Lindwell's Hero (Part VI)

My father had tried to fight the dragon off when it attacked. After what I had just seen though, I knew what I had to do. The sword hit the ground with a resonating ding.

The dragon took a step closer, breathing quickly through its large nostrils. It brought its snout right up to my face, then let out a snort of hot air. It then ducked its head to the ground and picked up my sword. Retreating a few steps it held the sword toward me. I reached out, took it, and placed it back in my sheath.

After looking me over for another moment, the scarlet dragon turned around and made a low grunt. The smaller dragon came immediately, though it watched its parent closely. It then lowered its head as the scarlet dragon motioned for me to get on its child's back. I was dumbfounded--didn't they know I had come here to kill a dragon today? The black dragon waited patiently as I thought through everything that had just happened and tried to decide what it meant. At last the red dragon gave me a nudge and so I got up on its child's back.

As soon as it felt my weight centered on its back the black dragon lunged forward and took to the air, leaving me to hold on as tightly as I dared to its long, snakelike body. Holding on I couldn't help but be amazed with how the dragon wound its way through the air effortlessly, seeming more like a branch in a swift river than something flying through the sky. It gently turned through the air, until at last we took a straight course, going north over the valley of dragons. This wasn't the direction I was planning on, but I was far too shocked to try to change our course. Besides, it seemed as if the dragon had somewhere in mind that it wanted to take me.

Lindwell's Hero (Part V)

Coming back to the light was like returning to a good friend that had been gone for a very long time. The sun was well into the west though, so I wouldn't have much light left. But looking out from the cave entrance showed me I did not have far to go--over some rocky terrain and just a few moment's walk away.

I crawled just a bit closer, up to the first rock outcropping where I could peer through and see the dragons. There was a fair number of them there--I counted ten in the nearest group, but there were several more as I looked farther. Moving closer and closer, the scene began to reveal itself further. There was an entire valley amidst the mountains, and the whole place was dotted with dragons. The whole spectacle was incredible--unimaginable to the quiet town of Lindwell. There were so many dragons, there could have easily been one for everyone in town...if the dragons wanted it to be so.

My heart burned with rage as I thought of the dragons selfishness, their utter disregard for life. But then I saw the scarlet dragon I had seen earlier in the trees, holding the flesh of some creature it had caught to the reach of a smaller dragon, black with a few golden scales spattered in as if made by the embers of a fire that had gotten too close. The beast had velvet purple eyes, looking lovingly at the larger dragon. For a moment the jaws of the scarlet dragon were no longer poised to tear and kill but to tend and nurture. This other dragon, three quarters the size of its parent, saw nothing dangerous or fearful about the other. Was this how the dragon riders felt about their dragons?

I shook my head. No, that was wrong: dragons were nothing but savage beasts. They had stolen my parents from me, thereby proving their malice. Yet still there seemed to be something...wrong. The evil beasts I had expected to find weren't there. I at last heaved a heavy sigh and turned back to the cave.

I didn't make it back. Just feet away I heard a thud behind me and I knew I had been spotted. I twisted around and saw the scarlet dragon staring me in the eyes. I looked into its eyes, looking for a sign of hate. Instead I saw a mother, doing what it could to defend its child. I looked to my sword, wondering what to do. My hands trembling, I reached for my sword and unsheathed it--I knew what I had to do.

Lindwell's Hero (Part IV)

I tried to run as fast as I could, but no matter how quickly I made each bound it seemed as if I wasn't getting anywhere. I looked to the right and left, just reminding me how visible I was. My lungs felt like they were about to burst and my knees felt ready to buckle.

I collapsed as soon as I reached the other end of the field, dragging myself under some brush as my heart pounded in my chest. Just seconds after getting covered another dragon flew over the mountain. I waited for it to look at me, to spot me in my shabby hiding spot, but it never did. I finally relaxed as it made it past the grove, my strength returning as my fear was momentarily abated.

I hadn't accomplished my goal yet either, and there were still plenty of chances to be seen. From my position it was hard to see a best route, so I just had to go from place to place, trying to leave as little distance as possible between hiding places.

I saw a number of dragons fly out while I was slowly making my way up the side of the mountain, but luckily none of them saw me. Whether I was really well covered or just lucky I didn't know, but I wasn't seen all the same. And just halfway up I found the perfect cover: a cave. Relieved to find somewhere I could finally be completely out of view, I headed into the cave.

I didn't have to venture very far into the cave before I realized that I had a serious problem if I wanted to attempt crossing the mountain through the cave: I had no light. I looked outside. There was a tree out there, but I was worried about how long it would burn. Still, I knew I had a better trying to start a fire, so I headed out and broke off some branches. After just a few minutes I had a fire going. Breaking off a greenish branch I stuck it in the fire, just waiting for it to light. Before long my makeshift torch was alight, allowing me to put out the main fire and proceed into the cave.

