The Living Stone, Chapter 7

The air in Argassa was cold following the rain, and it was the rain Rangus followed.  Footstep after footstep, he tromped through the damp and often muddy ground in the direction of the rain.  Though it had been traveling east, it now bent to the north, toward Drakvald, a place feared and demonized by the many tribes of Argassa.  But Rangus knew better, the tales of devious humans and raging dwarves were old now, and those peoples had not been far to the south in some time.  Rangus could only think of two reasons why they would avoid the comparatively ample hunting grounds of the rock wastes, they were afraid, or they had all they needed.  Either way, the goblin chief thought himself quite safe on this trek, half grinning at the thought of any fool that was going to cross his path. 

He pulled his darcat-fur cloak tighter over his shoulders, as the nagging damp began to eat at him.   The air was a miserable kind of chilly that came from dampness, a raw, wretched pall that seemed devoid of hope and life.  It was the kind of cold that sickness was born from, and it was that cold that Rangus sought.  The cold did not affect him so badly; he was so hot inside that he almost welcomed the terrible chill.  The hotness in Rangus was not his Gift, it was the humiliation.

After Rangus' failure to slay the dragon Bink had found, his tribe had withdrawn to more familiar lands, accompanied by a weariness and fear that colored everything they did.  Hunts did not fair as well as they might because the hunters were too unsure of themselves to take risks.  Rangus knew better than to punish them for such things, times for his tribe were hard enough.  He did not want to risk anarchy by antagonizing his people, and though no one had expressed it, Rangus felt responsible for the cowardice that had overcome them all.  He had failed his people, and now they suffered for it. 

It would not stand.  There was no way he could guide his people now, not when the shadow of the dragon and his horrible power loomed over Rangus' legacy as a chief.  He was one of the oldest living chieftains of his tribe, certainly not the oldest goblin but definitely the longest lived goblin with a position of power.  Because of his Gift, and his wisdom and strength as a leader, other tribes of goblins and even orcs tended to avoid Rangus' territory.  His people were strong, his words were inspiring, and his name spoken in whispers.  It was possible that he was the strongest creature in Argassa, by reputation at least. 

All of that, torn to pieces by one dragon.  And so, after leaving instructions to his most trusted warriors and under cover of night, Rangus left his tribe.  He exiled himself to the wasteland, only to return to his tribe when he held the head of the dragon. 

There was a crunch under his foot, which caused him to look down quizzically.  Half sunken into the soaked ground was a charred lump of wood that had crumbled under his foot.  Gazing around, he could make out tracks that swirled around the dead campfire, and broke off of the path of the storm.  Slowly he turned toward this new path, cocking his head curiously.  The imprints were faint but he could make out two distinct sets, those of a goblin, and those of a large creature with a broad, heavy stride.

Frowning for a moment, Rangus considered the implications of this discovery.  The last few seconds of the dragon hunt replayed in his mind, and the tiny figure that ruined everything flashed before him.  Growling, he stalked down the path between the other two sets of footprints.  He would return with the dragon's head, and also with the head of the traitor, Bink.  

*******

Wardan considered himself a tall person for a human, and he felt taller still among dwarves.  Still, in the halls below the mountain the dwarves called home, he never really felt cramped or at a lack of space, at least not more than anyone else. 

Now, in a tiny crack of a cave, sharing space with another human, a goblin, and a dragon, the raider felt just a little claustrophobic. 

Still, it was not as though he could complain.  He was practically unable to move in his current condition, so it was more accurate to say he was getting restless than the cramped quarters were getting to him.  The moment that Rilea let him get up and move around, he felt he would run from the mountain to the Dustlands and all the way back to Norheim, still with energy to spare. 

Sadly, the encounter with the other dragon at the top of the mountain had left quite a mark on the raider.  Even with his Gift enhanced durability and strength, that dragon was able to do significant damage; the most he had ever sustained.  Somehow, falling off the side of a cliff was less painful the blow to the chest he took.  He was able to move enough to get around, but Rilea demanded that he rested, at least for a short time.  Her reasoning was that his nigh invulnerable body was not used to repairing itself, and if he didn't give it a chance to heal properly he could cripple himself. 

Wardan agreed initially, but now, about a day later, his reservations were beginning to grow.  It was true that there was plenty of food, provided by Kra and Bink, but when they were not busy hunting they were in the cave, infringing on Wardan's space.  Kra was not so bad, but Bink was insufferably curious, and strangely friendly for a goblin. Wardan knew of goblins as savage folk, borderline xenophobic in their defense of territory. Bink, a little runt of a goblin, was brave and unguarded in his attempts to befriend Wardan and Rilea.

But then if Wardan had a huge dragon like Kra watching his back, he would perhaps be just as confident. Kra somehow had less presence than the little goblin, keeping his peace but for the few terse words he deigned to share and when he was eating.  He mostly kept to the back of the cave near a small pool of water, where he dozed or sat in contemplation.  That morning, Wardan noticed Kra staring intently at the surface of the water, glaring at a spot on the wall near the surface like the cave had grown a nose that was dripping unpleasantly.

Rilea remained as impenetrable as ever in her mystery, but she at least was an easier target for Bink. When she was around, Bink would latch onto her like a parasite, asking questions and making small talk. Unlike Wardan, Rilea seemed to enjoy the goblin's harmless inquisitions, and she spoke in a feathery light tone to him. It dawned on the raider that she must speak to her child the same way.

"Shut up."

Wardan snapped out of his contemplations, and turned toward Kra, who laid at the back of the cavern, supposedly asleep.  He and Kra were the only ones in the cave, but Wardan had not spoken a word.

"Excuse me?" Wardan asked. Kra gave no response, but it was then the raider noticed the dragon's big rocky paws were covering the top of his head, like a child trying to shut out  a frightening noise. "Are you alright?" Wardan asked, trying to inch closer to him. The big dragon said nothing still, and began to quake in his reverie. Whatever was going on was clearly disturbing him.

Looking around his immediate vicinity, Wardan located a rock he could toss easily.  Bink had done a fine job clearing out the cave of debris, but a few scattered stones still remained. He found one, and looked to toss it.  He stopped himself short of throwing it directly at Kra. The last time he threw something at a dragon was when he got this hurt in the first place. Instead, he whipped the rock into the pool next to the dragon's bed.

It landed with a loud splash, and Kra woke with a start. His big red eyes seemed frightened for a moment, and he whipped his head over to Wardan. He was ready to immediately apologize, but the dragon spoke first.

"Hurry, you must leave!" Kra said.

"... Come again?" Wardan responded. Why did all his encounters with dragons have to be so confusing?

"It will happen soon, I cannot stop it," Kra picked himself up and started for Wardan's spot.  "The water is moving, and I didn't even feel their approach, they'll be hear soon!"

"The water ... I threw a stone in there," Wardan blurted out, trying to explain himself.  He had no idea why he was being thrown out, but he was in no position to stop the dragon if he really want it.

Thankfully, Kra paused, blinking. "You did? Why would you do that?"

"To wake you up," Wardan admitted.  "You were talking and shaking in your sleep.  Nothing's coming, big guy, it was just a bad dream."

Kra visibly relaxed at the man's words, drawing back and sitting down. "I see. Thank you, I suppose."

"Don't mention it," Wardan said, relaxing again.

"Why should I not? I am grateful."

"No, I ..." Wardan smiled, sighing.  "It's just a saying."

Kra considered it momentarily.  "Ah, so much akin to our saying, 'wind over the wings'."

"Sounds about right," Wardan said.

"I wonder how else we are similar." Kra laid back down, but stayed looking at the human sharing his cave.

