The Living Stone, Chapter 8.01 - The Dragon and The Devil

Well, instead of making you wait for full chapters, I decided that I will post sections as they are completed, up to three times a week. This gives me time to work on Twinsoul Part 2 as well.  Thanks for being patient, I hope you enjoy!

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Rage. Twisting, frothing, rending, scarring, vulcanizing rage was the only thing keeping Vengaralix alive. It pounded in his chest, keeping blood flowing to his broken limbs and wings. It burned the fog away from his bleeding eyes, searing red permanently into his vision. It roared in his mind so fiercely that it drowned out the echoes of pain.

Somehow, after crashing down off the mountains, he managed to drag himself into a crevice to keep safe. Days later, he had stopped bleeding but his ability to move was no more improved. Unable to change his fate, his mind had begun to distort. Death had spared his body, but left his mind ripe for madness.

Only one word remained coherent throughout his torment: kra. The nothing had done this, beyond all reason. The mere thought festered like a virulent rot in his mind, disintegrating his grip on reality.

So when a man stood in front of him as he faded in and out of consciousness, he took it as a hallucination. The reality of the man was made clear by the heel of his boot coming to rest between the dragon's eyes. Vengaralix growled and tried to bite at the offender, barely managing to snap his jaws defiantly.

The man scoffed. "Still alive, then. Not bad, for someone pitiful enough to be pushed of a cliff by nothing."

The gurgling in Vengaralix's throat was supposed to be a roar.

Now the impudent man laughed. "You're right to be angry, it wasn't very fair, was it? You are strong for your kind, in this age where your power wanes. The nothing should have never stood a chance. Why was he able to strike you down?"

"Goblin," Vengaralix hissed.

"No." The man's yellow eyes glinted from beneath long dark hair. "That was a lucky shot and you know it. The goblin was insignificant. The kra has power, power that his people cursed him for, just because he was different. He's better than you, even better because your people cursed him."

"Wrong ..."

"What's that?" the man put a hand to his ear. "Could you speak up?"

"Living stone are usurpers of what little magic remains," the dragon hissed out, somehow finding the ability to speak returned to him. "The world dies more with each curse that falls on us. They must return to stone or the world can never recover."

"So true," the man nodded. "But power is power. It's what made him strong and you weak, why he won, and you ..." he leaned in dangerously close. "...lost."

"He will die." Vengaralix managed to raise his head shakily, declaring his intent with as much strength as he could muster.

The man's grin was cruelly comforting. "I'm glad you feel that way." He swept down in a low bow. "Many call me the Forerunner. I have a vested interest in seeing this particular nothing made even more nonexistant. You and I seem to have common ground in that regard."

The dragon narrowed his eyes.

"If you want, I can lead you to incredible power, surpassing even the most powerful Kra."

"My people would never allow it," the crippled dragon said.

"What matters more, Vengaralix? Your kind's aversion to personal power, or putting that wretch in his place?"

"He will die!"

The cruelty in the man's grin gave way to maddening glee. He gestured a black gloved hand for Vengaralix to rise. Compelled to try and stand, the dragon found suddenly that his body was whole once more, rising elegantly off the ground, and out of the tiny crack he was hiding.

"It's time you met some friends of mine, Vengaralix. They will show you all you need to make the kra regret resisting his curse."

Did I Ever Tell You About ... Empty Days?

Welcome to a new segment on Cael's Tales: Did I Ever Tell You About?

Here is where I'll place stories either unfinished or just started, little tidbits of things to come, and stuff that doesn't fall into other categories. As always, let me know what you think in the comments!

Today's DIETYA is the beginning of a story I've titled Empty Days. Enjoy!

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            The nights in Nyrath were getting cold.  Frost was not yet on the ground but the trees were bare, splayed limbs stretching upward in agony.  The sun did not tarry, rushing to complete is journey across the sky, leaving the moon to linger, cold and steely.  She knew it would only get colder, too. 

Were she still in the wild, she would know how much time was left until winter truly began, but she no longer had the luxury of keeping to the wilds.  The last of her old friends had left, going to find a new place in the world.  She would need to do the same, but there was nowhere to begin.  This town was the only place that had not rejected her, its low walls a mockery of the shelter she craved. 

Syanith hated the cold, she hated being hungry, and she hated being alone.  But waiting was the part she hated most.

She sat on the cold stone floor of an alleyway in the manner of Shayaths, her tail-body curled in a tight coil below her.  The last gift she was given, a warm and sturdy cloak, enclosed her like a blanket, hiding her form from vicious eyes, as well as her serpentine head.  Her nose poked out beneath the hood, but it was narrow enough that she might be mistaken for a Darathrek dragon, a dragon with human features.  Only if someone saw her large, yellow eyes with long vertical pupil would her identity be known.

Most observers would call a Shayath a large snake with arms, likening them to the vile Yuan-ti.  But cautious eyes might note that a humanoid torso connected the head and tail-body, ending just below the pelvis.  Though her form was serpentine, she had very human features.  Without her ventral scales and green skin, she could pass as a beautiful slender human female. Under normal circumstances, she would have found a suitor among her own people in a distant village, making a life as a hunter or a ceremonial dancer. 

But along the sides of her head and neck were a fold of skin and scales, much like the hood of some venomous snakes.  This was a sign of bad luck for Shayath, as it was the hooded ones that lead to the death of the Empire of Shay, the apex of her people’s culture.  To them, her bloodline represented was the reminder of what they had lost, and none but her own family, now gone, would ever see her as anything but dangerous.

Movement at the mouth of the alley made her cringe, but all that stood there was a curious stray cat.  It meowed quaintly at her, its eyes seeking food.  She relaxed, and held forth a hand, coaxing its interest.  It started forward cautiously, sniffing at her hand.  She reached out and stroked its coat, soft despite its predicament.  It purred disarmingly, rubbing its head on her hand and stepping closer.

It was so close, just a little bit more.  It was so small, so gentle, and did not suspect a threat.

