelled of soot. In the middle of the expanse, a mound of bones reached dozens of feet high—picked clean of any meat or marrow. Some of the bones were of considerable size. Some weren’t. DJ wondered if there were any human bones in there, and the thought made his teeth chatter.
A chorus of deep rumbling sounded as dragons eyed the visitors and whispered to one another. On the opposite side of the cave, a red dragon bigger than all the rest lifted its head. His pile of gold was the largest, and he was flanked by dragons of similar sizes. When the visitors approached, the large dragons got up, stretched, and prowled around the group like tigers, tails swishing, claws stomping along the stone.
Next to the largest dragon was a nearly identical dragon of smaller size—only thirty feet long, with eyes a little too big for its head. But those yellow eyes had a dash of worry in them as Devin King approached. The small dragon sat up stiffly and tucked in its wings, trying to look confident but failing miserably. Curiously, the dragon was missing half of a horn on the right side of its skull.
That’s gotta be Albyrt, DJ thought. And he looks very guilty.
“Dragonspeaker,” the great dragon said, its voice echoing through the cave. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Hi, King Byrekoth!” Devin’s tone was unworried. He gave a polite bow. “Oh, you know, just passing through and thought I’d stop by!” A chuckle. “Just kidding. Took us days to get here.”
Byrekoth wasn’t amused. “I’ll thank you to get to the point, human.”
“Okay, so listen.” Devin rubbed his hands together. “Remember that agreement we made years ago? That we’d give your clan offerings twice per year if you stop laying waste to Skyhole?”
Byrekoth said nothing.
“So the thing is,” Devin continued. “I’ve received reports from my people that a smaller dragon has pillaged some of our livestock twice in the last three months. A small red dragon. Looks a heckuva lot like…” Devin motioned to Albyrt.
DJ and the others braced themselves for the retaliation. Their hands found their weapons. DJ tried to still his thumping heart.
King Byrekoth planted his claws and stretched higher. “You accuse my son of breaking our agreement?”
“I’m not saying he did or didn’t,” Devin raised his hands. “I just have a compelling case that he might be involved.”
“It’s not true, father!” Albyrt’s voice was surprisingly timid for a dragon—like a cat’s meow compared to a lion’s roar. “I’ve done nothing! Kill the human!”
“Albyrt, calm yourself,” Byrekoth said.
“I would never do anything to displease you, father!” Albyrt yipped. “I—I just went down to the city to observe the people! The humans are fascinating to me!”
DJ tried not to twist his face. Wow, Prince Albyrt is a terrible liar.
“Do you have proof of this crime, Dragonspeaker?” Byrekoth frowned.
“Actually, yes,” Devin said brightly. “Gimme a sec.”
Devin gathered his enchanted satchel and dove his arm inside. The satchel’s mouth came all the way to his armpit. Devin pulled out an extra greatsword, two wheels of cheese, a human skull, and a glowing square box, all while muttering to himself and dropping them on the floor. Byrekoth waited patiently. DJ and the gang shifted on their feet and tried not to become worried.
Meanwhile, the dragons continued to circle—a gang of thick, threatening stomps. One dragon in particular kept drifting close to DJ, sniffing him, studying. DJ tried to tighten his body to keep it from trembling. He bristled every time that dragon got close. On the third pass, the dragon gave a growl that came from deep in its throat. DJ never looked at it, but faced stoically forward.
“Ah!” Devin said. “Here it is!”
He held up the fragment of a dragon horn. Dragons gasped all around the cave, followed by hisses and murmurs. Prince Albyrt shriveled as if to hide his face.
“One of my people said he knocked this off the dragon in question!” Devin said, holding the fragment high. “Pretty impressive, if you ask me. It was next to the half-eaten cattle carcass.”
Byrekoth turned to Albyrt. “Care to explain yourself?”
With wings still tucked, Albyrt doubled down. “It—it’s not true! The Dragonspeaker weaves lies!”
“Mmm, I really don’t, though,” Devin said.
“Y-you insult my honor as Prince of the Red Dragons!” Albyrt straightened up and tried to look menacing. “For your crime, I challenge you to Dun-Ku-Rah!”
