Open Chronicles Dragon fire on the mountainside

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”… The tall mountains that make the Spine are the domain of great beasts. Perching on their peaks is a dragon. Sometimes, if you listen closely, you can hear his shriek carried by the howling winds. Even though the air is so cold every breath hurts your lungs, he is impervious to the frost and the snow. For he is pure fire, cast in a shell of bronze scales, with spearheads for fangs and talons. His wings like great sails of toughest leather. Even his gentle sighs can turn coldest stone to smoldering coals. His name, hmm? Out of respect, no-one speaks his name. In an ancient tongue, it means The Fiery Scourge, for he is as old as the tallest tress in the forests bellow the slopes of the Spine. And none would wish him to descend from the mountains--”

The woman paused the recounting of the tale, as a shadow was cast from the bedroom doorway, a tall figure leaning against the threshold with folded arms. The woman looked back over her shoulder, from where she sat on the edge of a small bed. The small voice of a small girl, tucked in the small bed, asked with some impatience: “Why not? Would he eat all the cakes?”

With a soft chuckle, the woman’s gaze turned back to the child. “All the cakes and all the oxen in the field.”

“Can’t he rather have all the sheep and spare the oxen? That would be better. I don’t like mutton very much.”

“I am not sure, my own darling. They take what they want. Dragons are not… easy to barter with. Besides, once burned to a crisp, it is hard to tell an ox from a horse. Or a sheep from a little girl who stayed up past her bedtime,” the woman added, pulling the covers higher and smoothing them over the girl that had already been tucked in, but demanded a story and then another story.

“I will persuade him. Tomorrow I will go, and I will do it… Offer all the mutton. And some cakes to be… fair…” The little girl announced, between a wide yawn. Sleep started to weigh her eyelids and she felt a soft kiss pressed to the top of her fair head and how golden hair brushed her cheek, before the comforting weight dipping the mattress was gone. Looking to the doorway, she saw two figures standing there close and thought she heard a deep voice say: "So, I am to be a dragon tomorrow, hmm?"

As the door was closed, turning her little head on her pillow, the little girl gazed on the flame of the one candle left in her bedroom. The flame flickered and cast a soft glow.

* * * * * * * * *

The flame flickered, threatening to go out.

“Even his gentle sighs turned coldest stone to smoldering coals,” the young woman whispered and inched closer. She blew a soft, long breath and then another. The flame grew and devoured the dry grass used for kindling, before catching the nest of twigs and dry branches.

“Finally!” Lucia sighed with relief, sitting back before the small fire she’d been able to light after some difficulties. If only she’d had something to cook over her fire. She’d passed a river earlier that day but decided against taking the time and try her luck at fishing. After all, she’d been so sure she would have reached a settlement before nightfall. But as the sun had started to set, she’d been forced to give up her hopes of sleeping in a bed at a tavern or haystack in a barn. In all honesty, she did not mind spending another night beneath the open sky. Missing out on a warm meal was far more disappointing. If only she had not eaten the last of her food earlier…

“Even mutton stew would be grand about now,” Lucia muttered aloud to herself, head falling back and her gaze raised to the quickly darkening sky. The spot she’d found was a bit off the path through the woods she’d been on, but she would not have had any shelter should the weather have turned. Settling near a stream, she at least had access to fresh water. The first few sips she’d had from cupped hands dipped into the stream had been very cold, but delicious and quenched her thirst. Probably better than a pint - nay, a tankard of ale at a tavern would have. The stream most likely split off from the great rivers, streaming down from the mountain slopes. Beyond these woods was the Spine, the destination she’d set for herself. Who knew what she would find there, hidden in the many valleys – maybe even a fire-breathing dragon bathing in a lake of ice.

If you listen closely, you can hear his shriek carried by the howling winds.

There was not much wind during the darking hours, no rustling of leaves in the trees. Even the birds seemed to have gone to sleep in their nests, woodland creatures hidden away in their dens. There was only the steady sound of the running stream next to her and--- Something. Resisting the urge to jump up like a scared deer, Lucia willed herself to stay very still. Her piercing blue gaze slowly scanned her surroundings, as her hand slowly inched to her hip, fingertips brushing the hilt of her sheathed dagger.
 