She was so hungry…

But it moved first.  The stray cat leaped up to her lap, making her cloak its perch and curling up with little fuss.  It was not hungry, it was cold.

That’s a strange question, Sya.

But if anyone would know, master…

It’s not really important.

It is to me!

If that is true, I can’t give you an answer.  You seek it every day, in all you do, in every person you meet, even if they are your enemy.

“Do you have the answer?” she whispered to the cat as it dozed.  “The meaning of life?”

The cat only purred.  She continued to stroke its fur, the warmth of another creature more filling to her at that moment than any meal.  In time the cat’s breathing evened out as it slept, and she at last found the mind to sleep.

She found the morning with the cat’s warmth replaced by the sun’s rays, strengthening her though the air was frigid.  She peered about in a dreary daze, searching for a sign of the cat.  It seemed as though their partnership had ended, as she saw no trace of the warm feline.  Brushing the fur it left behind as a present from her cloak, she uncoiled and peered into the street beyond her secluded alley. 

It was still too early for people it seemed, the empty stalls and lifeless buildings seeming haunted by the morning mist.  She glided out into the street freely, observing it all from this new angle.  She paused in front of a vendor’s stall, placing a hand on the dried out wooden counter, wondering who would pass by this merchant, who would stop and talk with him as they would an old friend, before selecting one of his wares and shrewdly bartering a fair or fairer price. 

She imagined this one sold fresh apples, picked daily from an orchard not far from town.  They would look so bright and crisp in the morning light.  The merchant would ask her if she wanted one, and yes, she would.  Two coppers a piece?  She would place three coppers on the counter, telling him that would be fair for two apples.  He might frown, at first, but clearly he had much more apples than the other vendors; he could afford to lower his prices.  Nodding, he would proffer the apples, and she would thank him, promising to return the next day.

Coldly she came to realize how vulnerable she was out on the street.  Her hand withdrew from the stall, as if pulling it away from a rotted corpse.  Turning away, she could feel her eyes burn with emotion, and she lowered her stature, using less of her tail-body to hold herself up. She glided swiftly down the street, looking for a new alley. 

A short way down the road she came upon a tavern and her heart leapt.  She took the alley next to it, only to find that it was blocked off by a locked wooden gate, built high.  She did not have the heart to break it, and easily lifted herself up to the top, standing on the very edge of her tail. 

With acrobatic ease, the lady-snake lifted herself up onto the top, hand-standing over the fence.  The cloak dropped down over her head, and she was thankful that no one was around to see the tattered cloths she wrapped around her chest and thighs to barely conceal her breasts and shame.  She lifted her tail fluidly above her torso, and flipped over the fence, holding her weight easily and slowly lowered herself until her tail touched the alley floor before finally letting go on the other side of the gate.  Exhilarated by her little workout, she slid forth to the edge of the building, peering around the corner.

A well sat in the middle of the back lot, and she longed for a clean cold drink of water, but she kept still, watching the whole area before moving.  Next to the building was a large bin, exactly what she had hoped to find.  Though it would be mostly filled with refuse, there was undoubtedly a few morsels she could make into a meal. 

But she remained still.  Lying at the back door to the tavern and only a few feet away from the bin was a large dog, still asleep and softly whimpering in its dreams. 

She considered her options.  Briefly the hungry predator considered eating the dog.  She refused that part of her obstinately in this case.  Though she longed for live prey, this canine had a purpose here, and she would be doing no good to the owner of the tavern by killing his security.  Besides, she imagined that perhaps the cat would sneak in, creeping up to the surly dog, batting its nose and scampering away before it snapped awake, barking its firm opinion of its nose being used as a toy.  The cat might be sad that its unwilling friend was gone, and that broke her heart just enough to change her mind.

Bringing herself as low to the ground as her ample chest would allow, she slithered slowly toward the wooden bin.  Now that her nose was closer to it, she could smell what she hoped were a few scraps of meat.  Her eyes never left the large black hound dozing on the steps, and her heart raced as she realized how close she was to the animal.  Her stomach ached as she noticed that the dog was certainly well fed, but she quickly shifted her attention to back to the bin. 

Lifting herself up higher, she opened the top, recoiling momentarily at the stench that wafted out.  Steeling her nose, she leaned in close an starting rooting through the refuse as quietly as she could.  After few moments of sifting, she came across several large bones that were the source of the smell, and she frowned.  Undeterred, she dug deeper, and was rewarded with a few bruised apples. 

Quickly, she glided over to the well, hoisting the rope on her own rather than using the noisy crank.  The bucket clattered very little on its way up, as she kept her hoists even and slow.  At last she was rewarded with a bucket full of clean clear water.  She brought the whole thing up to her mouth and tilted it back, taking in gulp after gulp of refreshing liquid.  After finishing her draught, about half the bucket remained.  She used what little remained to wash her food, as well as her garbage covered hands and arms. 

The dark bruises on the fruit where the pulp was mushy did not make it any less desirable to her than it must have to the tavernkeep.  She bit down vigorously on the apple, snapping it in half with the incisor like ridge between her long fangs, which were retracted for now.  The crisp, sweet treat sat on her tongue for a while, and she savored the taste of her first meal in days. She swallowed the half piece whole, letting the first stomach in her humanoid abdomen do the crushing of the delicious fruit.  She did the same for the other half of her treasured fruit, and repeated the process for the second apple. 

She was about to start on her third, when she heard a low growl.  She snapped her gaze over to the dog, who was just lifting its head from rest.  She placed the whole apple in her mouth to keep her hands free and glided as quickly as she could toward the alley.  The dog barked loudly, but did not chase her, bound by a tether that she missed before.  She scrambled to the top of the fence, but could see that there were now people in the alley.  Cursing her luck she carefully but hastily put her top half over the fence and doubled over, slackening her tail-body and pulling herself down the wooden planks.  She slipped down off the fence with a thud louder than she intended, drawing up in a coil and hunching over to make herself as small as possible. 