More gasps and murmurs from around the cave. Byrekoth’s anger flared. His razor-like teeth bore and his claws dug into the gold beneath him. “Albyrt, you have been caught in your lie! Do not disgrace yourself and our people with such talk!”
Albyrt wasn’t listening. “Face me, Dragonspeaker! I, Prince Albyrt of the Red Dragons, will see that you taste death this day!”
The entire cave echoed with dragonly groans as the great beasts shook their heads.
DJ leaned toward Devin and whispered. “Hey, what’s a Dun-Ku-Rah?”
“A duel to the death,” Devin said casually. “Dragons only do it to each other when they feel like they’ve been deeply wronged—insulted beyond reparations. So now I guess I gotta fight Albyrt.”
“You’re not worried? He’s still a dragon!”
Devin shook his head. He turned his attention to Albyrt and shrugged. “I accept, Albyrt. Should have just owned up to it. Byrekoth, is this well enough with you?”
DJ had never heard a dragon’s sigh before, but it was a pitiful grumble like the march of a hundred sad men. Byrekoth pinched the bridge of his great nose. “Fine. Fine. Albyrt, you disappoint me beyond words. Continue with the Dun-Ku-Rah.”
All dragons fluttered down from their ledges to gather around the cavern’s base. There had to be over a hundred of them—all terrifyingly large, with strong claws, red snouts, and yellow eyes. They formed a circle surrounding the two combatants. DJ and the gang found themselves sandwiched between two dragons who paid them no attention.
Devin strode out to the middle of the circle—near the large pile of bones—and bowed to Albyrt. Albyrt bowed in kind, though there was anger and fear in the young eyes. After they bowed, every dragon in the cave began chanting.
“Dun-Ku-Rah… Dun-Ku-Rah… Dun-Ku-Rah…”
The words ascended in volume until it was nearly deafening. Then… it stopped. The echoes faded. The cave became as still as a graveyard.
That’s when Albyrt struck. The dragon bent down and leaped into the air, his wings shooting him across the cavern floor, poised to strike Devin. A screech ripped from his jaws. DJ clapped his hands over his ears.
Devin ripped the greatsword from his back and likewise jumped into the air—an impossibly tall jump. Albyrt flew right under him. But in midair, Devin arched his back and made a swing. The tip of his greatsword severed Albyrt’s horn, matching the broken one. The severed piece fell to the ground and rolled into the pile of bones.
The dragon dug his claws into the ground, scraping to a stop. His yellow eyes burned. Devin rose to his feet and brandished his weapon. There wasn’t a hint of fear on his face.
DJ’s jaw dangled. Goddess Almighty.
Albyrt leaped forward again, but stopped a dozen feet from Devin. Albyrt opened his great jaws, and from the depths of his young dragon belly, spewed a jet of fire. From halfway across the cave floor, DJ and his friends could feel the heat. It was like Flamefist multiplied ten times. Fire danced in the reflection of their astonished eyes.
Albyrt’s fire ceased with a hissing cough. Smoke puffed from his snout. In the inferno’s wake, Devin emerged from his bearskin cloak, which he draped around himself like a cocoon. Steam arose from the cloak’s fur. He brandished his greatsword again, grinning.
It’s enchanted, DJ thought. A fireproof cloak. Smart.
In response, Devin gave a roar unlike anything DJ had ever heard. It was like the Goddess herself poured thunder from his lips—even making Steve’s hollers sound dull in comparison. Every dragon in the cavern retracted fearfully, and a dribble of urine fell from Albyrt’s quivering body.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
So that’s why they call him Dragonspeaker, DJ thought.
Prince Albyrt gathered himself. He leaped into the air, ascending with every flap of his wings. Then he dove toward Devin, wings tucked, making a javelin of himself. Devin planted his feet. His eyes flashed.
It was hard to tell what happened. DJ felt like he blinked and missed it. Devin swung his sword and rolled out of the way. And with a mighty, sickening thud, the body of Prince Albyrt flopped to the ground. A streak of crimson blood marked the trail between the prince’s neck and severed head. His lifeless eyes were wide and shocked, gazing into nothingness.