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Edderick had been traveling the mountains for quite some time. She didn't really remember how many days, only keeping her eyes on the ration count. She hoped there would be somewhere to work soon. Somewhere where she can stand somewhere, look tough and get a belly full. Though knowing her luck, she knew it would probably just be another job digging trenches or washing dishes.

The truth, even if Edderick didn't want to admit it, was that she would take any direction at this point. Because she was lost. Not hungry yet, but that was coming soon.

"At least the bag will be lighter." Edderick joked, half hoping to hear some chuckle. The truth was she had been adventuring alone for a long time.

When the night came, Edderick knew she should find some place to camp, but the feeling of someone watching kept her moving into the brush and woods. She was quiet as a mouse, her soft boots rustling forgotten leaves and twigs with an animal anxiety. the foliage was mostly undisturbed, which gave the young monster hunter courage.

Just like what Grandma always said. Edderick thought to herself. No flipped leaves mean no clumsy trolls.

But Edderick's attitude changed when she heard some muttering beyond the brush. She looked in that direction, her hand resting on a blade and an inaudible curse to the failing magic of the world that she couldn't figure out what made the noise the easy way. Edderick crept closer, as quiet as one can be in leather boots on leaves, moving her boots above the leaves for the most part and softly putting weight on the fickle rustling noisemakers. She was only a few steps away from the stream, scanning in the dark for any figure that might be a threat, no seeing Lucia lying there.
 
It could be a wild beast, Lucia considered. What was one supposed to again, if faced with a dangerous animal? Play dead and-- Oh yes, cripple the person next to you and then slowly back away. Or so she’d been told. The person who’d said that might have been grinning wickedly, but really, it was valid advice. In the wilderness, it was survival of the fittest, the shrewdest and the fastest.

It could also be cut-throats, hiding in the bushes and slowly wrapping their coin-grubbing fingers around the grip of their weapon. Perhaps a dagger or sword looted off the last person they killed for a pair of boots, their horse or enough coin to buy two meals and pitcher of piss-flavored ale. Ugh, even the briefest thought of a food made her stomach clench a little. Lucia really was at that moment too hungry to be properly afraid. And she most certainly had good reason to be afraid, for it could have been an orc! A big, brutish and hungry orc. The woman raked her mind, trying to recall words from her limited vocabulary of the orcish tongue. She silently mouthed the words to herself, practicing to plea that she would not make a tasty meal. Though if she’d actually had spoken the words aloud, they would have translated as ‘No food me bad’.

Oh well. What ever it might be, she’d best face it on her feet. Resigned to her fate and the possibility of her adventures cut short, Lucia shifted first to crouch and then stand up. But her hand remained wrapped around the handle of her dagger.

It could be a dragon. The fleeting thought actually made her chuckle. Against a fire-breathing dragon, her dagger was not going to save her. Even a broad-sword might not be enough – not that she’d ever owned a broad-sword. Or a shield. Both were too heavy and clumsy for her taste, were she even strong enough to hold both of those up at the same time. But… that did give her an idea.

“Be warned,” she called out into the darkness. “There’s a dragon nearby. He is sure to turn up any moment now. He’s very thirsty you see and drinks from the stream here. And he's probably very hungry, too.” She tried her best to sound serious while looking around, watchful of the shadows her small campfire cast against the dark woods. “I’d get far, far away from here--- But if you have some food, leave it as an offering, a gesture of good will.” She added the last part, applauding herself for her quick thinking.
 
Edderick heard the sudden announcement of a dragon and took her hand off her blade. Frankly she didn't believe the voice. Not because of any perceived mistakes in the performance but rather a practical fact.

"Must be a small dragon." Edderick called out the bluff and moved to the voice. The wooded area was frankly too small of a space to be spared destruction from the beast of fire and fury.

"You a local?" Edderick was sounding hopeful, her gait a little more relaxed as she made her way to the voice. Her boots rustling leaves with little care now. The smell of burning wood now explained with Edderick noticing the smoke and orange dancing flames.
 
