The Dragonscholar's Last Hunt

The sweet scent of moist bark battled with the crisp winter tang. Hugin snaked his arm around Eeve's elbow and gripped her wrist tight with his free hand. She led him through the forest he knew like a shepherd knows his flock. Hugin's eyes could no longer see the treacherous rocks and dips and roots on the ground, but his ears and nose saw more than his eyes had the last time he'd entered the wood. All those years past...

"I could come back a heroine," Eeve said, pulling Hugin her way to avoid some obstacle.

"You would make a great heroine." A melancholy smile adorned Hugin's wizened face. He'd seen forty-seven winters, yet the years since the accident had taken a toll on his looks. He'd lost more than his sight, that day. It had torn open a rift between his young sister and himself. Perhaps that was why she had insisted he join her on this mad quest. To forge a new bond.

She had insisted, but he hadn't needed much convincing. To see a Great Dragon again... He never thought he would. You can't, you fool. He now saw with his nose and ears. Hands too, but he doubted he would touch the dragon. Not that one.

"Will you do me a kindness?" Eeve sounded ten years younger than she was, almost shy.

Hugin smiled. "Anything, sweetling."

"Can you... What did it look like? The Great Dragon, when you saw it?"

Ah. That's what it is. Eeve felt ill at ease every time she mentioned the day that had seen Hugin's greatest feat, but his downfall as well. Hugin had never told her the true story.

He had explained how he had fallen off a low cliff when the dragon had spread its deceptively gigantic wings, hit his temple on a rock and lost his sight as a result. She had believed every word of it. Bless her. So had the townspeople, and everyone who had an interest in dragons. Hugin had been known henceforth as Hugin the Dragonmaster. An honor he was attributed as a gesture of pity, for a dragonscholar could only become a true dragonmaster if he got his hands on a dragonseye. Hugin had never found one and it remained to this day a dream of his. A dragonseye was to dragonscholars what the Philosopher's Stone was to alchemists.

"I shouldn't be so arrogant as to claim to be able to render a true description. Only by seeing it yourself can you truly grasp how magnificent it is. How gracefully it moves. But I can try nonetheless. Its scales are red and bright as the sun at eventide. Thick spines line its back, from its hardened arrowhead tail to its twin curved but deadly horns. Each of the horns is thrice the size of the one I use to play music. Its fanged teeth are sharp as any dagger I've seen, and the large bat-like wings are...well, surprisingly large." He chuckled, but he felt Eeve's commiserating stare.

She lay her hand on Hugin's balding head and lowered it gently to avoid a low branch. The echo of a distant river reached his ears as clearly as the birds' chirps above. The earthy smell grew thicker, and the blurred light his eyes did see dimmed. They were getting deep into the forest.

"But the most daunting observation for me was the smell. A miasma of burnt bones and rotting flesh. I can still smell it. It helped me track it, mind you." He lifted his head, as if to face the heavens. "We will be coming up to the river soon, I can feel it on my face. We will follow it downstream for a little bit, there is a nice and easy crossing about a league from here."

She guided his steps, but he guided their path. He had used this route countless times in his years, looking for the Great Dragon, so rare and dangerous.

"You know, I am beyond grateful that you agreed to come with me." She squeezed his hand. "I could scarcely even hope to slay it if it weren't for you."