Behind DJ, Steve moaned and collapsed onto the floor, passed out. Riley clung to Francis. Francis said nothing.
Devin King got up, stretched, and fixed his crooked helm. His clothing and weapon were smattered with fresh blood, along with his face and neck. He set his sword down and wrung the blood from his fingers and hands.
“Sorry about that,” Devin said as if he had forgotten bread at the store.
Byrekoth let out an exasperated sigh. “Of all the sons I’ve had, he was my most foolish. I will make another—one wiser and more honorable.” A pause. “I beg your forgiveness on my son’s trespass, Dragonspeaker. I hope it does not tarnish our arrangement.”
Devin shrugged. “I’m just glad we got it sorted out.”
“If there is nothing else,” Byrekoth said, “you and your human friends are free to go. You have my deepest apologies.”
DJ replayed the ordeal in his head and sighed. Thank the Goddess. Hopefully this is the first and last dragon battle I see.
DJ and the others turned and were about to walk away, but they didn’t get the chance.
“Wait. I would like to challenge the human to Dun-Ku-Rah.”
DJ couldn’t keep the frustration off his face. Devin just fought one! What did he do to you?
When he turned around to see the source of the voice, he noticed it was the dragon that kept sniffing him. And the dragon wasn’t referring to Devin King. That dragon had its yellow gaze fixed squarely on DJ.
The dragon didn’t want to fight Devin. It wanted to fight him.
DJ’s insides turned cold.
“Grythure,” Byrekoth said, “what is the meaning of this?”
“I smell him,” Grythure bore his teeth. “The man who killed my father. I smell him on that boy.”
DJ’s legs turned to jelly. Maybe he was imagining things, but that dragon’s face looked a lot like one of the heads mounted back home.
Byrekoth frowned at DJ. “Are you the offspring of the golden-haired demon? The one called Sir Dashing?”
DJ said nothing. How could he? Two terrifying, fully-grown dragons had their sights set on him. Even if he wanted to speak, his tight throat wouldn’t let him.
“I know he is.” Grythure prowled toward DJ, never blinking. “That day is etched into my memory. We were feeding on a village in the Rimrod Hills when the golden-haired demon descended. I watched my father fall as that damned human ran his blade through him!” The bellowing roar filled the cavern. “And today, I shall have my revenge! Dun-Ku-Rah!”
A dragon. A battle with a dragon. One of the very things DJ was trying to avoid on this journey. One of the things Sir Dashing told him he wouldn’t be ready for. It was here, whether DJ liked it or not. The color drained from his face and he struggled to stand.
In a moment of courage, Riley stepped forward and bowed deeply to the dragons. “Please, don’t lay this crime on him!” she pleaded. “Sir DJ is a peaceful knight! He’s never killed a dragon and never intends to!”
Francis also found his tongue. “Do not punish him for the sins of his father. Please reconsider, we beg of you.”
Steve, unfortunately, was still unconscious.
“I have waited nearly two decades for this day!” Grythure commanded. “Stand and fight, boy! Face me as your father faced mine! Dun-Ku-Rah!”
Uncomfortably, Devin King put his hands on his hips and slid Byrekoth a look. “Your Highness, this doesn’t feel right. Is there any way we can call this off?”
Byrekoth shook his head. “It is one thing for me to intervene in the Dun-Ku-Rah of my foolish son, but Grythure is a fully matured dragon of his own mind. The Dun-Ku-Rah is the human boy’s best chance for survival.” He faced DJ. “You may fight Grythure and win, young human. But if you reject the challenge and leave this place, Grythure may very well treat you as prey. And you do not wish to be a dragon’s prey.”
DJ tried to steady his breathing. His heart thrashed in his chest. Byrekoth was right. Beating Grythure was the only way to ensure his survival—his remarkably slim chance of survival. But DJ had never dueled anyone or anything before, not really. And this was a dragon. A Goddess-damned dragon!
