Tales of Fire and Ruin

Legends Come to Life

The air rapidly grew colder until I could see my own breath. Aside from the panting of the horse and the squeaking of the cart's wheels, the Serpentine valley was dead silent. Frost nipped at my nose and fingers as the horse galloped into snow.

Time seemed frozen like the landscape in the Serpentine Mountains. The valley looked like I'd left it, with snapped trees where the dragon, Oleander, had crash-landed. Pulling on the reigns, I brought the horse to a halt near the lakeside.

I hopped off the cart, landing in the snow with a soft crunch. There was still no sign I was being followed by either Oleander or Ytel's men, who didn't seem to have received the message their master had been dead for several weeks now.

I was alone. With a cart full of clothing, a horse, and an evil artefact I was supposed to wield. This was the place where it had all begun, and the place where it would end.

I had the queen's staff in my hands. The blood-red gem glinted dangerously in the light. A thin layer of snow had started covering the wooden part of the staff, but not the Changeling itself. The gem seemed to repulse the cold, even if I didn't feel any heat when I moved my fingers near it.

Breathing in and out deeply, I let my eyes fall closed as I prepared myself to touch the evil artefact. Not that I had any clue how I was supposed to 'prepare' for a challenge the Changeling would or wouldn't pose. My heart drummed in my ears. I was scared, but I had promised Oleander I'd help him. I couldn't turn back—I'd promised him I wouldn't.

I opened my eyes, determined to get my unpleasant task over with. But as I reached for the gem with trembling fingertips, hooves clopped on the road behind me. One of the mercenaries with his sword raised high above his head, and he had already seen me. Cursing, I dove behind the cart for cover so he couldn't cut my throat easily from horseback.

"You can't hide forever, lord Montbow!" the man taunted me. 

Something heavy thumped against the wooden cart. I thought it was another arrow at first, but then a pungent and acidy smell reached my nose, making me gag. A reddish brownish fluid trickled down the railing of the cart and dripped onto my shoulder. I grabbed my shirt, pulling the fabric taut, and immediately saw what it was. Blood. The mercenary had pelted the cart with old, fragrant blood. Depending on the direction of the wind, every dragon inside these mountains would catch the scent and believe there was a feast waiting for them in the valley.

My horse realised the danger, too. The mare nickered and danced in place nervously in front of the cart. The mercenary spurred his horse on and galloped closer. I rolled underneath the cart with the staff clenched in my hands so he couldn't reach me. But the mercenary didn't seem to come after me. His sword sang, followed by several snapping noises. I didn't realise what the man was doing until I saw a leather strap slouch into the snow. He was cutting my horse free.

"Wait!" I called out, crawling out from underneath the cart. "You don't need to do this, Ytel is dead! If it's coin you're after, I can pay you more!"

The mercenary smirked at me as he cut the last strap and my horse dashed away, disappearing behind the trees. His horse was nervous, too. The white of its eyes were visible as it threw its head back, and the mercenary struggled to keep the animal standing in place. 

A low rumbling came from the mountains. The mercenary looked behind him at the cliffs, then turned to me and grinned. "Ah, it looks like they've smelled the blood already. Enjoy you dragon fight, lord Montbow. And my sincerest condolences to your family."

With a barking laugh, the mercenary spurred his horse on and took off towards The Last Stop. I stood, and in a surge of panic, tried to brush the blood off my clothes. It only made the problem worse, spreading the thick, brown liquid further across the fabric. Shit, I couldn't take my clothes off in this biting cold.