Moments later, she heard a door slam open and a man’s angry voice chastise the dog, who quieted after the man’s threats.  Tense moments passed, Syanith’s tail writhing, her heart thundering, and her mind racing.  She didn’t even want to be here.  She wanted to be with her old friends, the ones she had not seen in years.  Especially her master.  He would have made sure none of this ever happened.  All she wanted now was to have him hold her, his gentleness calming her deep inside where no one else could see but him.

A moment later, she heard the backdoor of the tavern close, and her breath returned.  The apple in her mouth, held down by her tongue, seemed a paltry prize for such an ordeal. 

She swallowed the whole apple, almost spitefully.  She had spent a month like this.  There was no way the superstitious, small-minded townsfolk could show her what she wanted.  With no master, no friends, and no home, the whole world seemed determined to beat her.

She rubbed her wrists, feeling the segmented dents in her flesh that had not diminished even after thirty five years.  She could still feel the chains that were no longer there.  It made her sick, thinking that she once accepted that she would never be able to live without those chains, the lashes, and the disgusting appetites of those who called her slave.  Now, with not even her sweet master, she felt lost instead of free. 

“There is always a path open to me,” she whispered, repeating the words of Shareshta, her closest friend.  She had left first when the master had departed, feeling hurt by her perceived abandonment.  Syanith had tried to explain it, but nothing consoled her.  Even at that darkest point, Shareshta had managed to find a path. 

Syanith released her wrists.  Her eyes looked down the narrow alley, to the people who did not want her.  If they could not accept her, she had no reason to accept them.  Her path was not here, or in any of the other towns she had been to in the past five years.  She went to the edge of the alley, casting her gaze to the marketplace not far from her vantage. 

She noted the people gathered around a huge caravan, as many as five wagons long.  Strong men loaded up crates to the wagons, and several halflings dealt a few wares to the crowd from a small booth.  A sparse guard of a few mercenaries kept watch over the proceedings, and from the way they were working, the caravan looked ready to go at any time.

Syanith looked up at the sky, to the sun.  She extended a hand from the alley to the sunlit street, the striking radiance making her tiny green scales on her hand vibrant and lively.  It had been a long time since she had felt that bright inside.  Nothing now gave her such a warm feeling, not even if the sun blazed in her very heart.  She didn’t want to feel like this, but his absence had been harrowing for all his followers, she just had nothing to fill that void afterward.  Every day since the one he left had drained her.

It was getting colder, and soon there would be fewer caravans.  She could almost hear him calling her now.  Her chance to leave was now, before she was trapped in this town for a soulless winter. 

She moved slowly at first, leaving the alley under the cover of her billowing cloak, trying to hide herself from all the eyes around her.  But soon her movements came easier, her long tail waving along the ground as she glided down the street.  She drew a few curious glances, and more than one mystified stare.  A moment ago, such audacity seemed beyond her, but now it seemed not only right, but necessary.  The market, open and lively spread before her, but the sights and sounds of commerce were only the backdrop for this new stage.  The scene was set; she only had to do her part. 

She moved on to the halfling merchants, and when one was free, she came up to them.  “Greetings,” she said, the first word in months she had said to a sentient being.

“Well met,” the male halfling said, “How can I help you this day?”

“I wish to speak with your master,” Syanith said.

He nodded, and let out a whistle.  A female halfling, sturdy but slender turned from her task with the laborers toward the merchant.  She was quite pretty, with rich brown hair and gray eyes, dressed in a work apron and dark clothes. 

“What is it?” she said to the male, who pointed at the cloaked Shayath.  She cocked her head, stepping forward, and bid the ladysnake before her to speak.

“I wish to join your caravan,” Syanith said.

Best Laid Plans

Sorry folks, the Monday update this week won't be much. Between illness and helping some friends in need I didn't really have time to put together another chapter. So, for tomorrow, you'll get something shorter as filler.

If you would be fine with shorter sections being posted, I may just start doing that, just to have some regular content. Thanks for your patience in this matter.

Dream on,

Tyler

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.  

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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 6

Wardan lifted up his hand as soon as he could feel the breeze, but that was still to slow to keep from getting a mouthful of sand.  He coughed and spit it out as best he could, but the aggravating wind continued to blow in his face.  Every attempt to eject the unwanted particles in his mouth served to replace them with just as much, if not more than before.  He grunted as he forced his eyes to squint forward, as the wind died down.  Rilea was far ahead again, seemingly unfazed by the latest in a series of desert gusts.  Wardan made a mental note to ask her why she chose the dustiest, most irritating path possible, instead of the old road used by the raiders. 

He turned behind him to see the state of his fellow raiders.  Nellik trudged behind in stoic fashion, a piece of cloth wrapped around his mouth and nose like a mask.  Wardan sorely wished he'd thought of that now, the last few hours would not have been so trying.  Beyond him, Grif stomped through the sand, his formidable beard and mustache serving him in the same capacity as Nellik's cloth.  The dwarf's eyes squinted against the stinging sands, and it looked like he could barely see, but he managed to follow behind Nellik well enough that Wardan didn't dwell on it.

He regretted that Denrick was once again left behind, but in this case it was for the best.  His talent in first aid was needed among the wounded from the raid on the fortress, now called Norwatch and being repurposed as a new outpost for the Norheim Raiders. Among the wounded was Loka, her wound from the first battle having grown infected.  Denrick promised his friends that he would make sure Loka got better, and then return to the city where they would have a drink together once they reunited.  Still Wardan wished he could have brought Denrick along for this one, it promised to be quite the trek.

Not stopping to tear his clothing, the raider simply put his arm up in front of his face, closing off his nose and mouth with the crook of his elbow.  It served him well as the wind washed over him again, not a single grain getting into an unwanted place.  He started to put his arm down, when another gust started to pick up.  Starting to see the flaws in his plan, he shrugged and kept the arm up over his mouth.  He would rather get a kink in his arm than a belly full of sand.