"We could talk for a while," Wardan suggested.  "I've got nothing better to do."

Kra nodded. "I don't mind.  I suppose I've been a poor host in that regard; I'm not used to company yet."

"If you don't mind me asking, who is the Mother? You mentioned her to the other dragon."

Kra dipped his head down in reverence. "The Motherwyrm, Bringer of Life, Matron of Dragons. She is the inspiration dragons strive for, patience, power, wisdom, and charity. Do you not have a similar ideal among your kind?"

Wardan frowned. "We did, long time ago.  Not so much anymore.  Humans believe the gods forgot them and left them to die in the wastes. The dwarves are a tad more charitable, they think the gods will come back someday, when we've showed we can stand on our own."

"What do you believe, Wardan?"

Wardan thought back to his encounter with the Wanderer. "I think there's a chance someone's got an eye on us."

"That is the least we can hope for, truly." Kra looked behind him for a moment, then faced Wardan again.  "Do you consider yourself a man of learning?"

"More like a soldier, but I'm curious enough that it gets me in trouble."

Kra grinned. "Do you wish to see something truly curious?" He motioned over to the pool.

Wardan picked himself up and gingerly made his way over to the dragon's pool.  He peered into it, now noticing for the first time how deep it was.  "Huh, lucky finding a water source this big."

"This was not here when we arrived," Kra told him. Wardan gave him a disbelieving glance, at which the dragon pointed to waters depths along the wall. "Feel along that spot."

Wardan knelt by the pool as instructed and dipped his hands in the pleasant waters.  He felt along the wall, and found several deep gouges at different depths.  "Cracks where the water is coming from?"

"Claw marks," Kra said.  "Specifically, my own.  The first is now much lower than your arm can reach without immersing the rest of you. I made that mark the day after Bink and I found this cave, to mark the top of the water."

Wardan's eyes widened when he considered the implications.  "The water level is rising?"

"With no discernible source," Kra said.  "What do you think of that?"

"It has to come from somewhere," Wardan said.  "Maybe it's melting down from the top?"

"You and I were both at the top, there's no ice."

"Oh. Good point." Wardan thought for a moment.  "Nellik's a bright guy, he might be able to figure this out."

"Who's that?" Kra asked, somewhat apprehensively.

"A friend of mine, he's at the camp at the base of the mountain right now." Wardan grinned sheepishly.  "We probably should have let him know we were stuck here for a day or two."

"Would your female friend have mentioned it when she left to hunt?"

"I suppose," Wardan said, sitting back down. "Still, that's odd but not unheard of.  I've been to a mountain spring before."

"Oh really?" Kra said.  "One that just sprang up overnight?"

"We keep finding new spots in the vicinity that pop up now and again," Wardan explained. "The Norheim Spring started near the top of the mountain about a century ago, but now there's fifteen springs on a mountain that used to be dry."

Kra seemed to quiet, digesting the information with large swishes of his tail. Wardan watched him move, noting the vast difference between this dragon and the one he met with the Wanderer.  Arithar was lean and majestic, a shining symbol of draconic virility. His scales almost had a mirror polish to them, and his eyes were gentle and warm. 

Kra, on the other hand, seemed weighed down by his own body.  His scales were dark and thick, his claws looked cracked and blunt.  Still he stood proudly, defiant of his very being.  His eyes were warm too, but the civility in them could be replaced quickly by a fierceness that made Wardan afraid.

"Could I ask you a personal question, Kra?" Wardan said timidly.

"You may," Kra said, breaking free of his thoughtful trance.

"Were you always ... encumbered like this? I've seen a few dragons, but even the worst off didn't look so ...."

"I am Twisted, and this is my punishment," Kra said simply.

Wardan sat a moment, mouth agape with dead words on his tongue. "Who did this to you?"

"The elder of my flight.  He knew when the change had taken hold of me, and offered me a choice: receive the curse and be banished, or execution. I chose the curse, because I must survive."

The raider simply stared for a moment. That was not what he expected.

Kra looked away.  "It is forbidden for other dragons to acknowledge a Twisted as wretched as me."

"That's cruel," Wardan said. "Surely your own kind would have some pity?"

"The word for cruelty in the language of dragons is the same word as pity," Kra told him, looking directly at him with resolute eyes.  "I am alive, and that is all that matters."

Wardan went quiet for a long time. Neither he nor Kra spoke a word, until another question came to Wardan's mind. "How are you Twisted? What makes you so different?"

Kra seemed unsure of the answer.  "All I know is that sometimes, a nightmare follows me from my sleep, and is capable of destroying anything it finds." He cast a glance at Wardan.  "Are you so certain you want my help?"

A thought occured to Wardan after a moment.  "How did you become Twisted? That's not what did this to you, right?"

"No, I was Twisted before I became as you see now.  One day, something just ... changed. It's hard to describe, but I was just different one day."

Wardan stood up.  "Did you dream the night before?"

Kra's eyes widened for a moment before he cast his gaze away. "One has a difficult enough time remembering dreams moments after being awake. It's hardly reasonable to expect me to remember my dream from years ago."

"No, this dream you remember.  It comes back again and again, vivid and clear each time.  You don't know why, but it changes everything."

Kra seemed to glare at him, as though his words were frustrating him deeply.

"Kra, did you dream of the trees?"

"What do you know of trees?" Kra asked.

"Only what I've seen in my dreams."

Kra seemed horrified at his words.  Wardan smiled as he realized the truth of his new friend.

"Kra, you aren't Twisted, you're Gifted."

*******

"Was it supposed to take 'em this long?"

Grif paced the camp back and forth, his great big boots wearing a rut in the ground. The camp they made the day before now seemed far too small to the dwarf. He and Nellik had been told the trek would be some time, but now it was going on a day and a half and there had been no sign of the two Gifted, and the dusty little crevice they were in now barely contained the dwarf's nervous energy.

"They are climbing a mountain," Nellik reminded his friend.  "Don't mistake your impatience for their lack of haste."

"I know, I know!" Grif grumbled. "But you know it's been a while, right? It's been much too long, for just a straight up and down trip."

Nellik sighed, reclining against a rock. "How can you be so calm-like about this?" Grif growled at his companion. "The captain is off on his known doing Gods know what!" Grif rumbled his frustration. "I should have gone with him; I'm a dwarf, mountains are my life! I know mountains over and under! For all we know that thief did ... something thiefy, and left Wardan to die at the top of some windy cliff!"

"Do you even hear yourself?" Nellik chuckled. "You never seemed the type to worry before now, this is highly unlike you."

"I'm not worried, smartypants," Grif scoffed. "I just think this was a mistake now."

"Even if you don't trust Rilea, have more faith in Wardan. He's more than capable of handling himself."

"It doesn't matter, I should be there with him, Gifts be damned!" Grif kicked a small rock across the dusty ground.  "It's about loyalty and honor, the most important things to a dwarf."

"Weren't you kicked off your last team for breaking the nose of your last captain?" Nellik asked. "Where was your loyalty and honor then?"

"Braggo was a coward," Grif spat. "He hid behind regulations and formalities; he didn't have the guts to be a raider, and deserved what he got. Can't be loyal to someone you don't respect, right?"

"In some twisted way, I suppose that makes sense," Nellik admitted.

"Borlan picked me up after my probation, said I was just crazy enough to be useful," Grif said, beaming with an off-kilter sense of pride. "When he assigned me to Wardan, I didn't know what kind of insane things he was capable of, but if I had I would have asked for him by name. Gift or no, he's the sort of leader I can really get behind: unflagging courage, gets his hands dirty, puts his team first, and not afraid to try something just because it's crazy. He's the closest a human can get to being a dwarf."