But there was no other choice, no matter how he spun it. He had to think of something miraculous, but first, he needed to accept the challenge.
With the shallowest of nods, DJ managed to croak out, “I accept.”
Riley immediately fell on him, grabbing his shoulders. “DJ, don’t do this. It’s a dragon. Maybe we can get out of here. Do an Evercloak spell or something.”
DJ’s throat was dry. He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be enough.”
Riley’s eyes welled with tears. “DJ, he’ll kill you.”
“Probably,” DJ thought for a second. “Or maybe not? Maybe I’ll think of something.”
“But if you don’t?”
DJ didn’t answer that one.
Meanwhile, Francis lifted Steve off the ground and slapped him awake. “Steven! Wake up! DJ has been challenged to Dun-Ku-Rah!”
Blearily, Steve shook the sleep from his eyes. “Huh—wha—?! Sir DJ! I will pray fervently for your safety and strength!”
Grythure was waiting for him in the middle of the circle. “Face me, boy! I want to feel your bones break between my teeth!”
With great effort, DJ forced himself forward. Deeper he went toward the center of the circle. Every pair of dragon eyes were on him. And Grythure paced in the middle of the circle like a lion.
As DJ approached, Devin walked in step with him. Devin spoke like a coach consulting an athlete. “So you only have a shortsword? Hm, that might be a problem. Grythure is pretty big, so you won’t be able to cut his head off. You could stab him through the heart, but your blade might not reach deep enough. I recommend going for the back of the head.” He tapped the back of his skull. “Under their skull is a sensitive spot. If you aim your stab just right, you should be able to get his brain. That’s your best bet.”
DJ’s reply was barely audible. “Thanks.”
“Do your best!” Devin clapped him on the back. “I’m pulling for ya!” Then he scurried to the edge of the circle.
The chanting began, whether DJ was ready or not.
“Dun-Ku-Rah… Dun-Ku-Rah… Dun-Ku-Rah…”
DJ didn’t pull his sword. He silently thanked himself for wearing his mage robes under his winter cloak. He spread his feet apart, steadying himself. His quivering fingers lifted to the air, and his lips prepared for magetongue. Silently, he prayed that it would be enough.
And for some reason, in this moment, he had a flash of a thought: his father. Sir Dashing. How horrible would it be to never return home? To never see him again? To die in this mountain hundreds of miles from his father’s warm embrace?
It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t.
“Dun-Ku-Rah!”
The chanting stopped. DJ’s heart pounded in his ears. Sweat coated his body. The echoes faded into oblivion. And as the silence swallowed them, Grythure crouched down, ready to pounce.
He leaped at DJ. His wings propelled him forward, filling the cavern with a gust of wind as he shot forward like a missile. His jaws stretched open, ready to snap up DJ. Grythure would be upon him in a second.
There was no time to think. DJ’s spellcasting was reflexive. He flung his arms and uttered magetongue with blessed precision. He put all his energy into it—his head hurt immediately. The result was a Barrier spell so fast and thick that it turned an opaque royal blue. It was hardly ten feet in diameter.
But it was enough.
Grythure’s face smashed into it. Cracks burst along the Barrier like a spiderweb. The crumpling of great dragon teeth crackled though the air. Everyone in the cavern winced at the sound. All of that force went directly into Grythure’s head, and with it, the great dragon collapsed. Unconscious. Its snout and jaw lay mangled and broken. Its tongue lolled out of his mouth and its eyelids fluttered.
DJ was so shaken that he could hardly think. The magic headache didn’t help either. Dragon body. Still alive. Not for long. Out cold. When he heard his friends shouting from across the cavern, and that awoke him to action. Go! Strike! With still-trembling hands, he pulled his sword, stumbled up to Grythure’s head, and climbed.
Before the dragon awoke, DJ had straddled the back of his neck and pointing his sword into the softness under Grythure’s skull. He held the blade in place, shivering.
Strike. Kill it. Win. DJ knew he should, but something stayed his hand. It was the image of the smoldering body at Broken Lovers Pass. The hole it burned in his soul. The feeling he knew he never wanted to have again. In this moment, a portion of that feeling grew fresh, but he didn’t stomach the whole thing.