"Must be a small dragon," a voice called out in response. Telling herself to stay calm, act aloof, Lucia took a few measured steps to set the small fire between herself and whoever was approaching. A small precaution, for a lone traveler could never be too careful. Especially a woman, as it had been pointed out to her once, the statement accompanied by leering gazes measuring her up. How much of a fight might a lean thing like her put up if grabbed, how light the load would be to carry if slung over a shoulder and carried off into the shrubbery or behind a barn. The same man had to his great pain forgotten, that even a young woman’s knee could feel like a horse’s kick if carefully aimed to the tender bits.

“A dragon, small or large, is still a dragon,” Lucia argued. “And if indeed it was a tiny dragon, a babe dragon, surely the mother cannot be far away.” But it did not seem like her threats about a possible dragon were enough to scare off the stranger in the night. Thinking quickly, Lucia tried another approach. A local would not ask if someone else was a local, for they would recognize their neighbors. Either a familiar face at a market, trading some skins for a sack of grain, or a hereditary rivalry over land dating back at least three generations. It was strange though to be asked that question. Usually, people simply deducted or assumed ‘You are not from around here’. If only she’d have a coin for every time she’d heard that, she’d have-- Well, not a hoard worthy of a dragon. But enough to buy a nice sturdy wagon and a healthy horse. Maybe two horses to pull it, depending on what the rates for a horse were now-a-days. Apparently, the price on sheep had gone up. Surely for the wool, as Lucia could not phantom mutton possibly being in high demand.

“I am…” An idea struck her and she went with it. “… a woodland spirit. I may be malicious, but I might also be benevolent and kind, if those who cross my path are respectful.”
 
Edderick took a deep breath and let it out. She saw the figure. As Lucia has trained so well, Edderick does. Sizing up the other person in her view. Edderick wasn't large, but her physique was distinctly square with stacks of leather and flowy, plain clothing. The cold of the mountain was held back by a cloak, which at this point was brushed to her back, pulling along in the leaves and brush.

Edderick stopped a good fair distance from the fire and tried to figure by vague shapes if the woodland spirit statement was true. She didn't see anything super telling, no luminescence, no skull echoing voices. That didn't mean she wasn't one, just meant she wasn't obvious. The adventurer bit her cheek in thought as she looked gingerly around the area for mushrooms or flowers.

"Well forgive me for walking in on your territory. I don't have cakes or any trinkets to tribute." Something suddenly dawned on Edderick as she audibly scoffed at herself. "But I have some nuts and tack, if you happen to have a mortal belly."

Edderick adjusted, throwing a bag on the floor with a thump and kneeling down to search for her food. rustling through coins, potions wrapped in leather, dull daggers, a rope and several pitons and spikes.
 
Finally the stranger revealed themselves, stepping into the light of the fire. Unlike the stranger, clearly dressed to withstand the elements and perhaps something with fangs and claws, Lucia was dressed as lightly as she traveled. Her cloak would not keep her warm from icy winds, but then she’d planned to buy some pelts or furs before venturing into the mountains. She’d probably be knee deep in snow, thus a few pelts strung around her high boots would also have been a good investment.

Had her hair not been tied back, she might have come off a bit more ethereal, with long golden locks flowing past her shoulders. But she still had her eyes, shining icy blue even if there’d not been the flickering light of flames between them.

“Nuts and tack, you say?” At that moment, it would have been embarrassing had her stomach growled. “Well… If you have nothing else… Alright, I shall be merciful and accept this offering of yours. Half a loaf of stale bread from a beggar, is more in the grand scale of things, than say a precious gem off the pinky finger of a king,” the would-be-spirit said, raising and hand and curling her fingers as she did, save for the dainty little pinky finger of hers.

Trying not to be too obvious about it, she eyed the bag and glimpsed the content. Was that the sound of bottles? “Say… you would not happen to have something in a flask to… well…. wash down these meager offerings of yours?” It could not hurt to ask!
 
Edderick looked up a bit surprised before chuckling and reaching into her bag and fishing out a small rotund bottle with a swing-top stopper.

"Mostly potions, but I do have some lemonade." Edderick offered the bottle out towards the figure, inviting them to get closer. Her other hand kept at finding those ration, resorting to looking in the side pouches and finally finding it on her belt.

"It's going to be a little weird at first." Edderick remembered looking to the bottle. "It's perfectly safe, just back in my home we tend to like our drinks, uhmm, sparkly? Have you ever heard of Volta?"
 