Nellik nodded. "Save for his inability to grow a beard."

"He's young still, it can happen!" Grif told him. "He'll never get the chance if that thief betrays him up there!"

"And why, pray tell, would I do that?"

Grif wheeled around, coming face to blindfold with a slyly grinning Rilea. She stood over then on one of the hills that surrounded the camp, arms crossed in a teasingly confident manner. But it was not her demeanor that flustered Grif so, it was the small, stumpy form of a goblin that stood next to her, clinging to her robes.

She must have noticed Grif's distaste, as she held up a comforting hand. "Don't worry about him, he's been nothing but help since he saved us," Rilea said, placing a motherly hand atop the goblin's head as she deflected the worry of the other raiders.

"Saved you?" What happened?" Nellik asked.

"Oh, just a rampaging dragon," Rilea said.

"You're telling me that two gifted were saved from a dragon by a GOBLIN?" Grif said incredulously.

The goblin next to her nodded. "Bink and Kra, both fight dragon, save new friends!" he clung tighter to Rilea's robes, his brave tone belying his nervous disposition. 

Grif noted the bundle of crude javelins on his back, and eyed him warily. "Where's Warden, then?"

"Recovering," Rilea said. "He got the brunt of the dragon's wrath, and actually managed to get hurt, for what I assume was the first time in a long time. So our other new friend is keeping him company while Bink and I went hunting."

"I don't see any spoils," Nellik stated.

Rilea looked over he shoulder. "Oh, we have plenty. That's one of the reasons I came back to camp, besides to very courteously give you some news. We need some help carrying all we have back to the cave."

Grif scrambled up the hill, causing the goblin to scurry to Rilea's other side, keeping her between himself and the excitable dwarf. The woman gestured off in the distance to a small outcropping she had marked with a spare scarf. It seemed to be a sizable pile from far away.

"All that's yours?" Grif asked.

"Ours," she corrected, "as long as you help me lug it up the mountain to Wardan."

"Come on, Nel, we got some work to do!" Grif shouted back to his teammate before trundling off towards the pile of animal carcasses.

Grif''s jaw dropped when he saw the sheer volume of game they had managed to bring down.  A whole family of ashrabbits, at least a dozen bladehawks and even a couple of massive cliff lizards lay in a pile in between the two boulders. There was enough here to last the small group for a week.

"Why did you bother catching so much?" Nellik asked after his surprise had subsided. "Surely much of this will spoil before there is a chance to eat it?"

"This is all for two nights," Rilea explained simply, causing Grif and Nellik to gawk at her.

"Does the goblin eat enough for five?" Nellik said.

"No, but our new dragon friend does."

"Dragon?" Grif roared. "I thought you said you killed a dragon?"

"How do you think we managed that on our own? We had another dragon on our side."

"And a goblin?"

"They did not ask us why we kept company, we did not ask them."

Bink chuckled a throaty goblin chuckle.

As they worked to gather up the food, Grif could not help but keep a stern eye on the goblin. Rilea must have noticed, because as he was bundling up the last of the cliff lizards she came over to sit by him.

"He's really quite good company," Rilea said, nodding in the direction of the goblin, who was wrapping up the ashrabbits. "Both are, to be honest."

"Never met a goblin I didn't wanna bash," Grif said, eyeing the little creature sideways.

"Don't you dare be rude to him," Rilea warned the dwarf. "He risked much to help us."

"Goblins ain't got much to offer in terms of trust," Grif said. "He's got a lot to prove, if he thinks he can win over a dwarf."

"I think he's done plenty if you ask me. Most of this was his catch, I barely helped."

Still, Grif was apprehensive. "But a dwarf thanking a goblin? I'd never live it down!"

"We don't get to choose our allies in the wasteland," Rilea reminded him. "Bink and Kra have only been help to us so far, it would be highly impolite of us to refuse their help."

Grif nodded slowly, coming to terms with the idea. Honor in the face of adversity, after all. It was the dwarven way.

With a much improved mood, he walked over to Bink, who cringed at the dwarf's approach. He sized up the goblin, and extended his hand. Hesitantly the goblin grasped Grif's meaty appendage.

"Thanks for helping me and my friends, little guy."

"Thank for not crushing Bink, dwarfy," Bink replied timidly as Grif shook his hand.

The dwarf gave a chuckle. "Call me Grif, Bink. Let's get this meal up to your buddy now."

*******

 That evening, the group of six dined together in the small cave.  Kra had been apprehensive of meeting even more people; this was only his second day in Drakvald and already his social circle had tripled in size. But the newcomers, Nellik and Grif, seemed just as amicable as Wardan and Rilea, not to mention Bink. 

While they ate, Wardan told his raider friends about the fight with the dragon, regaling them with a detailed -- and sometimes exaggerated -- explanation of the young, aggressive dragon that had attacked them on the top of the mountain. They listened with rapt attention as their captain told them how Kra came in and challenged their foe just before it was going to kill him, and how Bink swept in at the last minute to deliver the crucial strike that won the battle. Kra found himself just as riveted by the retelling, despite having actually been there.

Time moved swiftly, in the way that company tends to pass it.  Kra was lost in it all, his mind whirled from the new voices and faces. He did not expect to meet so many people so soon after coming to Drakvald. With one brave choice, he had endeared himself to two strangers, who seemed to have no problem introducing him and Bink to more people.

Kra's instincts told him this was a bad idea. All during the meal he kept his peace, listening contently while he considered his options. There was no reason to trust them; after all, they might have ill intentions, just as the last ones did. But he did not want to simply tell them to leave, it had been so long since he had so many people around him. The days before his curse, he had his whole clan around him all the time. Even the voices in his dream earlier knew he was lonely, and wanted him to keep these humans around.

But as the evening came upon them, his doubt crept back in. He solemnly reminded himself that if he wanted to last in this new land, he could not interfere with the other races unnecessarily. As comforting as it was to have one companion, let alone all the new ones, the less attention he drew to himself the better. As long as the humans did not mind him being here, he could happily leave them be, but he could not stay with them.

"Why humans -- and Grif -- out by our mountain?" Bink asked when everyone was done eating.

"We're on the hunt, little one," Grif said. "There's nasty folks about, callin' themselves the Destructors. They had a camp nearby, you might have seen them?"

Kra glanced over to Bink, who shared his look of concern. "Who are these Destructors?" Kra asked.

Wardan frowned. "Cultists, who believe the wasteland will become paradise after purging the remnants of life from it."

Despoilers!

Kra shuddered as his voices chimed in. "We saw them, shortly before we met you."

"That's why we found their camp empty then?" Rilea asked.

"In a manner of speaking," the dragon responded. "They fled from me without much provocation."

It was Nellik and Wardan's turn to share a worried glance. "You just ... frightened them off?"

"After killing one of them, yes," Kra admitted.

"That doesn't sound like them at all," Nellik said, stroking his chin. "What did you do?"

"Kra be very scary," Bink said. "Fall from sky like rock, then jump up and bite one when they get close!"

"These are fanatics," Nellik reasoned. "Nothing short of their calling could sway them from their purpose."

A feeling of dread washed over Kra. "They did mention a prophecy that warned of a stone dragon before they ran off."

The three raiders stared at him for a moment. Kra shifted his paws under him.

"I don't think that's coincidence," Wardan said. "You told me earlier that dragons exile their Gifted ..."

"I am not Gifted, I am Twisted."

"What?" Rilea and Nellik said at the same time.

"Call it what you will, but you survived," Wardan continued. "This curse they put on you should have killed you long ago, but you lived. There might be something to that."