Inside I could hear the dripping of water, feel the cold wet air on my face. The jumping fire revealed many shadows in the dark. The air seemed to smother me as I went, forbidding as anything on this journey had been.

Pressing deeper into the cave revealed that I wasn't the only one who had attempted the cave. Charred bones and sometimes whole skeletons were scattered along my path, showing evidences of those who had also tried to do as I was. Many of them had brought swords or other weapons--curious things to have for those trying to get their own dragon to ride. Had they been trying to seek vengeance as I was?

After countless hours of practically feeling my way through the cave I came to a fork in the path. Exhausted and exasperated, I fell to the ground in despair--had I really come all this way just to die in the mountain? And as if to mock my desperate situation my torch, which had been barely holding fire to it, went out. I rolled to my side and curled up--what a fool I had been!

Through the darkness I heard a sound, though--my last hope. I could just make out the sound of rushing water down the path to the left. Pushing myself to my hands and knees I felt my way along the cold, rocky ground along the path, narrowly avoiding several drops before my hand finally felt the wetness of the river. I just had to follow it downstream and I'd surely be out soon.

Lindwell's Hero (Part III)

I bent over and picked up the sword, still unsure of what I would do. Next I reached for my father's sheath. Even with it on though, and with the sword inside, I still felt unsure. But I had already come this far, I said to myself, Deep down I must know what I want. And what would make any other time better?

I ate my stew hastily, just anxious to get on my way and leave any hesitations behind me. I knew I was probably making the dumbest decision of my life already, but I couldn't avoid the fact that it was probably also my greatest. If I ever wanted to become anything more than a peasant I could only do it by going and slaying a dragon. Wilhern the dragon slayer--what a great title! I looked back down at my father's sword in its hilt one more time to reinforce the idea before starting on my way to the dragon's roost.

There was no path to the mountains, of course. After all, dragons approached people--people didn't approach the dragons. There were stories about people who tried to hike through the mountain and were scorched and eaten by the dragons there. Only one man had ever made it to the roost before, and that was just what the legends said. Ronald Quickfoot was the town's first dragon rider, and the only one to go into the mountains and return. He had left Lindwell not long after going to the mountains, and in the centuries since that time the stories about him had all been changed until it became no more than a children's bedtime story, molded and changed to teach different lessons until it was no longer certain whether or not they really were just stories.

If those stories had any truth to them, and if Ronald Quickfoot really did exist, I would have to figure out what he did to get through the mountains. From the village they had always seemed impossibly tall--getting closer the task started seeming a bit less daunting. The real test would be in hiding from the dragons. The grove that stood between Lindwell and the mountains was starting to thin out, and as everyone knew, after the trees was sacred dragon territory.

I spat at the ground as the thought passed through my mind--those beasts were anything but sacred so far as I was concerned. I kept fingering the hilt of my father's sword, reminding myself what I was going to do. It had been meant for a dragon. When my parents were attacked my father had meant to use this sword to defend them--he wasn't fast enough, though.

Just as I reached the last tree in the grove I stopped dead in my tracks as a shadow passed right over where I stood. One look up and my blood seemed to freeze as droplets of sweat formed on my skin. Even as I started clawing up the tree I could hear the creature's wings flapping, getting closer and closer as it came in to land. I could only hope to get high enough in time.

I had made it over halfway up the tree by the time the dragon touched the ground. I immediately stopped all movement, only daring to gaze down at the beast. It was blood red with black pupils lined with gold, and as it moved its large clawed feet I could easily hear the underbrush giving way under it. The dragon walked on all fours as it sniffed at the ground with it's long, flat nose, and I knew it had to have been looking for me.

I clenched my sword's hilt as the dragon suddenly stopped all movement. It then jerked its head in the direction I had come from and stared at something in the trees. After waiting for a moment the beast took off blindingly fast, its long mouth already open to expose its sharp white fangs. The dragon then disappeared in the grove, reappearing just seconds later above the trees with a deer in its mouth. The animal was a bit big for the dragon to carry, but somehow it seemed to manage just fine, soaring back over the mountain.

I watched the dragon go, my heart still pounding as I tried to find the best way to go. The way ahead would take me through an open field; the nearest cover wouldn't be until the base of the mountain, and that was at least a mile away. I looked to my father's sword once again though and charged for the mountain, just hoping that I would be lucky.

Lindwell's Hero (Part II)

Arriving at my house, I couldn't help but groan--this shack of weathered wood was just another reminder of what the dragons had done to me. I clenched my fists as I felt the fire of despise growing in my chest. If I could, I would find a way to get my revenge on those stupid dragons, no matter what it took.

