Dragon Blossom

The dragon king

Eighteen years ago.

The little boy ran, ran, he could not stop, he must not stop, doubt meant death, delay was disaster, failure, tragedy. He wanted to cry, give up, and scream curses to the four winds, but he could not, he had to run, ask the soldiers for help.

The city of Cormin was not so large, it had a wall and a castle, the lord of the city did not have such great treasures, it was not prepared for the attack of a dragon, much less one like that. It had fallen in the middle of the night from a sky less black than its fire, or its heart.

The boy felt the heat of the flames on his back like his father's blacksmith's furnace, no matter how far he ran from the city, the heat did not diminish. Sometimes he seemed to see an intense light that reached him and illuminated the path. But he did not look back. The dragon slayers' camp would be a few hours' march away, perhaps they were even on their way, surely they could see...

"There's no point in running"

The sound of hooves against the stone road and the clinking of armor gave him hope, exhausted, he stood waiting to see a battalion of brave soldiers charging towards the city.

The sound came from behind.

The dragon slayers had been in the city from the beginning, of course, why else would they camp so close? Now they ran in retreat, defeated and frightened, they passed by his side without barely looking at him, like one more of the cobblestones on the road.

He looked back, there was nothing left to fight for anyway, the huge dragon had not left stone upon stone in the city, only a flaming wasteland that very slowly gave way to the darkness of the night. And in the center of the destruction, like an iridescent mountain, the dragon king contemplated his work.

No tears came out, the lump in his throat did not let him scream, he fell to his knees finally surrendered, without taking his eyes off the horrible scene. He was only seven years old. Just enough to understand, albeit late, that they had not sent him to seek help, but they had tricked him into fleeing, of course neither his father, nor his brother, nor any of the many brave men of the city could even distract the monster. They had all been burned so that he could escape.

He woke up in an old and dusty cot, smelling of sweat and horse manure, the sun peeked through the entrance of a poorly closed and worse installed tent. His legs hurt, he felt dizzy, his eyes burned, but he was alive.

A man in armor peeked through the entrance, seeing him standing, he called his captain. In an instant, a tall man in light armor entered with the helmet under his arm.

—Boy —He said— The goddess has protected you, you survived the Dragon King, many of us did not, unfortunately.

—I... —the boy was still confused, the pain and dizziness prevented him from thinking— others? —He asked with a voice as hollow as the hope he harbored, barely a thread of voice.

—I'm sorry kid, we've been looking for survivors for almost three days, I don't know why, but that monster wanted Cormin reduced to ashes, if his majesty hadn't scared it away maybe it would have destroyed all the nearby towns.

Three days... he had slept...

—Please... if I could have...

—Oh, that's right, Sergeant! bring some bread and water. The boy must be famished.

A few minutes passed in which the captain asked him a few kind but definitely clumsy questions. How did he feel? Like a damn giant dragon had just destroyed everything he knew and had gone three days without eating. But he still hadn't been able to cry, maybe he was too weak...