Kra growled. "I survived because the Mother allowed, no other reason. I am on borrowed time, and that time is precious to me."

"It might save us all," Wardan told him, looking him in the eye. "These Destructors are threatening all of Drakvald, and if they are afraid of you, that gives us a chance to fight back."

Kra tried to look away. This was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He ended up just looking into Rilea's blindfolded visage, as she peered at him with curiosity.

"Kra, why did you come to Drakvald?" Rilea asked.

"To survive, nothing more."

"Those people that you scared away will not go away if you ignore them. They will return someday with more, and you will not survive then," she warned.  "We came here to find where they are hiding, but with you we might accomplish so much more."

"The only thing that follows me is death."

"And Bink," the goblin put in.

"Bink is wise," Rilea smiled.  "I can tell even now that you are more powerful than we have seen, and that is saying something."

If only they knew, Kra thought, they would not want me. They would flee, and rightly so.

We will show them, if that's what you want...

      

We will show you too, Tyradus...

There's nothing to fear...

Before Kra could exclaim in fear, something crumbled near the back, causing a splash in the pool. Rilea stood up to examine the back of the room, and Kra tried to block her path with a paw. Rilea regarded him curiously.

"Please no, don't go back there, it could kill you," he told her, fear tinging his voice.

She was about to question him again when her features contorted curiously, facing the back of the cave with her nose in the air.  She looked back at Kra, her eyebrows raised in a mix of surprise and awe. "Do I smell flowers?"

"It's ... not what it seems," Kra tried to explain.

"How could there be flowers here? It's all stone!" Grif said. 

"Kra, let me look," Rilea said. "I promise we will be fine."

"You don't understand," Kra said desperately, but she expertly hopped over his warding paw. She knelt over by his pond, as if to pick something up.

"You say you are followed by death, but that's so far from the truth. Even the water comes to you, Kra." Rilea turned to face him, holding up a tiny white flower, one of the many that had suddenly and forcibly surfaced at the edge of the water. "No wonder you are feared by those who worship death, your Gift brings life."

Kra shook his head. "They are dangerous, they bring the plants and kill ... it always happens. Bink saw it tear his tribe apart, tell them!"

"Bink, is this true?" Rilea asked.

Bink nodded, hesitantly.  "But we attacked Kra, hunted him.  I no attack him, they don't attack Bink."

Rilea smiled a disconcertingly confident smile. Kra wanted to refute the goblin's words, but realization dawned on him that there was nothing he could say. Bink was right, he was never harmed by the plants. In truth he had only seen one of the other goblins actually die. Had he feared them so long that he did not understand that they protected him?

"You poor thing," Rilea said, putting a hand on his stony face, "you don't control it, do you? Your Gift runs rampant, and you just have to watch as it all unfolds around you, helpless to change it."

The dragon drew himself up away from her, glaring. "What would you know of my curse?"

Rilea reached up and removed her blindfold. Wardan moved to stop her, but it was too late. Kra had a brief look at her silver eyes before blood started to run down her face like tears, seeping from the corners of her eyes.  The smell of her blood was the saddest thing Kra had ever smelled.

"We're more alike than you thought, wouldn't you say?" She said, closing her eyes. She slowly wrapped her sackcloth strap back around her eyes as Kra let the realization dawn on him. "Like it or not, it is your Gift. It may harm you but it may also save you. I don't know if it's true that you can stop these despoilers, but they seem to know more about your power than you do. Come with us, we head out tomorrow for Black Needles. There might be something out there for you."

"Strange, you call them despoilers." Kra's eyes narrowed. "Do you dream of the trees, and the sun?"

She nodded. "We will never see that happen if they get their way."

Kra considered her a moment longer. He then stood up, and made his way to the cave entrance. He looked up to the swirling clouds above, trying to imagine what the sky would look like without them. He looked back into the crowded cave where five eager faces awaited his words.

"Bink, this home is no longer safe, wouldn't you say?"

Bink processed his words a moment, then nodded. "Bad humans could come back."

Kra's head lilted to one side listlessly. "I think might find a new place to live out in Black Needles."

Bink grinned, catching on. "But how we get there?"

Kra turned back to Wardan, who wore a knowing smile. "Do you think you could show us the way?"

"For saving my life? The least I could do."

*********

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The Living Stone, Chapter 3

Bink wiped his stubby hand across his broad forehead, flicking the rivulets of sweat from his fingers.  He retrieved the spear he tucked under his other arm, which was adorned with a crude shield crafted from a piece of sturdy shale.  He once again hefted the weapon, testing its weight as compared to the light javelins he was accustomed to.  It was a thick sturdy shaft with a long head, but the head was much too heavy to be thrown.  Chief Rangus had told him it was not meant to be thrown, but thrust.  The head was made of a stone far too rare to waste it with one strike.  Bink could see little difference between the stone of the spearhead and regular stone, except that it was black and rough, unlike the flat stone used for javelins.  Rangus himself supposedly crafted the spearhead, and twenty one others like it. 

Those other spears bobbed up and down behind Bink, the twenty other warriors Rangus had selected to hunt the dragon.  Out of the hundred goblins in the Rockjaw tribe, only forty were worthy warriors, and Bink was not one of them.  Yet here he was, marching in front of the twenty strongest goblins in his tribe, next to his leader no less.  He was only supposed to hunt for food and scout, he was not supposed to be fighting huge dragons that ate his friends.

He looked up at Rangus, the larger, stronger goblin plodding forth like the miles meant nothing.  Though his spear was longer, the head was the same as all the others, with the addition of a sticky, smelly black substance that Bink could not identify.  When he asked why only Rangus’ spear had been treated, his chief grinned at him, and said, “It’s a surprise for dragon, will only work once.  No one else needs it.”  Bink had a feeling the Chief knew it would affect the dragon somehow, but then why not give it to everyone? 

Bink puzzled over this still as they approached the cleft the dragon lived at.  Rangus held up a hand for the others to halt, and turned to face his warriors.  “We wait,” he said, barely loud enough for all to hear.  “Bink will go to find dragon, but Bink says it hides well.”
           

“How you hide a dragon?” one of the closer warriors chuckled. 

Rangus glared at the transgressor, instantly silencing him.  “You callin’ Bink a liar?” he growled.  The Warrior shook his head emphatically.  Rangus stood up high as he could.  “Bink be the only one who saw dragon.  He tells me it hides real good, and Bink would not lie to Rangus.”  The chief spread his arms out wide.  “That because Rangus would not lie to you.  For goblins to live, the goblins must be strong.  Goblins get stronger with strong chief.  Strong chief trusts his warriors, and warriors trust him.  That is why old chief died, he was weak, lied and used you!  You feared him, hated him, but did what he said because he whipped you when you did not!”  Rangus narrowed his eyes, and met the gaze of all the goblins.  “Would you follow old chief to slay dragon?”

All of the warriors shook their heads.  Rangus grinned.  “You followed Rangus to dragon.  You trust Rangus.”  He thumped his hand to his chest.  “Rangus knows dragon may still kill some goblins, knows his friends may be eaten in front of him.”  He raised his spear above him.  “But know that Rangus will fight first, flee last, and be eaten right next to you!”

All of the goblins lifted their spears in salute, even Bink.  Had there been no need for quiet, Bink knew the goblin’s cheer would be heard for miles.

“Let me go in with Bink,” the warrior from earlier said.  “Bink be safe with me!”

“Not only you!” another goblin spoke up.  “Let me go too!”

Several others started to request to escort the brave Bink, but Rangus raised both his hands for silence.  “Bink must go alone.  When he finds dragon, he comes back, we will make plan then.”

