The Bringer of War

Interlude

The dragon turned for the sea, its recently consumed meal heavy in its belly. After smashing the feeble resistance of the two legged animals, it was looking for a place to peacefully digest its food. There were numerous buildings between it and the water, and the avenues and streets of Port Gar were often narrow. The dragon solved this dilemma by simply smashing through or climbing over the structures in its way. The screams of the fearful, dying animals, the sight of their broken and bleeding bodies, filled the beast with a kind of primal joy, reinforcing its knowledge that there were no higher forms of life.

At one point, a group of the men with the bent staffs that shot sticks interposed themselves. The dragon was wary, as the missiles seemed to be aimed at its vulnerable eyes, actually retreating a few paces backwards, which caused another two story structure to collapse in its wake. The dragon felt something, a hidden energy all around it. Instinctively, it drew the power within itself, allowing it to grow and ferment within its belly...

Above the endless pounding of Daveed’s hammer (which caused an endless pounding in her head) Stella could just make out the sounds of distressed voices in the street. She glanced out the large open bay doors of Daveed’s smithy, noting that a large number of people were flooding the streets, faces panicked and movements frantic.

She turned to where Seamus and the smith were busily hammering out the block of steel that would eventually be a long spear. Daveed would use a smaller, one handed hammer to indicate where the big man was to strike, and then Seamus would heave a much larger one over his head and attempt to hit the right spot. Both men had stripped to the waist, and Stella sneered at the hairy, potbellied portrait that Daveed painted.

Seamus, however, was possessed of a chest knotted with muscle. A bit of reddish brown hair was present on his pectorals, but it was not the dense forest that Daveed possessed. Indeed, she mused to herself, if one could ignore his acid ravaged face, he might even be considered handsome. She watched as his muscles danced beneath the taut, glistening flesh with each swing of the hammer. His cheeks puffed out with effort each time he lifted the heavy mallet, bringing it down with greater aplomb every time.

Another shout, and the sound of splintering wood, drew her out of the reverie. She called out to the men, straining to be heard in the smokey air.

“Fellows,” she said “I think the dragon may have surfaced.”

The two of them, not having heard a word over their own hammering, continued on obliviously. Sighing, Stella stood up and approached, speaking at a higher volume.

“The dragon is coming,” she said. Giving an annoyed stomp when they did not hear her, she cast her gaze about the cluttered smithy until she spotted a bucket of water used to quench hot blades. Grunting, she grabbed the heavy object by the handle and hurled its contents at the two laborers. Both men gasped as the cool water hit their hot skin, turning dangerous looks at the wizard.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” said Seamus, blinking water out of his eyes.

“The dragon is here, dolt!” she shouted. “The dragon is here!”

Seamus’s gaze grew cold, and he frantically spun about in a circle, his eyes searching the gloomy environs. When he spied a half-finished pike, its pointy end still dingy and unpolished, he seized it in his good hand and made for the door.

“Are you daft, man?” said Daveed “that spear is not treated with Besk!”

“No time,” said Seamus grimly, making his way out the door.

“Hey!” shouted Stella “don’t get yourself killed!”

She rushed out of the shop herself, her shorter stride a hindrance in catching up with the big man. Under her breath, she muttered;

“You’re the only thing keeping me out of jail.”

Seamus was moving at a good trot, heading towards the direction that people were fleeing. He heard a tremendous crash, and a sound like rain. Moving past an open square, he was able to see the head of the dragon nearly half a mile away. It rent another building to splinters, the timbers pattering the ground. The big man was paralyzed with shock, as the dragon was much larger than the beast who had dragged his brother away in the sewers.

Stella dashed up behind him, actually slamming into his back hard enough to make her new spectacles fall to the ground. Cursing, she scooped them back up and set them crookedly on her face.

“By my father’s bones...” she said, awestruck. The dragon’s head dipped below their field of vision, then returned a moment later bearing something in its mouth. With awful clarity, she witnessed a man being bitten in half, the two pieces of his body in stark contrast against the clear azure sky.

Seamus seemed to be spurred into action by the sight. Heading off in the dragon’s direction at a dead run, his feet pounded hard on the cobblestones. Stella groaned, gathered up her hemline, and followed as best she could.

Soon Seamus was out of her sight. Her side ached terribly, and no matter how much air she sucked into her lungs it did not seem enough. Worse, she had to use one hand to hold her bent spectacles upon her nose, and the heavy grimoire on her back seemed like an anchor dragging her down.

She rounded a corner and was nearly trampled by another frightened mob. Plastering herself against the wall at the last moment, she was able to avoid a grim fate, though an errant elbow did catch her in the jaw. She ended up on all fours on the hard stone, again picking her glasses up.

“Oh, hey,” she said, realizing they had been bent back near proper alignment. Sighing, she began to run towards the last place she had seen Seamus. “Here we go again...”

Seamus had an easier time parting the crowds, due in part to the long pike he held in his hands. His scarred visage was scrunched up in a grim scowl, eyes so narrow they were mere slits. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that he likely rushed to his own death, but the fires of revenge had been stoked in his belly, their rushing flame drowning out all doubts.

When he was less than two blocks from the rampaging marauder, he nearly stumbled right into Captain Murdoch. The man was covered with a sheen of sweat, gasping for breath. His eyes fell upon the weapon in Seamus’s hands, and grew wide.

“So soon?” he managed to gasp out. “It will not be enough, man. It will not be enough!”

Seamus ignored him, not quite shoving the captain out of his way. The dragon had slowed, flinching from a contingent of militia archers. He heard the pounding feet behind him and spun about, thinking Murdoch sought to save his life by forcefully subduing him. His eyes widened when he saw Stella come to a halt, bracing her hands on her knees as she attempted to recover.