Soon, Wardan understood why Rilea wanted to take the path through the desert, over the dunes he could already see the crown of the Mountain in the Vast.  With her leading, they were already upon their destination.  Wardan knew that taking the path around the desert would have taken them another day at least.  Best of all, most predators avoided the desert, saving them from further setback.

By nightfall, they were no longer treading on loose sand but the rocky outcroppings at the edge of the desert.  The wind was just as harsh but no longer bombarded them with hot sand, just roared impotently in their ears. 

Nellik suggested that they set up camp in a small cluster of rocks that guarded from the wind.  The area also boasted a small gathering of scrub brush and dried grasses, perfect for making a tiny fire.  Grif set out gathering the materials, while Wardan and Nellik cleared out the campsite.

"We don't need to stop," Rilea stated as they pitched the tent.  "We could make it to the mountain in the dark if we don't stop."

"Perhaps the Gifted might," Nellik said, securing a tent ring.  "You can tell where to go without seeing, and Wardan might scrape against rocks as he stumbled in the dark, but he would be unharmed in the end.  Grifthalgas and I are at quite a disadvantage; we break easily."

"You must have torches you can use, if you are lighting a fire," Rilea argued.

"Oh, astounding idea!" Nellik said bitterly.  "We'll just stroll across the wasteland at night carrying fire, attracting Darcats and chiraptors and whatever else hides in the night.  No, I'll take my chances in a defensible position with cover."

"I'd listen to him," Wardan said.  "He's thought this through."

"Aye, and faster than we can belch twice!" Grif said, hauling a small pile of flammables back through the camp. 

"I don't think any faster than you, friend," Nellik admitted.  "You'd be surprised to find how much time you save just to think ahead."

Rilea sighed.  "Well, since you've thought of everything, you must have considered just how much time it will take to get to the top of this mountain.  I am skilled at climbing, but you don't look like you will fare so well.  The sooner we get to the mountain, the sooner we can drag you to the top."

Nellik grinned.  "Who said I would be climbing?  Grif and I are the rear guard in this case, you and Wardan will go much faster without us."

"We worked this out before we left," Wardan explained.  "I've been at the top of that mountain before, so I know a few tricks on how to climb it.  Nellik and Grif will hold a camp down at the foothills, and the whole trip up and down will take us less than two days."

Rilea considered his words for a moment.  She then smiled, saying.  "That suits me just fine." 

"I'm glad we are in agreement," Nellik said.

The three raiders settled in to a relatively relaxing evening while Rilea stood watch.  They ate a meal of simple rations over the campfire, trading anecdotes and tales.  Grif explained to them how his last squad, the Arbalesters, had repurposed an old catapult to deliver live, dwarven missiles into the enemy ranks, and Nellik told them about the time he once tripped an ogre with a rope trap and dropped it on top of its own goblin warband.  After they had finished and turned in for the night, Wardan decided to check on Rilea.  She might be used to sleepless nights of travel, but at least he could alleviate the watch duties.

When he found her, she was crouched on top of on of the boulders guarding the camp from the wind.  The gusts had died down to a breeze since they had stopped, filling the night with its wistful song.  Rilea sat perfectly still on the edge of the boulder, her hand splayed across its surface. 

Before he could say anything, she turned to him with a gazeless smile.  "Hello Wardan."

"Evening," he responded.  "Thought you might be wanting a rest."

She shook her head, still smiling, and turned her head back down to the rock. 

Wardan sighed.  "Well, wake me when you want to rest, I'll finish the watch for you."

"Did you know it's raining in Argassa?" she asked, her smile growing.

"I ... wait, what?" Wardan said, startled by her change of topic.  "How do you know that?"

"I can feel it through the stone," she said, very matter-of-factly.  "Tiny little uneven pitter patters in a wide swath far to the south.  Only water feels this delicate on the ground, so gentle and soothing.  Have you ever felt the rain, Wardan?"

"I have," he said.  "It was a long time ago."

She cocked her head, as though listening for something.  "The storm is still strong, and moving north."  She turned to him, almost palpably excited.  "The rain may even reach us at the Mountain in the Vast."

It was Wardan's turn to smile.  "You're strange."

"My gift is strange," she said.  "It's had an effect on me."

"One moment you're calculating and shrewd, the next you are like a child, getting excited about rainstorms."  Wardan crossed his arms.  "Not sure which one I prefer."

"Lucky you, you don't need to choose," she said sweetly.  "This is just how I am.  You learn to appreciate the simple things in life very quickly, having a child."

Wardan started to nod, then caught exactly what she said.  "You have a child?"

"A daughter, actually," Rilea said calmly.  The smile on her face seemed sadder now.  "She has never felt the rain, or even heard it."

"You told Borlan you lived near the desert," Wardan remembered.  "Can you really raise a family out there?"

Rilea took her hand away from the stone.  "As long as you are prepared to do whatever it takes."

Wardan nodded, trying to put together the mystery of this woman.  "Are you sure you don't want to rest?"

She sighed, and hopped off of the boulder.  "I suppose.  You be careful, boy.  I didn't feel any predators nearby, but ..." she stopped in mid sentence, a look of consternation on her face.

Wardan was about to ask what was wrong, but then he felt it to; a light tremor in the ground and a booming echo on the wind.  "What was that?" he asked.

Rilea crouched down to the ground again, placing her hand on the dirt.  Her face became lined with concern.  "Something ... very heavy.  It landed near to the mountain."

"We must be closer than I thought," Wardan guessed.  "It was probably just a boulder falling off the side of it."

"No," she said, standing up.  "I felt the steps of men as well.  It may not have been so simple."

Wardan patted the air in a calming gesture.  "Don't get too worked up over this.  The nomad merchants that travel the wastes often meet and stop to rest by the Mountain.  They could also be village raiders, out far from home.  No need to jump to conclusions."