“Why wait, chief?” a goblin at the back said.  “So many goblins can kill one dragon easy!  You said so!”

Rangus laughed.  “Dragon can still kill us all, no matter how many goblins.  Twenty goblins or more still get killed by Rumbler, yes?  But only five goblins hunt Rumblers, make ‘em angry and get ‘em runnin.  Rumbler run so fast, it don’t see the hole the goblin’s dug ‘til it’s too late. Then all it takes is one spear, and dead Rumbler.”  Rangus tapped his forehead.  “Numbers don’t kill dragon.  Traps and plans kill dragon.”

Many of the assembled goblins nodded, grinning deviously.  Bink had hunted many times for Rumblers, only goblins stupid enough to fall in the hole with the Rumbler got killed.  He had seen some of the supplies Rangus had asked to be brought with them, and knew he had a plan, but he did not know what kind of plan killed a dragon.

Rangus finally turned to Bink.  “Warrior Bink, you know what to do.  We wait for good news.”

Bink proudly saluted his chief, and made his way to the cliffs.  He climbed into the cleft, descending the way he came in the day before, following the walls to the spot where he knew the dragon hid. 

Bink soon stood just around the corner from the dragon’s hiding place.  His heart beat echoed in his head, and his mouth dried out just thinking of the huge beast around the bend.  His tribe was counting on this for food, though, and that thought kept his feet shuffling to the edge of the wall.  With all the courage his little heart could muster, he glanced around the corner, expecting the beast to roar in his face.

All that remained was the rubble surrounding its old hiding spot.

Bink felt all the blood drain from his face, and his heart beat faster.  Where did the dragon go?  Where could the dragon go?  That’s when Bink remembered the beast had great big wings, big enough to take it far away.

The little goblin hurried out of the cleft, running right up to his chief.  Rangus took notice of his approach, and stood up from the stone he sat on.

“What is wrong, Warrior Bink?” Rangus asked.  “You find dragon?  He after you?”

“Dragon gone, sir!”  Bink exclaimed.  “He had wingses!  He must’ve flown far away when Bink and Dogo find him!”

Many of the goblins shouted angrily at Bink, but Rangus held up his hand for silence.  He scanned the surrounding area, his eyes cast up high. 

“One … Two … Three nests.” the chief counted, pointing out tall spires amongst the crags.  He shook his head.  “Dragon is smart.  Won’t fly around Chiraptors.”

“But he’s not here!”  one of the warriors said.  “What do we do?”

“He not fly, so he walks!” Rangus explained angrily.  “What you do to find prey on ground, hmm?  You find tracks!  Dragon no different!  We still can find dragon if we hurry!”  He pointed to a group of warriors nearby.  “You five take Bink and look for nearby tracks.  Dragon still might fly where there are no nests, but if we know which way he goes, we find him other ways.”  Rangus turned away as Bink went to join the other warriors.  “We will find dragon, and when we do, we prove our tribe is strongest of all goblins!”

 ********

Kra stood transfixed in a clearing covered in soft grass, staring at the strange plants surrounding him.  The mosses and grasses he had seen before paled in comparison to these behemoths.  The tallest weeds barely grew past his ankles, these plants stood well taller than him, broad at their bases and tapering as crooked, arm-like appendages reached out from centers in all directions around them.  At the tips of fingers of these arms sprouted large, flat blades of grass splayed out wide.  These grass blades were on most of the plants, but for each one the shape of the blades was different.  There were so many different shapes, sizes, and colors, Kra felt that he could spend ages looking over all of them and not find any two plants with the exact same greens.

Furthermore, these were very tangibly living creatures.  They made no movement save for the rustling of their greens when the wind brushed them together, a musical sound that almost sounded like a thousand whispers spoken at once.   Despite this, Kra could feel their roots digging through the earth, feel the subtle change of the air as they breathed in and out, and hear the pulse of their life force permeate the land.  Everything they touched felt more alive.

This was what Kra was searching for.  Life that did not hate, did not want, did not do anything but live for the sake of living.  He understood the balance of living in his heart, the balance they kept going daily.  These could only be one thing, something lost to time that he’d only heard tales of …

So, these are what trees look like …

Kra’s eyes snapped open.  His breath came in loud gasps, his ears filled with the sound of his heartbeat.  Terrified of his lack of composure, he struggled to regulate his breathing and relax himself.  His paw trembled as he held it up to his chest, and his wings tried to spread on instinct, brushing the sides of his little underground cubby.  He cursed his carelessness; he had become lax in the past few days since finding the underground pool.

Kra hated when he dreamt.  It made him forget where he was, made him feel secure.  He learned quickly after his exile to banish his dreams, to be asleep yet awake.  He was able to repress his dreaming out in the open, where there was always risk of attack.  When he took the cave as his home, however, the dreams returned.  Ever since he was Twisted, the dreams showed him the strangest things.  Things he had never seen, but felt were familiar in his heart.  The trees were the newest things, and by far the most striking vision.  But no matter how beautiful or entrancing the dream, he despised the fact that his body was forgetting important survival instincts mere days after finding a safe place to sleep.

His breathing had gotten better now but his heart still pounded and his paw still trembled.  Knowing the only thing that would work, he placed his paw over the other, the dragon position of prayer, and whispered a quick, quiet prayer to the Motherwyrm.  The familiar words and motions relaxed him enough that his pulse slowed, but he still was uneasy.

Kra crawled out of his cubby, into the expansive cavern, stretching his limbs and spreading his wings as wide as they would go.  His cubby rested on the lowest of three shelves, practically on the same level as the deep pool.  The other shelves were steep ridges carved out by the water over time as it had receded.  There was room enough on this shelf alone, the smallest of the three, for ten dragons his size, and at least twice as much on the next one up.

The roof was domed near the top where Kra had unearthed the pool, but descended rapidly as the shelves lowered the floor.  The ceiling near the pool was lower, but there was still enough room for Kra to take off from the bottom and fly out from the mouth he dug out.  There were ancient water stains up on the high walls, and Kra theorized that the pool once filled the whole cavern, which may have been an overground lake, but had receded over time.  He was not sure what buried it, but it was clear that his new home had not seen life in many years. 

He reached the edge of the pool and thrust his muzzle into the water, which just barely reached the edge of the shelf.  He drank deeply, the clear water rushing into his throat and cooling his whole body.  At last, his nerves settled and he sighed as he slumped into a relaxed position, resting his bulky body and spreading out his limbs, dipping one paw into the pool and swishing his tail along the smooth stone.  He let himself have some time to space out in the mornings.  After all, he was safe here.  Nothing ever came close to the underground pool, save the darcats that had ambushed him when he found the cave.  Not that anything could reach the cavern floor from the mouth without surviving a hundred foot fall, and there were no chiraptors nearby that could stumble upon his sanctuary.

It occurred to him that he got very angry with himself for lowering his defenses when he was asleep, but not when he was awake.  If his instincts told his body it was alright to dream, why was he so angry about it?  He let himself go for great amounts of time resting by the pool, knowing that he was safe, and his cubby wasn’t even visible from the entrance, so why should he get so angry?

In answer, he turned to the dreams themselves.  They gave him a peace that he did not deserve.  They made him feel at ease, and that was not acceptable.  He still had a mission, and such a peace was not what he needed to achieve his goals.