“I can’t,” he croaked. “Not again.”
Grythure stirred awake. DJ knew he had to make this look good, so he gathered himself the best he could and kept his sword pointed into Grythure’s neck. He held one of Grythure’s horns to steady himself.
“You are defeated, Grythure!” DJ proclaimed, trying to fill his voice with fire. “I have bested you in Dun-Ku-Rah! But I shall not be a dragon slayer like my father before me. This is my offering of peace!”
A hush fell upon the dragons, which sprouted into confused whispers. DJ half-expected Grythure to buck him off, but the great dragon didn’t budge. He stayed still in defeat, rumbling pitifully.
Byrekoth broke the murmurs with a commanding growl. He said, “It is not our way to spare a life in Dun-Ku-Rah.”
DJ frowned. “But I am no dragon, and I will not slay him.”
To add to that, DJ remembered one of the wizard waffles in his pack. He pulled it out, leaned forward, and lobbed it into Grythure’s mouth. The dragon swallowed, and his maw restored to its original form with a landslide of snaps and cracks.
Everyone in the cavern grimaced at the sounds again. Grythure smacked his great lips and lolled his tongue around, feeling his restored teeth. But the great beast still grumbled angrily.
“You have put me in your debt,” he growled. “That is a fate worse than death.”
DJ held firm and gulped. But still, the dragon didn’t throw him off.
“Curious,” Byrekoth thought out loud. “To slay a dragon is a great honor for your people. But you refuse. Even when Grythure sought your life. Very curious indeed.” A quiet moment. “You seem determined to preserve an enemy’s life. However, there must be a consequence for Grythure’s defeat.”
No one breathed. The entire clan waited with expectant yellow eyes. Byrekoth’s great tail swished thoughtfully, then, with an air of resolve, he said, “Grythure, you are hereby banished from the red dragon clan. That is the cost of your defeat in Dun-Ku-Rah. As I have said, so it is done.”
DJ hopped off of Grythure’s neck and tried not to look at the subdued dragon, but couldn’t help himself. Grythure bristled with fury, claws trembling, wings retracted in shame. DJ wondered which was worse—being killed, or being forever separated from your people.
Then he stole a glance at Francis. It was hard to tell what Francis felt in this moment. But DJ knew one thing for sure—Francis became his truest self in solitude. So he hoped the same could happen for Grythure.
Grythure leaned toward DJ. DJ’s hands twitched, almost ready for another spell. The dragon didn’t strike, but bore his teeth and spoke so closely that DJ could feel the heat on its breath.
“This is not the last you shall see of me,” Grythure rumbled. “I pray that the mountains fall upon you and death takes you slowly. Farewell.”
Grythure flapped his wings so hard, the wind knocked DJ over. He ascended through the cavern until he disappeared through a hole. Through another hole, DJ watched Grythure fly into the distance. And after everything settled, the dragons all returned to their golden nests. On the cavern’s ground, only the humans, orc, and Byrekoth remained.
The dragon king sighed. “A truly shameful day for my people… a son and a warrior, both lost. Please, Dragonspeaker, take your people and go. Your work here is done.”
So they went. Some dragons carried the remains of Prince Albyrt onto the bone pile. DJ, Devin King, and the gang readjusted their winter coats and marched out of the cavern, grateful to be gone. The snow once again crunched under their fur-lined boots.
As they went, DJ thought of that fear that he felt right before Grythure struck. In that moment, all he wanted to do was see his father again—to feel the warm safety of his arms and see that glowing smile. In that moment, he would have given that for all the treasure in the world. The return to Beregond couldn’t come soon enough.
Another thought came soon after. DJ fought a dragon and won. He actually won against a dragon. A stifled laugh jumped off his lips. Dad’s never gonna believe this.
The group passed Kyndyn on the way out. The dragon frowned and nodded as they trudged by. Walking ahead of the group, swinging his arms, Devin looked over his shoulder. His face was bright and cheery, despite being half-smeared with dragon blood. He said, “All things considered, I think that went pretty well!”