Rilea nodded her agreement, but her face remained stern and suspicious.  "We'll find out tomorrow, one way or the other."

******

Kra lay calmly on his back in the shallow cave they had found about halfway up the mountain, one forepaw resting on his chest rising and falling with his deep, relaxed breaths.  He watched as his paw moved up and down as his chest rose and fell with each breath, noticing how much less movement there was than a month ago.  His scales grew steadily, regardless of his determination to survive.  He had felt not long ago that he could keep up with their growth, as long as he remained active and built muscle.  But it was beginning to dawn on him that eventually, whether it was months or years from now, he would succumb to their weight and be nothing but a stone.

He reached off to his side, where there was a large pile of dead bladehawks, and took one.  Bink had set about debeaking and cleaning them and this pile was his.  The goblin's pile, much smaller, sat in a different corner, waiting to be cooked.  Kra had never had cooked meat before, and wanted to join the goblin in his feast tonight, but for now he was fine eating one or two of his birds raw.

The two of them discovered that they were quite the team when it came to hunting.  Bink's technique for hunting the bladehawks worked like a charm.  When they noticed the flock, Kra hatched a cunning plan.  Obscured by the dragon's stony body, Bink threw several stones out onto the dusty ground.  The foolish birds, thinking the skipping stones were leaping ashrabbits, dove straight down for their imagined prey.  Many dove hard and fast enough that the sharp crests on their beaks pierced deep into the ground, rendering them immobile.  Others, somewhat more fortunate, were able to pull up at the last second, just enough that they didn't crash, but not enough that they didn't have to land. 

Once they were in position, the trap was sprung.  Bink used his little spear to skewer the birds that were stuck, while Kra dealt with the rest.  Not giving them the time and space they needed to take off, he bounded out in front of the grounded birds and heaved himself on top of them.  Those not crushed or trapped beneath he were quickly snatched from the ground by his claws, swept up by his tail, or covered and trapped by his wings.  They managed to trap or kill all of the birds of the flock, not a one got away from the unlikely pair.

Bink had spent most of the day after that cleaning the birds after they transported them up to the cave they had found earlier, which required more delicate a touch than Kra could help with.  He had instead busied himself collecting up all the feathers Bink pulled out, stacking them in a pile in the corner.  They made a much softer, and more importantly warmer, bed for Bink than the hard stone. 

Shortly after, Bink had mentioned the fire, and though Kra had initially protested, Bink had won him over with the temptation of cooked meat.  The goblin had gone out some time ago, looking for materials that would burn.  It was the first time in a long time that Kra lamented that his kind were no longer masters of fire.  That at least would be something he could share with his new ally.

Now he lay quietly and simply, relaxing for the first time since his cave in Argassa.  He originally worried that they would not be able to find water easily, but the back of the cave there was a small pool that was fed from a trickle that came down the wall from a crack in the ceiling.  Kra guessed that the mountain was high enough that ice formed near the top and melted through cracks down into lower caves.  He had already made marks near its surface, preparing to keep track of his water supply, and also to restart his experiment from before.  He was concerned that his curse was having an effect on his environment, and wanted to find out just how powerful his curse was.

Putting water out of his mind for now, he let his mind dwell on yet another disturbing subject: the men from last night.  He knew that eventually he would have to bump into the widespread creatures, but that was not the way he wanted to do it.  His appearance already lent him the guise of a monster; he did not wish to reinforce that image any further.

Long ago when he was but a hatchling, his father told him a story about the first dragons, and how they took pity on the creature that was man.  But when the dragons went to offer help, the men grew afraid, and drove off the dragons with force.  The eldest dragons decreed that their kind should not interfere with the business of man.  Many dragons took that as meaning that the doings of man were beneath them, but others, like Kra and his parents, understood that the dragon's self imposed exile from the world of men was to protect both men and dragons from each other.

Kra had started this journey thinking of man as another threat he would have to face.  The more he thought of it, though, the more he compared it to his alliance with Bink.  The two of them got a lot out of their relationship, and all it took was a situation that forced the two of them to coexist, somewhat reluctantly.  Kra's life had been considerably improved by the existence of one goblin; how much help could he give and receive if a village of humans decided they needed him?

What if it was not just him, but other dragons as well?  Not just men, but dwarves, and goblins, and even orcs?  What if all the wise races put aside their squabbles and worked together against this dying world?

"It would never happen," Kra muttered under his breath, before snapping up another hawk. 

But still, a voice said in the back of his mind, such a thing would be beautiful.  He would be wary of men still, yet he would hold onto that beautiful thought.

"Kra!"

Startled by the sudden shout, the dragon reflexively tried to bolt upright, but his stiff scales did not allow his torso to bend properly. Craning his neck, he saw Bink with a bundle of sticks and a pale look on his face, standing at the cave entrance. 

"Kra, humans are coming up trail!" the hysterical goblin shouted.

The dragon rolled to his feet, suddenly keenly aware of how indefensible the cave was from the trail.  "Show me."

Bink led him down the trail a fair bit, and pointed out from their ledge what looked like a pair of human shapes coming up the mountain trail.

"What we do, Kra?  You kill them?" Bink asked.  Kra glanced at the goblin, trying to detect whether or not he expected the bloodshed, but all he seemed to show on his exaggerated features was a frightened creature looking for guidance.

"No, not unless we must," Kra answered.  "We need to find out more."

Bink nodded and started back for the cave.  Kra stopped him with his wing. 

"We not go back?"

"The cave isn't safe," Kra told him.  "I have a better idea, get between me and the wall, and stay silent and still."

Bink ducked under Kra's body to the other side, pressing himself up against the wall.  Kra curled up, tucking his face under his foreleg as best he could so his eyes, nose and mouth would not be visible, but his ears could hear just fine.  He tried to calm his breathing, knowing that was the only thing now that could dispel his disguise.  He finally managed to get his nervous breathing under control as he picked up on the sound of the humans coming up the path. 