Swishing his paw about in the water, he lifted his head from the edge, remembering his experiment.  He lifted himself up from the water’s edge, and strode along the shore to the left hand wall.  There, just below the edge, Kra had made a long vertical scratch on the otherwise smooth wall, partially submerged in the pool.  He placed his paw along the wall, feeling through his bloated scales for the notch he had made the day before.  It was no longer at the surface, and he searched out the length of the wall above the water and found nothing.  He dipped his paw into the water and noticed immediately that the horizontal scratch he had made yesterday was below the surface now, by about an inch.  He stood back up, puzzled by the discovery.  Something was causing the water to rise again, and it had been receding before he had found it.  But ever since his dreams had returned, the water level was steadily rising. 

He wondered if the two were not mutually exclusive for a moment, then dismissed the notion.  If the Motherwyrm was truly trying to tell him something, why would she waste time with some water spring?

He considered that for a moment.  Now that he thought of it, human settlements often gathered around wells like his, because of their scarcity.  Dragons could thrive for long periods without water, but when a spring was found a clan would settle for as long as it lasted.  His clan’s spring had been found when Kra was only a week old, and had only run out mere days before he was exiled.  But somehow, human settlements could make their wells outlast several generations.  Few dragons now grew larger than Kra, and the amount a dragon needed to consume in a week was about the same as a human, because of the dragons’ efficient metabolism.  Why were their springs drying up where the humans’ lasted?

Left with many questions with no one to answer them, Kra peered up to the entrance to his private sanctuary.  He felt very lonely, for the first time for a very long time.  He was not worth much to anyone the way he was; men who came upon him were more likely to kill him for food, and any dragon that saw that he was Twisted would not even look at him.  No, Kra was completely alone.  It was the first time he realized it; survival had taken the place of contemplation long ago.  Even if he somehow found out what had taken his parents’ lives and destroyed it, where was he to go?  Was he destined to become what his clan had made him, a cursed beast that would one day outgrow its own limbs and become just another dead rock?

Shaking the despairing thoughts from his mind, he beat his wings and flew up to the entrance.  His food was depleted; the remnants of the darcats he killed were last night’s supper.  He needed more food before too long.  It was not likely that he would find another bounty as big as the darcats who had intruded upon him before, but Kra had learned to make a little last a long time.

He shot past the entrance to the cave, rising high into the sky.  He surveyed quickly the crags of Argassa, noting the possible hiding places for prey.  He would not stay in the sky, the threat of swarming chiraptors, bats that excelled in taking even dragons down in mid flight, was too great to hunt from the sky.  He would scout from the air, then hunt on the ground.

As he flew he noted in the west the cleft he had encountered the goblins.  He had not realized how near his new home had been to his old one.  He was tempted to return to search it out for prey, but saw a better spot out of the corner of his eye.  Just to the north in the middle of a field of stone crags was a place where two stony outcroppings met, creating shade under the overhang.  If he was lucky, the place would have a nest of stone rats or shufflebird eggs.  Fixing the spot in his mind, he dove back to the ground to begin his hunt. 

 *******

If Rangus had never believed rocks could fly he surely believed it now.  It was indeed a dragon, but what kind of dragon had rocks for scales?  It mattered not, such a thing was still edible.  And if other tribes learned that Rangus and his goblins had taken down a dragon, he knew many would want to gather under his banner.

He pointed to the dragon in the sky, startling his warriors.  “It flies there!  We go now!  Make it mad and bring it into the open!”

“Make the dragon … mad?” Bink asked, standing at his side.

“Yes,” Rangus replied.  “Throw rocks, yell at it, and taunt it.  Dragons have pride, easy to provoke.  Easy to trick, to lure into traps.”  Rangus grinned.  “Hunting starts now, boys!  Challenge the dragon, and he will come!”

Kra approached the overhang cautiously, eyes hungrily awaiting the sight of his prey.  He was practically upon the overhang when he heard the sound of running footsteps drawing closer from behind him.  Kra turned back to the overhang, thinking of using it for cover, but before he could move a large rock hurtled through the air and pelted the side of his muzzle.  He whipped his head around angrily, back in the direction of the footsteps, where the rock seemed to have come from.  Standing out in the open were several goblins, now cackling with delight. 

“You gots him, Drak!” one of them jeered.  “Right on stupid face!”

“Hard not to miss,” another said.  “Dragon big as mountain itself!”

“Stupid, fat dragon!  You must eat rocks to get so big!” yet another cried, flinging a smaller stone Kra’s way.  “Have all the rocks you want!”

All the goblins picked up rocks and began to barrage the dragon, all the while jeering and cackling like children taunting a wounded animal. 

Kra was shocked at their audacity, and though the hail of stones bounced harmlessly off his hide, their puerile taunts fueled his anger like never before.  The nerve of these creatures, treating him like some kind of animal!  Did they think themselves superior to him?  Were they just goading him to react?  Surely they did not think themselves a match for him, did they?

Part of him did not want to sink to their level.  He wanted to just ignore them, but the burning in his chest bade him to stand up, not for himself, but for all dragonkind.

“You want to throw rocks?” Kra growled.  “Fine!”  He turned back around to the overhang and stomped over to it, grasping the nearest outcropping with his forepaws.  He twisted and heaved at the rock face, easily dislodging a massive section and depositing it on the ground in front of him.  The goblins ceased their stone throwing and watched as he hefted the boulder he had dislodged, balancing on his back legs and bringing it to rest on his chest.  His distorted scales threatened to overbalance him, but through raw anger and determination he held his balance long enough to launch the stone using both his forepaws, sending it hurtling awkwardly through the air in the goblins’ direction.  It barely reached them, but it was enough to scatter them. 

“Go away!” Kra roared.  “I’ve had enough of you!”  The dragon turned away, thinking the goblins scared off.  Another stone bounced off his back and he spun back around.

“Stupid dragon doesn’t know when he’s beat!” one goblin shouted, standing atop the same rock Kra tossed at them, another rock in his hand.

All his instincts told him that something was not as it seemed, but his pride raged within him.  They were mocking him, and now they would pay.  He threw himself forward, snarling and baring his teeth, rabid with rage.  These pests were going to be crushed. 

The goblins ran, as he expected, but did not scatter, instead weaving around the knifelike outcroppings in an attempt to confuse him.  His bulk did not allow him to navigate the crags as they did, but he smashed through the parts of the landscape that they could avoid.  They darted into a rocky crevice, almost too tight for Kra to manage, but by tucking his wings up high, he managed to follow without losing much speed.  He was nearly upon them, his jaws agape and his pride hungry for blood, when he charged straight between two high outcroppings.

The net was not meant to befuddle his legs, but instead his wings, held aloft by several other goblins.  His maddened rush tore them from their perches, but his wings were clamped down by the fibrous net weighted by stones.  He stopped his pursuit of the goblins to tear at the net uselessly with his bloated claws.  Kra’s efforts ceased when he heard the goblins cry out, and the rush of footsteps over the hard ground.

His heart sank.  He had run headlong and headstrong right into their trap. 

The first few came into view from around the corner, brandishing spears.  Kra began to back out, worried that the tight space would hinder his fighting ability, when another swarm of goblins darted out from the shadows behind him, all wielding similar weapons. 

Though his situation appeared dire, Kra was not truly concerned.  His thick hide was stronger than the stone that goblins habitually used to make their spears, so all he had to do was strike wisely and keep his eyes on the exit.  Once out, he was fairly certain that he could outdistance them long enough to break the net and fly away.  He would need to spend a few days away from his home, but he could eventually come back to the underground lake.

The first of the goblins came charging up to him and thrust its spear for his chest.  The dragon maneuvered his foreleg in between the weapon and his vital, but mostly paid it no heed.

Until he heard a sharp crack and a searing pain shot up his arm.

Kra’s roar was low and sorrowful.  Not in ten years had anything broken his skin!  Not even the tearing of Darcat claws incited such an awful sensation!

