Prince of Dragons

Epilogue

The yellow autumn sun was setting early that evening, dyeing the mass of gathering clouds at the horizon a bright orange. Lannhil paused on his way, observing the spectacle of nature, a grim look in his eyes. Dark times ahead.

He continued his walk up the narrow mountain path. It was an ancient route, made by humans, he presumed, since the knights of old hadn't lived this far north, as far as he knew. This region had belonged to the dragons at least as long as recorded history. What had happened before that, was the subject of myths, myths that told of gods living in the world and the world's inhabitants becoming gods, of mysterious heroes whose stories had been so warped by time that it was difficult to determine if they had been dragons, knights or members of another species altogether - if they had even lived.

He sighed. Already, he was becoming a myth himself, even while alive. The stories about his defeating the tyrant king were amplified and exaggerated every time they were told. But what could he do about it?

He reached an open spot in between the pine trees. This was where they'd agreed to meet, away from others, away from the problems they faced in their public lives.

Lannhil shook his head. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to be king of Garowain. But here he was, operating in the political field after all, trying to convince his brother to quench the flames of hatred in this country while it was still possible. Argowin did not listen. The humans and knights of Garowain had to be protected, he said. The dragons were growing ever more dangerous.

Wainur suspected his son Norvand was behind it. The younger dragon was not happy that Wainur had declared Winnia his successor. The sudden uproar among dragons, the recent attacks on humans and knights by draconic bandits, all of it had begun after Wainur had denied Norvand the throne. But what could the Dragon King do? Norvand was a prince. Norvand was his son. He'd reasoned with Norvand, he had tried, but it hadn't worked, for Norvand was his own man and would not listen to his father.

And in the meantime, the call for retribution was growing among the humans and knights of Garowain. It couldn't be, they said, that dragons were still considered superior to humans, it couldn't be that they got away with such crimes, it couldn't be that Wainur's subjects had free reign in Garowain, even if Lannhil was the Dragon King's friend, that didn't matter, because the knights weren't in charge anymore, were they?

Lannhil shivered in the breeze. The people's protests were still fresh in his mind. He was at a loss how to respond to them, how to address their complaints. He'd tried to be a mediator, to explain the dragons' viewpoint, that these attacks were made by illegal gangs and that Wainur was working hard to stop the attacks, but he could no longer convince them. The peace with the dragons had always been uneasy, they claimed, never real, their cultures were too different, they couldn't share one country...

It was driving him mad.

A shadow fell over him. He heard the flapping of wings as a large body landed on the ground behind him. He turned around and recognised his friend.

"Wainur," he said, smiling sadly.

The golden-scaled dragon looked his friend in the eye, tilting his head slightly. "You had a hard day."

Wainur always noticed such things.

"I'm wondering," Lannhil said. "You always say everything changes."

"Hm?" Wainur murmured.

Lannhil turned around and stared at the valley below. "I'm starting to think it doesn't. Dragons, humans, knights, we do not change. We do not learn."

Wainur walked up to him, his heavy tail sweeping over the earth. "What makes you think so?"

"I do not know exactly what came before this age," Lannhil said, "but I do know the knights used to rule the south. I know they - we - decimated our population with wars. As for what came before that - well, the research I've done doesn't reveal much, but it suggests an even greater cataclysm. And today, we are still self-destructive. That never changes."

There was silence. Then, Wainur said, "Bad news from the south, then."

"Argowin wants me to denounce you," Lannhil said. "Publicly."

Wainur laughed. "Denounce? You're not my servant, you're my friend. You're not bound to me."

"He wants the people to know I'm on their side," Lannhil said. "There are complaints about our friendship."

"As for me, go ahead and denounce me," Wainur said. "I know you don't mean it." He shook his head. "I fear the dragons will require me to do the same soon."

"Wainur, you know I can't lie," Lannhil said. "I couldn't denounce you even if I tried."

"But are you on their side?" Wainur asked.

"No," Lannhil said. "No, I'm not on their side. I'm on no-one's side. That's the problem. All my life, I've helped people, not sides. Individuals, no matter if they were dragons or humans or knights. I care about people. But as far as sides are concerned, I'm beginning to hate those." Tears welled up in his eyes. "Somehow, these days, being neutral is no longer an option."

Wainur smiled. "Well, if everything goes wrong, you and I can always go live in a deserted cottage somewhere, far from everyone else."

Lannhil looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "My friend, you're a dragon. How do you plan to live in a cottage?"

"A big cottage?" Wainur suggested, baring his teeth in a grin. "A really big one?"

Lannhil laughed. "I'll start looking for a cottage the size of a town district, then."

"Ah, I get why you don't want to denounce me!" Wainur said. "I don't blame you, it's because I'm so hilarious."

Lannhil nudged his friend with his elbow. Somehow, Wainur's sense of humour always managed to cheer him up to some degree.

"You know, Lannhil," his friend said suddenly, "you carry the weight of the world on your back."

"What else should I do?" Lannhil asked.

"You've done all you could," Wainur said. "We both have. But I can't control Norvand and my subjects, just like you can't control Argowin and his. We can't force them to do as we say. If they don't listen, then it's out of our hands."

"But there's a war coming!" Lannhil said. "A war! I know it! And it's going to destroy Garowain and ruin so many lives!"

"And our worrying won't change that," Wainur said.

Lannhil sighed. "Maybe. But I cannot be happy on the eve of disaster."

"Maybe that's exactly what we should do," Wainur said. "When all humour vanishes and everyone becomes serious, that's when things are at their worst. And frankly, you're at your best when you don't worry so much."

"So you still think there's a chance to stop this war?"

Wainur thought for a while. "Yes. I think there is. But if there isn't, well, at least we'll have done all we can."

Silence fell. They watched as the sun slowly vanished behind the mountains.

And then Lannhil asked, "What if we die?"

"I don't believe we will," Wainur responded. "But if it comes to that, well, then hopefully, sometime in the future, another knight and another dragon will finish what we started."

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A/N: Thus ends Prince of Dragons! I thank all of you who have or will one day have read this far: you are the ones that make this story come alive, the ones who make me go on writing. You are amazing people.

As I announced, I will take a short break before starting on the next book. I notice that I need it. My intent is to upload the first part of the second book in January.

In the meantime, once again thank you all very much; I hope you enjoyed Prince of Dragons and will enjoy the sequel just as much!