The first one moved with heavy, certain footsteps that made Kra think of the military marching of hobgoblins.  That one moved with certainty past the dragon's camouflage.  The second one had much lighter footfalls, just as practiced as the first, but not nearly as bold.  This one's movement spoke of caution, and that worried the hiding dragon.

The moment came when the second person stopped, standing right next to Kra's body.  The dragon fought hard to keep his breathing calm at that point, and there was a moment where he thought this person had noticed some recognizable feature and his facade had been pierced. 

"Rilea!" shouted the voice of the first person, a man, further up the trail.  "What's the matter?"

After a long pause, the second voice, clearly female, said, "It's nothing."  A moment later, Kra heard her footsteps moving up the trail once again.  He let a few moments pass before moving away from the wall and releasing Bink from the wall.  The little goblin gave a mighty gasp for air.

"Dragon squish Bink up against rock," Bink said, still gasping.  "Hard to breathe."

"I'm sorry Bink, It was the only way they wouldn't notice us," Kra said apologetically, offering his paw for Bink to climb onto his back. 

"We go back to cave now?" Bink said, climbing up onto Kra.  "So tired, and hungry too..."

"Not quite."  Kra said to Bink's disappointed moan.  "We need to know what these humans want with this place.  I did not make this place my home to lose it so soon."

******

The day was going just as Wardan had planned it, at least in broad terms.  They arrived at the foothills of the Mountain in the Vast before midday, and he and Rilea had started climbing up via a trail carved out by previous raiders.  The mountain was something of a rally point for those who needed to find their way in the wastes, and offered shelter to travelers who passed by. 

Now, they were nearly to the top, and Wardan was happy that for once climbing meant he was not hanging off a sheer rock face to be toyed with by the wind.  He loved being able to see from up high, the view of the wasteland from above made his homeland look almost beautiful. 

Rilea, traveling not to far behind him, was not as invigorated by the climb as he was.  Wardan knew why; the events of their walk had thoroughly disturbed the entire team.

As they were approaching the mountain, they came across an abandoned camp.  They would not have given it much attention, but Rilea insisted they investigate.  What they found was a bunch of unused traveling provisions, a burned out firepit, and a small stack of real wood.  Nellik examined it, to find that it was indeed the same kind of wood they found in the fortress. 

Rilea was furious about the discovery, and insisted that they move on.  Wardan argued that this was a Destructor camp, and they needed to investigate it further, but she told him that they would find more destructors if they just got to the mountain.  Grif suggested they take some of the wood with them, and Rilea screamed that they would do no such thing.  The annoyed dwarf asked why they should just leave it, when it could be useful to them, and she replied by asking if Warden or Nellik died, if he would burn them for fuel. 

Nellik asked her where the wood came from, and all she would say was, "It comes from groves that should never be disturbed."  The march to the mountain was silent from that point on.

Between Rilea's curious admission to him last night and her outburst at the camp, Wardan wondered exactly what this stuff was, and what her connection to it was.  However, Wardan did not wish to press her further, she obviously needed space right now, and he endeavored to give her exactly that.  He had marched up the mountain in stoic silence, every now and then humming a few lines from a dwarven mountain song.  Once he thought he heard Rilea humming with him, but he never once acknowledged it, save for smiling to himself.

After several more hours of climbing, taking hand over hand shortcuts when they found them, Wardan and Rilea finally managed to get to the plateau at the top of the mountain.  Wardan took a moment to bask in the view, all of Drakvald spread out below him.  Even Cairn Korrodas was dwarfed by the view up here.  The only thing that rose above the view was the Rivenwall to the north. 

Rilea wasted no time in doing what she came here to do.  She pushed past Wardan and stood at the edge of the plateau, looking out over everything.  She stood perfectly still, her robe and headband blowing in the wind.

"What now?" Wardan asked, unsure of what she was doing.

"Now you let me smell the wind," she said simply.

"How does that help us?"

"The bloodwood gives off a very distinct scent when it burns," she explained.  "If I can catch wind of it, I can trace it back to its source."

"How can you do that?" Wardan asked. 

"How can you break metal with your hands?" she countered.  "Just let me use my gift, I'll let you use yours, no questions asked."

Wardan knew where he was not wanted.  He moved to the opposite side of the plateau from her and sat down, trying to let himself absorb more of the excellent view. 

Hours seemed to pass by unhindered by action as they sat silently on the plateau.  Wardan started thinking about taking a nap when he saw Rilea move out of the corner of his eye.  He stood up to see what she was doing, and was startled when he noticed that her blindfold was lifted and she was seemingly looking around. 

He could see that she was squinting, but at what she stared at he could not tell.  She appeared to be following the flight of some invisible creature in the distance.  Her gaze drifted off to the northeast, and she finally replaced her blindfold. 

"Did you... find something?" Wardan asked, uncertain.

"Sure as stone, I found something," she said.  Her tone was much improved over its earlier coarseness.  "The wind is carrying the scent all the way from the Black Needles."

"So if we just went to there like you told Borlan..." Wardan started, but she gave him a sharp look.  "I'm sorry, I meant to say that I'm glad we know exactly where they are and not searching blindly." 

"I thought you might prefer that," she said sweetly. 

A sudden powerful gust almost knocked Wardan off balance.  "Whoa, we'd better get going, this wind is getting nasty."

Rilea's features became stony and pale, even as she fought against the wind.  "That's not a regular gust.  I must have missed it, from focusing on the bloodwood, but I smell it clearly now, a danger on the wind!"

Wardan regarded her for a moment, but drew his sword.  Moments later, a downburst buffeted them both as a gray scaled, slender dragon bigger than any Wardan had seen descended on them from above.

Wardan dove away for safety, and Rilea did the same.  Rolling into a crouch, the raider watched as the dragon came crashing down between them.  This was the worst situation to be fighting a dragon in; they had very limited movement and the dragon could easily pick them off the trail if they decided to flee.  The only chance they had was to keep the beast on the ground with them somehow.