The goblin tore the spear out, yelling its triumph, and prepared a second strike.  Kra was not about to allow it, and lifted his paw to swipe at the miscreant, when a series of spear strikes behind him began cutting up his hind legs.  Kra stumbled, dropping his attacking paw to steady himself, and the first goblin and two more stuck their merciless spearheads into his forelegs and torso. 

Kra was in danger.  The entrance to the crevice seemed miles away now.  He tried desperately to sweep away the offenders from behind with his tail to clear a path, but his movements were too slow to get purchase enough to knock one of them away.  He kicked out behind him once and received a crippling stab to his upper thigh as punishment.  The despairing dragon thrashed his head to discourage the forward attackers, but they darted away from his cumbersome movements without much effort, back to resume the attack before he could even twist himself back into a defensive stance. 

Kra’s heart pounded.  More and more nicks and wounds dug through a hide he had thought impervious, and more of the blood on the ground was his than the goblins.  His defensive tactics were no use where there was nowhere to move around. 

His front right paw suddenly screamed in pain, but when he moved to withdraw it, he found his foot pinned to the crevice floor.  He looked down and to his shock discovered that his bloated paw had been impaled to the floor by a particularly big and vicious looking goblin, standing about three quarters the height of a man, almost two heads above most of the goblins surrounding him. 

The goblin’s grin was the worst thing that Kra had ever experienced.  It was so smug and superior, so full of itself, he wanted to just step on the creature to spare himself the agony of that glaring grin. 

“I am Rangus, dragon!” the goblin spoke.  The other goblins around him stopped attacking and cheered.  Kra attempted to swat at the devilish little beast with his free paw, but that one and his back left were instantly and almost simultaneously pinned by waiting goblins.  Kra’s howl seemed to make the smug goblin swell with pride.  Kra’s balance finally gave way, and he crashed down to the ground, pinned and humiliated. 

“You are strong,” the goblin continued.  “These spears made of old metal!  Not a lot left, you know.  I thought spears might be no good against that hide, but they strong enough against stone it seems.”

He moved back, and Kra watched him with tears of rage mingling with blood dripping down his face, creating a smell he did not like at all.  The smell of defeat, he thought.  The goblin called Rangus moved to a small goblin holding a different spear, who trembled as he handed it to his master.  The weapon was much larger and more suited to the bigger goblin.  As he brought it near, Kra could smell something different about it that made him struggle against his impaling bonds.  That spear was more dangerous somehow, made of the same materials, but stinking of ash and death.  Even with his renewed struggles, his wounds and exhaustion made him too weak to do more than twist feebly on the ground.

Tyradus …

Kra twisted to where he thought he heard a voice, but turned back as the smug goblin leader approached.

“Long ago, dragons were feared all over, bigger than mountains, breath like fire,” Rangus said in low voice.  “Where is your fire now, dragon?”

Kra growled low, and Rangus stepped up calmly, practically with biting distance, close enough for Kra to smell its breath.

“Would you like that fire back, dragon?” Rangus said quietly, almost teasingly.

Kra hissed at him.

The goblin chief’s eyes grew wild and he outstretched his hand, a torrent of crimson flame washing over Kra’s vision.  Everything on his face screamed out as the flame crawled up his nose, into his mouth, and around his eyes.  Kra writhed in pain as the sensation diminished, where Rangus still stood, terrible and arrogant.

“I have the fire now, dragon!” he roared, wreathing his hand in fire.  “I am gifted with flame, and you …” he stopped, bringing the spearhead to his fiery hand, igniting the substance around it and causing it to burn bright yellow, illuminating the dark crevice.  “You are the one who will burn!”  He hefted the spear to throw, and all the world seemed to slow for Kra.  He was out of strength.  He was ready now to give up and die.  Somehow he longed for this, a way out of the nightmare that he lived every day.

You can’t go like this …

We can help you …

Let us out, young one …

The voices!  Kra’s heart raced once more.  He thought they were gone!

This should not happen …

It isn’t right …

There is much left to do, Tyradus …

“No!  NO!” Kra began to scream, thrashing against his impaled wounds with renewed vigor.  “Let it be!  Let me die!”

Rangus began to laugh.  “You will die, dragon!”

You must not die …

We won’t let you give up!

Stand again … Embrace life!

“Please … no …” Kra whimpered, and he could feel the vibration in the stone, sense the stirring life, smell the land come to life beneath him.

“Chief!  What is that rumble?” the small goblin at the back cried out.  Rangus turned to regard him angrily then stopped as something caught his eye at the ground.  Kra’s very spirit almost left him when he saw what was poking out of the ground.

A small, green tendril of grass sprouted up at Rangus’ feet.

Tendrils began to appear everywhere, along the ground and across the walls of the rock.  Where once there was only dead rock there was now a flourishing of green life. 

“Get out of here!” Kra warned weakly.

Rangus looked to respond to him when one of the goblins behind Kra started screaming.  The dragon and the goblin leader both turned to the creature, his arms covered in twisting vines.  He was raised up by the tendrils, moving on their own accord, and the goblin, seeming to be in a great deal of agony, twisted and writhed as his verdant captors brought him higher.  All of a sudden they snapped taut, and the goblin let out a yelp.

The goblin warrior ripped in two with one sickening tear.

More vines erupted from the walls.  Goblins began to panic, scattering like insects from a fire.  Many more were caught by the twisting vines, some held aloft by their necks to suffocate, others simply battered and hurled away.

Rangus, in the midst of the struggle, thrashed the burning spear to keep the vines at bay, all the while trying to reassemble his troops in the overwhelming chaos.  None of the orders he shouted seemed to be heeded, all the goblins trying to get out alive.  A few loyal goblins managed to make their way to his side, keeping their leader safe.  But none of them were prepared for dealing with such a strange enemy, and for every vine that was chopped down, two more sprang out to strike back. 

Kra watched it all helplessly, terrified by the power of the plants around him.  The power, he knew deep inside, that came from him.  He did not want this!  His rage had driven him to violence, but no amount of pride was worth this bloodshed.  All he wanted now was for it to stop.

He looked about for anything that could help him, for some way to remove his restraints.  Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a single goblin standing away from it all, shivering in horror but trying to get close to his leader, a piece of slate being used as a shield on his arm.  Kra recognized the goblin as the one he had scared away in the cleft, too scrawny to be one of the warriors.

“You!  Bink is your name, right?”  Kra raised his voice above the carnage.  The frightened goblin’s eyes snapped in his direction and he nodded.  “Come here!  Help me or your friends are going to die!”

Bink looked from Kra to Rangus, who was slicing vines and scorching them with fire, unaware of the smaller goblin’s predicament.  Bink started moving toward Kra, keeping his eyes on the walls.  When Bink made it over to the dragon he meekly nodded his attention.

“Get these spears out of my paws!  If I can get away your allies will be safe!” Kra ordered.  “I’ll do what I can about the net on my wings!  Hurry!”

Bink looked nervously at Rangus, still occupied with the vines, then grabbed the spear in Kra’s right paw and yanked at it.  Kra growled as the spearhead tore back through his paw, and flexed his claws to make sure they worked.  The goblin went to work on the second of the spears, and Kra turned his attention to the net.  He craned his neck to see how badly his wings were tangled, and was surprised to see that they were not caught as badly as he thought, his wings were simply covered and held down by the weights.  He worked to smoothly maneuver his left wing outside its grasp through the blinding pain, and was easily able to shake it off his right.  By the time he was loose, the little goblin was already loosening the spear in his back foot.

