To Cut Flames from the Air

Chapter III Part I: Aummal Claven

Eric took one step back, not lead by fear but by awe, though the two can often seem interchangeable. The pupil of the dragon's eye flooded its golden iris as its vision adjusted to the dim light of the forest night. As it directed its attention towards the boy that stood before it, Eric could see his own reflection in the black of the eye as though he looked upon a sheet of rainy shale. He dropped his stick.

Again, the head took a large, shaky breath, which set the ground around it to tremble with the sound of the ancient throat pulling in the air. The head spoke, thunder and stone lining its tone.

"A boy?" the dragon said. 

"A dragon," Eric replied, at a loss for any response despite an appropriate mirroring of the statement directed at him.

"I see. I suppose you will probably have to do." The dragon took in another raspy breath, letting out a choked cough before continuing. "What is your name?" 

"Me?" Eric asked.

"Well, I'm certainly not asking your friend behind the tree over there."

"Uh, I'm Eric," Eric replied.

"Don't tell it your name!" Langley shouted from the tree he stood behind.

"And that's Langley," Eric said. 

"Don't tell it my name either!" Langley said, before ducking fully out of view.

"Well, I must say that it is very nice to meet you, Eric," the dragon continued. "My name is Aummal Claven, the youngest of the Dragons of Blodafeorde and, from what I can presume, the last remaining. I'm afraid we haven't time for longer introductions, for as you could probably tell, I am not in the best health."

"Yeah, your head's been lobbed off," Eric said.

"How aptly put," Aummal Claven said. "Unfortunately, my condition has left me in grave need of assistance, a favor that I've offered many that have passed me in the forest over the last century but none have accepted."

"Wait, others have seen you here?"

"Certainly, a century is a long time and many wander these woods," Aummal Claven replied. "Sadly, few stay to chat."

"What's the favor?" Eric asked.

"It's no small task. Indeed, I wouldn't even consider asking it of a boy wandering the woods if I wasn't aware that my moments here are numbered and the task at hand is dire," Aummal Claven said. "What I ask of you is to retrieve the Beoralsverden, the Final Work of Utforalguden Patil, the First Goddess of Light, and deliver it to the court of Alchascelge."

"You mean Athlascelge?"

"I meant precisely what I said," the dragon replied.

"Well, that seems simple enough, I guess," Eric said. "Just get the Barrelsferder or whatever that Patil made and bring it back to her at Alchascelge."

"No, she will definitely not be among those who retrieve it," Aummal Claven said.

"Why not?" Eric asked.

"You don't study your history often, do you?"

"Oh, definitely not, Langley's the one that does all the studying between the two of us."

"Is that so? Then perhaps he can explain that for you," Aummal Claven said, looking towards the tree. "Can't you, Langley?"

Once addressed, Langley peered his head from behind the tree. "Uh, well, Utforalguten Patil died over two centuries ago," he explained, before ducking behind once more.