Last Quest

Chapter 4: The Painting

Four days have passed since the party set off on their quest. The night quickly descended on the forest as Dravon collected dry sticks for a fire while the sorcerer performed a simple spell to ignite a spark by rubbing his hands together. Luckily, he brought a supply of coarse bread and dry beef to get them, at least, across the swamp. As the two sat by the fire to eat, Melrytos curled up to lay beside them; dragons, much like snakes, did not need to eat too often. Melrytos, who did not fly, would usually go for three to six days without eating, and when he needed to, he would hunt the large fish that passed the creek near Oakliff in the mornings. The darkness surrounded them; past the treeline, they could hear the howls and calls of many creatures of the forest. "What is actually the plan when we get to the city?" Dravon asked.

"I will tell King Sandor about the Forsaken Magic being heightened in the land. I do not personally know the current Crowned Sorcerer, but I have only heard stories of his incompetence, so I doubt he will be of much help. After that, I would hope that he will gather as many men as possible until the rift opens so we would have a fighting chance." Maldric stopped and glanced at the sleeping dragon before continuing. "Melrytos is large enough to be ridden, and we would have enough time to discover everything ever written about the Varatrosun and dragon combat, so if Thalon really was to return then..."

"Then I would simply summon a mythological power and fight a god." Dravon answered.

Maldric rolled his eyes and put away the piece of bread he was eating. "Thalon Leonart is not a god; he is a spoiled man who believes the world owes him for his existence. I am sure you are very capable of defeating him."

"Even tho I believe that he is very much dead, I will ask this; how do you propose he could have stayed alive for two centuries? "

Maldric looked to the side, thinking of how to answer the question. "He was the first one to use the Forsaken Magic. Outside of him and the Trosun, no one has ever wielded it, so as you can imagine, we know very little about it. For all we know it could be a reason."

"So half of this plan is based around a power you know nothing about? Used by a man that in a war, two centuries ago?"

"Dragons were supposedly last seen two centuries ago, and yet you are sitting next to one."

Dravon looked at Melrytos, with slight guilt in his eyes. "He does not even fly. There were no other dragons to teach him, and he never had the need to learn it himself."

"Some say that dragons were as smart as people; if you wished to fly, he would too. If you were to jump from the highest mountain in the world, he would jump after you without a moment of hesitation. You might not believe that you are Trosun Eldro, but you are the first one in two centuries to bond with a dragon."

After their talk, Dravon thought about that night again. When and why did the egg hatch? Thinking about it felt like drowning, like trying to remember a memory that never happened. If a six-year-old child was capable of hatching a dragon, why didn't anyone else do it before? The two put their cloaks over the soft forest ground covered with moss. They were exhausted from traveling the uneven mountain terrain. As they lay on the makeshift beds, the two quickly fell asleep, which would not be interrupted for the rest of the night. They slept peacefully, unaware of the presence stalking them since they first settled in the clearing. Many beady, shining eyes stared at them from the forest's darkness, making their way toward them as they slept.

Morning came, with a chill in the air; birds were chirping and the forest rose to life. Dravon woke up the next morning to find Maldric anxiously looking around the clearing, flipping everything they had put on the ground, and even digging the moss. "This is new," Dravon said as he propped himself up to look at him, barely awake.