“Bink!” Rangus roared.  Bink froze, and turned to his furious leader, the flames behind him casting an ominous glare.  “What you doing?”

“Dragon say let him go!  Dragon says it will stop if he goes!” Bink shouted back over the din of battle. 

“No!  Dragon must die!” Rangus insisted, swiping away a tendril with his blazing spear.  “We kill him, we strong ones now!”

“Not if all die!” Bink shouted.

“You let dragon go, we start hunt all over!  We hunt you too, little Bink!” Rangus threatened.

“I’m trying to save you!” Kra shouted.  “If I stay they’ll kill you all!”

“You lie, Dragon!” Rangus roared, beating back another vine and scorching it with a burst of fire.  “Do not believe him Bink!”

Bink’s face screwed up in frustration and fear.  Kra waited, giving the poor goblin a moment to face this difficult decision.  Impatient Rangus, however growled and thrust his burning spear directly at Kra’s eye, ready to be done with this impudent dragon.

Whatever powered Kra’s guardians did not like that at all.

Rangus’ spear hand was seized almost immediately by several vines, the weapon was grabbed and torn from his hands just as quickly.  A swarm of vines quickly took hold of all the chieftain’s limbs, and a single vine wrapped itself around his neck.  Rangus tried fighting back, fire spurting impotently from his hands and mouth, nowhere near the threatening vines. 

“Free me!” Kra practically screamed at the goblin.  “He’s going to die!”

“No!” Rangus managed to gurgle before his mouth was covered by the wrapping vine.

Bink looked back to the dragon, who had tears streaming down his eyes.  “I don’t want him to die!  Save him!  Save me!”

Bink turned a baleful look toward his leader.  Rangus’ fire was practically streaming from his eyes.  His limbs were all pulled taut, and the vines were looking to snap back any moment.

“Look out!”  Kra warned, and Bink turned to see three vines snaking toward him at an unsettling speed.

“For Rangus!” Bink screamed, putting both hands on the spear that impaled the dragon’s hind foot and ripping it free.

Kra wasted not even a second of his freedom.  He twisted the rest of the way around in the narrow crevice, snatching up the goblin that saved him with one wounded paw, heaving himself to his feet, and running as best he could with only three feet beneath him past the remaining fighting goblins.  He could already feel the plants activity dwindle beneath his feet, and soon heard the angry roars of the goblin chief.  As soon as his wings were clear of the walls, he pumped them with all of his might, and one agony filled moment later he was in the sky.

The goblin in his grasp twisted about, and Kra gently held him tighter.  “Be still, we’ll land soon and I’ll let you go!  We need to get far away as quickly as we can!” Kra shouted to the wind, and the squirming stopped.  He regretted the little goblin’s predicament.  No one should have to choose in a situation like that.  He cursed his whole existence then and there, for Bink and his allies, as well as for himself. 

“How?” he muttered to the wind.  “How can they still reach me after I was cursed?”  The last time the voices came to him was shortly after he had been changed, a mere few days before the ritual of salvation.

Kra flew past his den, planning to backtrack later.  For several more minutes he flew, as straight as he could manage.  He wanted to go on, but a throbbing ache in his left wing convinced him otherwise.  He imagined that he strained it with the extra effort, or maybe pulled it when it was caught in the net.  Either way, he needed to land before the pain overcame him.  Picking a safe spot some distance from the cave, he came to rest on a relatively flat stretch dotted by tall boulders.  He landed by one of the larger ones, and after depositing Bink, he leaned heavily on the huge stone for support.

Bink stood after collecting himself, and gazed at the huge dragon for a moment.  “You saved me, dragon,” was all he could mutter, his eyes full of wonder.  “You saved my clan, after we attack you.”

Kra shook his head.  “Your people have you to thank, Bink.”  He turned his face to the little goblin, trying to force a smile through his distorted features.  “If you had not reacted so quickly, none would be alive now.”

“But now, they hunt you,” Bink said, regret hanging in his voice.  “I wanted to run, leave you alone!  But Rangus say we kill you and we be most respected in Argassa.  We hunt you, almost kill you, why you save us?”

Kra sighed, his stone scale grinding against the boulder as he slumped down.  “I can’t say why.  I just did, really.”  He looked at his own wounds.  “I don’t like seeing others get hurt.  You must think me a liar, after I killed your friend, but it’s the truth.”

Bink shrugged.  “We hunt, some goblins die.  Most because they too stupid.”

Kra laughed weakly.  “What about you’re chief?  Was he stupid to hunt me?”

Bink thought a while on that one, and then shrugged.  “Chief Rangus strong.  Makes even little gobs like Bink feel strong.  We all thought we could win.”

Kra nodded.  “You might have.  But I am Twisted.  Something follows me, hurts those around me.  I am very dangerous, more so than any other dragon.”  He gave the little goblin a grave look.  “You are not safe with me, warrior.  Return to your people when you can.  I will leave your lands, and never return.”

Bink stood up as straight as he could and looked Kra right in the eyes.  “No, dragon, I will not.”

Kra regarded him strangely, cocking his head and propping himself up.  “Why?  You’ve seen what happens to those around me.”

“You save Bink, and all his people.  Bink’s pappy say, when someone give you hand, give your hand back.”  The goblin extended his tiny hand to the dragon, looking rather silly to Kra, but he was sincerely warmed by the gesture.  Not in ages had anyone treated him with such respect.

“Bink will help dragon,” he went on.  “Bink has nowhere left; his tribe will hunt him like food.  Dragon leaves, Bink leaves too.”

“Not scared I might eat you?” Kra asked.

“If dragon needs to eat Bink,” he answered, straightening again, “then Bink will try to be tasty.”

Kra shook his head.  “Chief Rangus has lost a loyal warrior today indeed.”  He stood again, testing his injuries.  His forepaws and back paw felt tender still, but the deeper cuts and punctures were almost completely healed.  His wing flexed normally without spasms.  His recovery had been quick as always, the only boon to his curse.

“Come, we should find a new home.  My old cave is no longer safe.”  Kra turned to the south and started moving.

“Not that way!” Bink warned.  Kra turned to regard him again.  “That way leads to more goblins.  Other tribes will be after you soon, after Bink’s tribe tells about their hunt.”  The goblin folded his arms, considering his own words.  “Rangus might make other tribes fight for him, many more next time.”

Kra saw no flaw in the goblin’s logic.  “Well then, companion, where to?”

Stunned momentarily by being considered for his opinion, Bink stood quietly in thought.  “I say north!” he blurted suddenly, his beady eyes lighting up.  “Drakvald!  No goblin wants to be in dwarf lands!”

“Then why do you want to go?”

“Where you never look for goblins, dragon?  Nowhere near dwarves!” he said, cackling gleefully.

Kra conceded, thinking the goblin much cleverer than he seemed at first.  “Fine, we will go to Drakvald.”

Bink nodded, starting to stride in that direction proudly.  Kra shook his head and took one long stride to stand in front of him.  He offered his paw as a step to his back.  “Get on.  At your pace it will take us a week to get out of here.”

Bink nodded and clamored up the dragon’s scales, coming to rest at the base of his neck, before his wings.  “Does dragon … have name?”

Kra hesitated.  “No.  My name was taken from me when I was cursed.  I no longer have the right to use it.  If other dragons must refer to me they only call me Kra.”

“Kra … That is strong name,” Bink said, obviously pleased with the abrupt syllable.

Kra reflected on the irony.  Bink would not approve so much if he knew that the name Kra was given to dragons whose clans wanted them to disappear. 

In the draconic language, Kra meant nothing.

But to one little goblin, it now meant everything.

*********

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