Lemonade, huh? That was a welcome change. Ever since Lucia had spirited herself away in the middle of the night-- Spirited, hah! Well, ever since then, her rosy lips had not touched fine chalices of delicate glass and drank the finer vintages of a lord’s manor. And the cutlery had not been polished so fine by the scullery maids, you could use a spoon as a small hand mirror. Usually, the drinks passed around a campfire were watered down wines, stale ale or some questionable grog concoction. A cup of fresh milk was a delicacy, a palatable wine a luxury.

“Lemonade, you say? Hmm… that will be acceptable,” Lucia-the-spirit deemed, trying to downplay her eagerness with hummed words, even as she was moving a bit closer to Edderick and receive this offering.

Volta did ring a distant bell, a place she’d heard of but would not have been able to pinpoint on a map. Mostly because the place names scribbled onto maps were hard for her to read. Little by little, she’d started to piece together a map in her mind, but it was far from completed. To do so in one lifetime was ambitious – but not impossible. As long as you did not get your throat slit by a stranger on the road in the middle of the night. Or caught stealing a juicy apple. Or horse. Or escaping the orchard on the owners horse with his purse tucked inside your vest.


But what would a woodland spirit know of faraway places?

“Volta? Have your journeyed far-- Umm... What name do you go by, traveler? So I can tell the... ah... river spirit. My second cousin, twice removed. Mother's side." Lucia explained, gesturing toward the river streaming nearby. "I shall tell them to not drown you. That one is not as benevolent as me, you see.”
 
The lemonaid was fizzy to touch the tongue and more tart than sweet. Even the opening of the bottle was accompanied by a forceful pop and a little sizzle of loosened pressure.Edderick watched for a reaction with a smirk. She knew the first time you drink from Volta lemonaide was like drinking a magic missile.

"In Volta, fresh water is rare. So we, uh, learned how to make it fresh, but it usually tastes pretty awful. So we ended up figuring out that when you mix it with lemons and sugar cane you get something good."

Edderick looked to the fire and relaxed a bit as she took her seat and unraveled the wrapped nuts and tack on her lap.

"My name is Edderick, Miss Woodland Spirit. I did travel far. Usually by horse, but my last mare found herself a home with some wild ones and I felt it right to let her go. Kind of regret it."

Edderick's fingers sorted out a small pile of calories for the other woman.

"What is your name? You know, I have family who are in good company of a few spirits, I might know someone you know."
 
The fizziness and tartness did surprise Lucia, the explosion in her mouth triggering a reflex to swallow it down quickly. The second sip from the flask was savored, the woman holding it and feeling the sparkling sensation in her mouth, the tartness tickling her tongue. Was this what it felt like, she wondered, if a horse chomped down on a lemon from a tree and ended up with a few butterflies fluttering around inside its mouth? Or if a dragon flew down into an orchard, devouring fruits along with the branches and small lambkins alive in one massive chomp? But then, dragons roasted their food first, didn’t they?

As the traveler sat down – Edderick as they’d introduced themselves – Lucia crouched down as well, watching a small stack of meager offerings being set out for them equally. It was not banquette dinner, and certainly not roasted lambkin, but for a hungry traveler a small feast.

“My name, hmm?” The woman did not give her name lightly. While not a wanted criminal on the run - though she might have once or twice or twelve times taken something that was not hers – she also knew that there was at least one person desperate to have her found and returned. Who knew if the person in question would have gone as far as hiring bounty hunters. But upholding the rouse she’d started also required a bit of creativity.

“Out of respect, no-one speaks my name,” she said, quoting a woman of striking resemblance to herself. The same piercing blue eyes, the same golden hair. “In an ancient tongue, it means… The Jesting Evenfall. You see, I am half as old as old as the tallest tress in the forests bellow the slopes of the Spine.” Taking one more sip of the lemonade – and acquired taste, for sure, but she was starting to like it – Lucia then offered the bottle back to Edderick to be shared between them. She was a benevolent woodland spirit, after all.

“But in your coarse and oh so brutish common tongue, it does sound a bit like Luci-- Oh heck, you may call me Lucia. That is acceptable, yes.”
 
Edderick took the lemonade back and enjoyed herself a tart swig.