Opening the creaky wooden door and entering into my dark house I had to admit to myself that I would probably never get the chance to exact my revenge anyways, so I'd better just keep my mind on getting out of Lindwell. I could just run away, but where would I go? I was starting to understand that maybe it didn't matter. I lit a candle, it's small bit of light spreading through the entire house. There really wasn't much to it: a dirt floor, a pile of hay to sleep on, a few scraps of food, and some clothes heaped in the corner over my last few possessions. So what did I have to lose, really?

I plopped onto my bed and let my thoughts wander a bit, imagining what it would be like to finally be gone from this destitute little village. Friends? My friends had either joined the dragon riders or had forgotten about me after I had lost my parents. As for my family, I was an only child and my aunts and uncles were always traveling--they hadn't come to Lindwell in over five years.

At length I drifted off into sleep, too tired to even get myself up to eat. When I awoke the next morning the thought of food just barely won over my thoughts of leaving Lindwell. I grabbed some potatoes and other vegetables and headed out to start a fire. Over my fire pit hung my pot which I took to the village well for some water to cook my stew in. As I returned from the well I could see the sun starting to peak over the horizon in the east. I paused to consider what might be waiting for me there, when suddenly I felt a gust of air pass by me. Looking up I could see it: a dragon, holding something in its mouth.

I watched the dragon for several minutes as it flew, first going east then turning north to the mountains. And as I followed the dragon's path my mind started working: if I could get to the dragons' roost I could exact my revenge! But...that was a crazy idea--suicide, really. But as I started walking back to my little shack I really started to wonder, what did I have to lose?

Arriving at my house I poured the water in my pot and started dropping in the vegetables. After having put in what I wanted I went into my house. Staring at my pile of clothes and things I kept struggling with the thought of going to the mountains. I pulled on a shirt and pants and put on my brown leather shoes, each item reminding me in some way of my family. The wool shirt and leather shoes were once my fathers, and the pants were the first thing I ever bought after I had lost my parents. Even my yellowing woolen socks had been my mothers. And there was more than just clothes that they had left me. Kneeling down and digging through the pile of clothes I found my most treasured heirloom: my father's sword.

Lindwell's Hero

Lindwell--what a rotten city. The people here are all just caught up in their boring everyday lives, content to go out early in the morning to work the fields only to get back late at night so they could go to bed and repeat it all over again. It was droll and repetitive and I hated it.

"Wilhern, get moving! We have to get the wheat harvested before the frost comes!" So, I was caught up in it too, working for an old farmer who had too much land to handle on his own. It wasn't the path I had chosen; this lot in life was handed to me forcefully.

I swung my scythe into the wheat, gathering what I could and bundling it before repeating the process over and over and over. As I laid down a bundle a shadow passed over me just briefly, making me look to the skies for a moment. Of course it was them--they were the only ones who didn't have to work hard all day, because they were the lucky ones, the dragon riders. When a dragon chooses you as its companion you become part of an elite group, the one that everyone wanted to be part of. I just clenched my teeth and kept on working, though--I would find a way to get out of this dinky town on my own.

The day seemed to drag on in the field, occasionally a dragon flying by as if to remind me that I was stuck in the same old pattern. Things wouldn't be like this for me if not for the tragedy that had befallen me three years ago. I was fifteen when it all happened, living happily as the son of a successful merchant. I had all the time in the world then to go and watch the dragon riders play their games: dragon ball was a particular favorite, and since my childhood I had been an avid fan of the Golden Greathorns team. I would go every weekend they were in town, and was even lucky enough to attend one of their championship games one year. But then my parents had the accident that took them away from me.

I spat at the dirt, cursing at the dragons as one of them sailed over me. It was because of them I was working in the fields now instead of as heir of my father's merchant business. As I thought about it I started getting sloppy with my work, thrusting my scythe forcefully and without precision.

After another chiding or two from my boss the sun finally touched the horizon, meaning it was time to go home. But home didn't really get me excited; it was just a shell of what it once was, a hollow reminder of what my life had become. I headed to the old farmer's shack to put away my scythe and twine for the day and to collect my pay.

"You were really distracted today boy," he snapped as I entered the shack.

"Yeah, whatever," I spat as I wiped the sweat off my brow, "Can I just have my pay so I can go home, Mr. Franklin?"

"Here ya go," he grumbled as he handed my half a handful of coins, "Such a spoiled kid as you--you're lucky I still let you work here, you know that?"

"Yeah yeah, thank you," I replied, stretching out the words as I rolled my eyes.

Mr. Franklin let out a snort, but let me go on my way. I was just glad I didn't have to put up with that jerk until the next day.

Walking home on the dusty path I grumbled to myself: why had this happened to me? This was so unfair! One thing it had taught me for sure: I had to find a way out of Lindwell, and I had to do it on my own.