The dragon seemed to understand that it had the upper hand.  Its movements were confident and deliberate, hardly as nervous and instinctive as other dragons Wardan had fought.  The monster's body was solid muscle, and its shoulder at full length was almost Wardan's height.  Its acid green eyes glanced at him first, then turned toward Rilea.

Thinking fast, Wardan grabbed his knife from his belt and threw it at the dragon as best as he could.  Luck seemed to favor him, as the worthless blade went straight for the creature's sinewy neck.  The blade bounced off harmlessly, but the challenge had been issued.  The dragon whipped its head back around viciously, its glare promising doom.

"That's right, I'm the one you want," Wardan taunted.  "Just you and me, you overgrown Wall Crawler."

The dragon inhaled deeply, and then issued a roar that almost knocked Wardan over.  The raider just smiled, saying, "I've heard dwarves belch louder than that."

He lunged in for a strike with his sword, but the dragon's backhand swipe was stronger.  Wardan's blade was knocked away, sent spinning into the air off the cliff.  The raider stumbled back, his arms numb from the dragon's counter.  Its claw already raised, the dragon's claw was poised to either tear him apart or crush him like a bug.

The dragon winced and turned its head behind itself, and Wardan could see Rilea as she leaped off the dragon's back, a sly grin on her face as her claw reaching for the beast's wings. 

A sickening sound like tearing leather split through the air, followed by the dragon's pained bellow.  Rilea landed under the dragon's wing as it thrashed in pain, and without losing pace she tumble underneath the dragon and reach for the lowered second wing. 

Wardan wasted no time in following her lead.  Without a weapon, he gave a roar himself as he charged and leapt up, wrapping his arms around the dragon's neck and holding fast.  The wyrm swung about but the raider refused to give way.  He swung his leg back, snapping it forward to give a solid kick to the dragon's chest. 

The beast buckled under the strike, giving Rilea all the opportunity she needed.  With the wing finally low enough, she jumped up and hung from the outer flange of the dragons wing, pulling it down even further.  Ducking beneath the wing once more, she thrust her claw up into the membrane and ran forward, the reverberating slice even louder than the last.

Wardan dropped down from the dragon’s neck and backed away a bit; his fists up and ready to make this fight work for him now that the beast could no longer fly away.

His spirit was stolen away as the dragon's glower fell upon him again, its wicked eyes damning him to a future of nothing but pain.  The dragon lashed out with frightening speed before Wardan could set himself, crashing its head into Wardan's side.   For the first time in a long time, Wardan felt something give in his body, and agonizing pain spread from his ribcage.  He crumpled and fell like a dry reed to an axe, sprawling out on the ground and trying to find his breath.

Rilea lunged at the dragon from behind, her claw poised to strike at its flank, but the dragon was wise to her game.  Instead of kicking out its leg, its wing waved backward, knocking into her and tossing her back. 

From Wardan's viewpoint, there was no way this would end well.

******

Kra watched his kin from the trail behind the rim of the plateau as the other dragon tossed the two humans around like a Darcat playing with a pair of ashrabbits.  Bink twitched nervously on his back, also seeming to be conflicted about the fight unraveling before them. 

On the one paw, he could let this dragon have the fight.  This might dissuade humans from coming to the mountain again.  This dragon was obviously quite powerful, if a bit younger than Kra.  He had heard of the dragons in Drakvald, how they were more animal than dragon.  But this one was different, it carried itself with the pride that all dragons should have.

But on the other paw, that another dragon was here was far more worrying to him than some humans.  If this dragon decided to claim the mountain after killing the humans, there was no way he would accept Kra's presence nearby; contact with Cursed dragons was forbidden and shunned.  If he did not step in and assert his territory now, he could lose it for good.

Torn between his kin and his safety, Kra could only watch as his despair mounted.

"Kra, you can save them!"

Kra looked to his shoulder where Bink leaned over to get his attention.  "Why?" he asked the goblin.

Bink blinked a couple times, as though the question confused him.  "You save Bink, yes?  You save the humans now!"

Kra turned away.  "It's not that easy, Bink."

"Yes easy!  It super easy!" Bink shouted as quietly as he could.  "Bink say you beat other dragon like sack of turds!  You beat Rangus, you beat anyone!"

Bink's words seemed to make things so simple, but more than that, Kra could feel that the little goblin really meant it.  That alone filled the dragon's heart to bursting.  To be regarded with awe is one thing, for even one person to believe in you so strongly was the difference between arrogance and true pride.

Kra turned back to the fight, just as the man was knocked to the ground.  He recognized the dragon's strength, but could also see now the brazen arrogance in his eyes.  This dragon was strong, but he was flaunting his power without regard for others.  His strength was not tempered by his heart.  He was without the guidance of the Motherwyrm.

"Bink, you stay here," Kra warned.  "This will not be pretty."

The goblin nodded and jumped down from the dragon's back.  The moment he was free from the goblin, Kra leapt up onto the plateau, making a barreling charge for the dragon as he stalked toward the fallen man.  The other dragon noticed at the last second, just a moment too late to stop Kra from tackling him to the ground.

"Oh great ... another one," the man said weakly from the ground. 

Kra stood up strong and tall from the attack, and the other dragon did the same, rage in its eyes. 

"Stone scales, red eyes ..." the other dragon observed, speaking in the draconic tongue.  "You are Kra."

"Then you know I am Cursed," Kra proclaimed in draconic.  "Leave now, lest my curse befall you, brother."

The other dragon laughed, a mocking, boorish sound.  "I will not run from a nothing."

"You will run from a dragon then!"  Kra roared, lashing out with his powerful claws.  The other dragon tried to defend himself, but Kra's heavy strike knocked him away.  "You will fly back to your old territory, in shame, and tell your kin of me.  You will tell them that a Kra is here, and he will not just disappear into the wasteland!  I am not just another curse to be forgotten, I AM THE LIVING STONE!"