“Wait for a moment, damn you!” she said between pants. “I have a spell that will make your weapon more effective. At least allow me to cast it before you head off to your doom!”

Seamus nodded, holding the weapon out for her inspection. The woman closed her eyes, began searching for ley lines. She snapped them open a moment later, a look of shock and awe on her spectacled face.

“What’s wrong?” said Seamus “If you can’t remember it, just leave me be!”

“The dragon,” said Stella, her voice tiny and soft “the dragon is, is sucking up all the ley line energy!”

“The lay line?” said Seamus, face scrunched up in confusion. His one eye looked at Stella as if she had grown another head.

“Never mind,” said Stella “I can still cast the spell, but I fear that is no mindless beast.”

Both their heads whipped around at the sound of a great rush of air. Unbelievably, the beast had spewed flame from its maw, at least it behaved like flame. The color was off, appearing a rich blue as it licked over the archer’s position. Judging from their screams, and the men dashing about frantically waving their arms as they burned to death, it burned like flame as well.

“By the gods,” said Seamus “they can breathe fire!”

“Using magic, anything is possible,” said Stella, determined to rid the world of the ley line thief. She gathered up the energy within herself and folded her hands into a steeple. Jabbing them at Seamus’s crude, unfinished pike, she uttered the word of power to complete the incantation.

“Chakti!” She said, and Seamus felt the surge of energy in his weapon. The whole shaft began to vibrate, numbing his arms. The tip appeared fuzzy and indistinct, as if it were flashing quickly through the air.

“What have you done, witch?” he said. “I can barely hang on to the bloody thing now!”

“Did you not see the arrows, fool?” said Stella. “The metal would bounce harmlessly off its scales! I did the best I could! The pike will now sever anything it touches. Anything.”

Seamus frowned incredulously at the shaking spear, then grimly turned towards the dragon.

“Wait!” shouted Stella. “I can aid you yet!”

The big man took off at a run, easily outdistancing her. He rushed through streets strewn with rubble and bodies. Soon he decided that it was faster to simply follow the monster’s wake of destruction rather than use Port Gar’s winding, serpentine roads.

Clambering over a stack of timbers, he skidded down the other side. He was now quite close to the docks, and with a shout of rage realized the dragon was heading straight for the water. The beast had its back to him, long tail elevated as it leaned forward as if to dive into the salty waters.

“Turn!” shouted Seamus, shouting for all he was worth. “Turn, monster!”

Incredibly, the dragon seemed to hear him. Turning its head towards him, the snake like neck bending almost back upon itself, it regarded him with murky yellow eyes.

“You remember me, you bastard?” said Seamus, lifting the pike over his head. The only part of the dragon in reach was its scaled tail, and the man thrust his spear tip into it easily. He was amazed at how easily it rent the scales, as if it were slicing into a block of soft cheese. Violently, he twisted the weapon and removed it, shouting as he had to avoid a deluge of deadly dragon blood. Staring at the spear tip, he was amazed to find it intact, if still strangely shaking.

The dragon roared as its scales were penetrated. Spinning around in a tight circle with surprising agility, it opened its toothy maw and blasted a thunderous roar at the big man. His ears ringing from the bellow, Seamus regained a bit of his senses. Having no other cover, he leaped five feet across the murky water to land on the deck of a merchant vessel.

The dragon snaked its head in past the rigging and snapped its jaws shut mere inches from Seamus’s body. The power of the closing maw shocked him, almost as much as the heavy snapping sound it made. Frustrated, the dragon bellowed again, attempting to thrust its head in at a different angle.

Seamus scrambled to avoid another bite, moving around the tree trunk thick main mast. Timbers splintered and the ship rocked wildly as the dragon placed its forelegs on the deck. Lacking sea legs, the big man collapsed to his rump, which wound up saving his life as the dragon’s jaws closed right above his head.

The dragon reared its head up, eyes focusing on its prey. Its mouth opened wide and began to descend rapidly. The beast intended to eat him whole, it seemed. Seamus noted with surprising clarity the bones on the roof of its mouth, including a strange row of teeth near the back of its throat. With a savage shout, the big man thrust his ensorceled weapon up just as the mouth descended upon him. The tip jabbed its way though the softer flesh of its mouth, poking all the way through to exit through the dragon’s eye socket. The beast reared up, roaring in terror and pain. Seamus had no time to notice, as he scrambled to avoid the dragon’s spurting blood. Holes big enough to put his fist through were seared through the deck, spurring him to his feet.

The dragon stared down at him, still whining a bit. Its left eye was yellow no longer, but a reddish, pulpy mass. Seamus stared down at the smoking spear in his hands and gave a shout, tossing it to the deck before the acidic blood could drip onto his hands. It appeared Stella’s enchantment had faded, leaving him unarmed.

Seamus saw the pennants and sails shake as if in a heavy wind. He stared up at the dragon, scales gleaming in the sun, as it sucked in a great rush of air. He knew what was coming next, and began dashing for the railing at the edge of the deck. His feet pounded on the timbers, fear driving his limbs to swiftness. He leaped over the side just as the dragon exhaled. The blue flame barely missed his diving form, and still he felt as if he were standing too close to a bonfire. A moment later he hit the water, slipping beneath the waves.

Opening his eyes beneath the surface, he stared up at a blurry vision of the burning ship. It appeared that the fires consuming it were a more natural color. He cringed, bubbles rushing from his open mouth, as a dark shape suddenly loomed above him. The dragon dove into the water, landing about a hundred feet away. The resulting waves rocked the burning ship wildly, and his head struck the barnacled keel sharply. As he drifted into darkness, the one thought on his mind was that the dragon would likely survive. The light of the sun began to fade as he drifted towards the bottom, his blood a red mist trailing from his head.