"Well Lucia, it's good to meet a spirit who understands mortal limitation."

Edderick took her pile of nuts and small pieces of tack and began to eat. The taste was at worst bland. Simple. Her motions slow and her chewing a bit exaggerated.

"Tell me about this dragon. Is there really one nearby?"
 
Easing down to sit, Lucia’s slender fingers hovered over the neat little pile of offerings. With an exaggerated flourish, she picked up a nut and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly. Despite her hunger, she took her sweet time eating the small share. Both to savor it, pretend it was a larger meal than small snacks, but also because spirits were elegant creatures, or so she assumed. Probably had small bellies and thrived on only a handful of berries or single apple a day – the ripest, most juicy ones of course. Meanwhile beasts had large bellies, large enough to stuff a whole adult man. And dragons of course had even larger ones, able to fit a whole heard of sheep.

When Eddrick asked about the dragon, Lucia thought about the nights in a manor far away, a small bedroom and a little bed. Of silken fine sheets and soft pillows. Of golden hair as fine as spun golden silk, a soft voice and a mother’s warm and comforting embrace. That was a long time ago, the memories growing more and more hazy. But the stories remained with her.

”Up there in the mountains is the domain of great beasts. And perching on their highest peaks is a dragon,” Lucia conveyed the story as it had been told to her. “Sometimes, you can hear his shriek carried by the howling winds. Unless of course you wear a thick fur hat, I think. Or your ears have frozen off. It’s very cold up there, you know. But even though the air is so cold that your mortal lungs might freeze and bust, the dragon is not at all fuzzed about it. You see, a dragon is fire trapped inside a shell of armor. A blacksmith would make quite a reputation for himself - and what a fortune! - if he could create something as hat resistant and extraordinary.” Lucia paused there to pop the tack into her mouth, reaching for the bottle to wash down the dry feel it left in her mouth.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Big fangs and talons. Huge and sharp. Very dangerous. And a single dragon’s wing is big enough to dress a big ship with sails and one to spare. I also have it on good authority that this one is partial to oxen and children. Not so much sheep. So, if you have the ill fortune to stumble on him… I suggest bleating and then running as if you were on fire-- Hah! Fire, how adequate. ”
 
Edderick listened intently as she looked towards the mountains being mentioned.

"Well, it would suck to have your home around here then. I was hoping I was heading away from trouble, so hopefully I won't need to get involved."

Edderick took some time looking over Lucia again, trying to pinpoint something that just felt off about her. Edderick didn't really doubt the spirit spin. It wasn't out of the ordinary. Or at least it wasn't before she noticed the fire.

"Hey, if you are a spirit of the woods, then why did you make a fire?"
 
”Aaah—An excellent question!” Lucia noted, nodding her head and mulled over it. She bought herself some time to think by adding to the fire two of the fallen and branches she’d collected, when searching the surrounding area for something to eat. Alas, there’d only been the small river to provide some water to quench her thirst and wipe her face.

“Well you see… that is… Fire and water are natural things. And I will have you know, spirits can get cold too.” Lucia doubted there was any written claims to counter her statement. After all, spirits were mostly found in books of lore, not the heavy and dusty tomes of scholars with their equations and dates and complicated formulas that made you head spin and eyes ache. Four times 3 with six-or-seven zeroes subtracted with the eight night of the summer month in the year of two measurements of virgin blood and three frog feet. Though the fizzy lemonade was not as potent as the half-a-year mulled ales or decade matured malts, it might not have been aiding her thought process. Bubbles going to the head and tongue curling from the mixture of sweet and tart.

But looking at the small fire she’d so labored to light, and the few nuts and tack having for the time being soothed the painful churn of hunger in her belly, Lucia pondered beyond that.

“Human, elf or orc – they all feel things. Cold and hunger and pain and anger. As do creatures. A lambkin bleats for its mother ewe, seeking her warmth and comfort. Even a dragon – while no, he does not feel cold – can be content or disgruntled. Who knows, maybe a dragon too can feel things such as joy and loneliness, love and sorrow. I have not asked… Maybe, someday I will.”

Lucia took one more swing from the bottle, before passing it back to Edderick with a question: “Do you get lonely on your travels, Edderick?”
 
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