Kra's last roar echoed out into the wind, off the mountain as though it filled the whole of Drakvald.  The other dragon smoldered with rage at this Kra's proclaimation.  "You are bold for a rock," he growled.  "You must be crushed to dust before you forget your place!"

The dragon leaped savagely at Kra, clawing, biting, and buffeting with ferocity born of arrogant rage.  His blows were strong, but Kra weathered them well, using his bulky scales as shields and his blunted paws like clubs.  The younger dragon was wiry and solid, just about Kra's size, and if he was never Cursed, the fight against this one would have been almost impossible.  But Kra knew how to fight with his afflicted body, and he had the advantage of bulk. 

He swept a massive paw into a gap left by the other's attacks, sure to take the other off his feet.  However, the other twisted away just at the right moment, avoiding the swipe and countering with a strike from his wing.  The buffet caught Kra in the jaw, not doing any real harm but keeping him off balance. 

Though his claws were fast compared to others with his affliction, this dragon was much too nimble for him to land a blow.  The other had the advantage of speed, and if he placed his strikes right, there was a chance he could fatally wound Kra. 

Accepting this turn of events, Kra widened and lowered his stance, digging himself in and going on the defensive.  The other dragon reared up and poised to strike between Kra's wings.  With strength born of patience and practice, Kra pushed his front legs up and snapped his neck up at the same time, head butting the other dragon in the belly. 

Stunned by the surprising maneuver, the other dragon toppled backward, landing on his side.  Seizing the opportunity, Kra pushed off mightily with his front legs, lifting himself onto his hind legs and aiming to topple straight down onto the other.

But the other was still too fast.  Recovering from the fall with incredible ease, he sprung up and met Kra's paws with his own, catching him with surprising strength.  Kra steadied himself before the other was able to push him over, and the two stood upright, claws locked, both knowing that the first to fall would be the one to die.

A stone sailed over the head of the other dragon, and both looked in the direction it came from without losing sight of the other.  The man on the ground looked disappointed with his throw, but he grasped around for another rock to throw.

From the other side the woman tried to rush the other dragon, as she had before.  Once again she was rebuked, the other dragon's tail snapping out quickly and sweeping her off her feet.  The tail curled back into place just as quickly to keep him balanced.

The other dragon snarled and began digging his claws into the sensitive space between Kra's claws.  Kra showed no pain, but he knew he could not hold out much longer.

The other dragon suddenly roared and reared back grasping at his face. Kra pushed with all his might, toppling over his foe and landing on top of him with all his weight. 

Glancing to the dragon's face, he half smiled as he noticed the telltale shaft of one of Bink's javelins sticking out of the flesh of the dragon's cheek.  He turned around briefly to see his companion standing on the plateau, his arm poised to through another deceptively deadly missile.

Kra lifted himself up off the other dragon.  He clearly was in no condition to fight further, both his front legs crushed and his ribcage shattered. 

"I shall give you death as a mercy," Kra said in common.  "May the Mother forgive you."

"To the wastes with the Mother," the other dragon rasped, his eyes defiant in defeat.

Anger swelled within Kra's chest.  Grasping the dragon with both claws as best he could, Kra gave a mighty grunt as he lifted his enemy bodily off the plateau.  With one titanic heave, he threw the defeated beast off the side of the plateau and down the mountain, as it howled in rage all the way down. 

Kra steadied himself with a breath, sitting down and putting one paw on top of the other.  "Praise to the Mother, she has made me strong."

"That's for sure," said the human, drawing himself up off the ground.  He winced as he cradled the side of his ribs that got smashed in the fight.

Kra looked to either side of him, the man on one side and the woman on the other.  Beyond nursing their injuries, neither of them made any move, nor said anything.  He wondered if they knew about Cursed dragons, if they would shun him as his kin did.

"Greetings, lovely humans!" Bink shouted as he ran forward, first to the man, who looked regarded the goblin with a confused smile.  Bink took hold of the man's free hand and shook it as heartily as was safe for the man, then ran eagerly across the plateau to the woman and did the same.  Even through her red blindfold, Kra could see the bemusement on her face.

Kra wished the little goblin was more subtle about the meeting, but was glad at least that someone had said something.

"Pleasure to meet you, little one," the woman said, humoring him.  "May we know the names of our saviors?"

"My name Bink," the goblin said, then turned and pointed to the dragon. "That my friend Kra!"

"Many thanks, Kra," the man said, making his way over to the dragon.  "We would have certainly died if it wasn't for you."

Kra nodded humbly, saying nothing.  He was in no way prepared for such a meeting.  What was he supposed to say?  What was he supposed to do?

"You hurt!  Both have big owwies!" Bink exclaimed.  "Come, follow!  Kra and I take you someplace safe!"

"I won't say no to that," the man said, looking to the woman for confirmation. 

The woman nodded.  "We won't make it down the mountain like this.  As long as you have somewhere for us to rest we'd be grateful."

Kra wanted to object to this plan, but deep inside he felt a curious longing.  This was his chance to learn more of men and their ways, if only for a short while.  He needed to know more if he was to survive in this new land. 

"Good good!  Yes yes!" Bink cackled gleefully.  "We have nice cave, some food, you love it, I promise!"  He took to woman's hand and started guiding her to the trail.  She went along with him, her amusement still clear on her face. 

The man started limping down after them, but Kra stopped him, stepping in front of him and lifting his paw up.

"I will carry you, if you wish," the dragon offered to the man.

The man shook his head, smiling.  "I'll be fine.  I won't belittle your strength by asking you to carry my sorry behind."

Kra fixed him with a sincere look.  "In these past few days, I've learned that strength is nothing if you don't share it with others." 

The man considered the dragons words, and a smile spread across his face.  He stepped up onto the dragon's paw and was lifted as to reach his back, sitting at Kra's neck.  Kra carried the man down the trail, taking his first step into a much larger world.

**********

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