The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon

Interlude 8: A Promise Between Friends

Elerion stared at the horizon. The sun had set some time ago, but darkness had yet to fall. Instead, the sky was lit by vivid trails of violet, indigo, emerald, azure, and magenta. If they had been further north, he would have called it beautiful. After all, few men could say they’d travelled so far north as to witness the famous northern lights.

But this far south?

No. There was nothing beautiful about those lights. Instead, those who understood their true nature could only look upon them with growing dread. The dreaming lands were bleeding into the physical world – yet another sign that Kagami’s power had grown to truly monstrous proportions.

A vast shadow fell over him, and he bit back a curse. It never ceased to amaze him how silently Doomwing could move when he was so inclined. If he had to guess, the dragon was using several high-level spells in conjunction with powerful runes to conceal his approach. Of course, the dragon would deny doing so, but it simply wasn’t possible for someone so huge to move so quietly without the aid of magic.

“Tomorrow,” Doomwing rumbled. “One way or another, it ends tomorrow.” High above Elerion, golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and coils of powerful muscle tensed beneath gleaming scales of ruby and sapphire. “Are you afraid?”

Elerion gave a short bark of laughter and held out one hand. It was shaking. “Of course, I’m afraid. We’re miles away from her, and yet… I can feel her power without even trying. Kagami was always stronger than me. Now? She feels stronger than you, old friend.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I am strong,” Doomwing said. “But my strength pales in comparison to some of the foes I have faced.” The air grew heavy with power and regret. “If you could have seen what I have seen… as mighty as Kagami has become, she has not grown so powerful that I cannot imagine winning.”

“Have you ever faced a foe like that? A foe you couldn’t even imagine beating?”

Doomwing gave a low rumble. It came from deep within his chest, a sound like a mountainside giving way. “Yes.”

“Won? No.” Doomwing shook his head. “I should have died that day. I was young then, so young, but even now, after all these years and all the strength I’ve acquired, I cannot imagine beating that particular foe.” His gaze drifted to the broken sky above them. “There were more dragons then, my friend, so many more, so many it felt as if the sky could not contain them all.” For a moment, Doomwing seemed younger, and Elerion could almost imagine the hatchling he must have been so very long ago. “The mightiest of us still lived then, and the gods still walked the world.”

“What happened?” Elerion asked.

“They died. The greatest dragons who have ever lived and all the gods – they died. Almost all of my kind died. So many of us fell that day that our bones were piled as high as mountains and our scales were like grains of sand in a desert.”

Elerion was silent. What could he say to that. And then, despite the seriousness of the matter, he felt a wry smile tug at the corner of his lips. “Compared to someone who could do that, Kagami doesn’t seem so tough anymore.”

Doomwing’s grin was all teeth. “No. No, she does not.”

Elerion clenched his fist to keep his hand from trembling. “You must think me a coward.”

“No. If you weren’t afraid, I would think you a fool. You are not me, Elerion. You may be the greatest of men, but you are still a man. Your power cannot compare to mine, nor can it compare to Kagami’s. To her, you might as well be an ant. Besides, a coward would not be here. They would have fled long ago.”

“True, a coward would have fled.” Elerion chuckled. “Only a brave man… or a fool would have stayed.”

They passed the next few moments in silence, and Elerion found his gaze drawn to his reflection in the lake before him. His violet eyes were still keen, but his face was lean and weathered, and his hair was now more grey than gold. He’d gotten old, or perhaps he’d been old for some time and only just now realised it. It had been so easy to miss the seasons slipping by with Kagami and Hikari by his side. He’d been so happy. They’d been so happy.

“You’re going to die. You know that, don’t you?” Doomwing murmured. “Tomorrow, during the battle. There is no way you will live through it. If Kagami doesn’t kill you herself, then one of her lackeys surely will. Neither Marcus nor I will be able to protect you, not with all the foes we shall have to face ourselves. Even in your prime that would be true. As you are now…”

Elerion’s lips curled. “Just say it, old friend. I’m an old man, far past my prime. Even if Kagami hadn’t gone insane and decided to murder us all, I’d last another decade at best.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

He glanced over his shoulder, back toward the camp where his followers had gathered. Good, reliable men, all of them. Some had been with him from the start, and most had grown up never knowing any other king but him. He was the High King, and they followed because he led, because they believed that as long as he lived, there was a chance they could win, no matter how hopeless the battle.

There was a chance they could win, but victory would not come at their swords and spears. No. What hope they had of victory rested in Doomwing. They were there to keep the dragon from being overrun. They would die – all of them – in the hope that their deaths would buy enough time for Doomwing to do what he had to.

It would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so tragic.

“I lied to them, you know,” Elerion said. “When they asked me if we could win. I said we could.”

“We can. We will.”

“Maybe. But I left out the part where they’re all going to die. I left out the part where I’m going to die.” Elerion took a deep breath. “My younger self would be disgusted. But… I’ve been High King for a long time, Doomwing. Life isn’t a fairy tale. Sometimes, the truth doesn’t set you free.”

The dragon gave a deep, sonorous growl. The lake shook, and Elerion trembled. “You are as foolish now as you were when we first me! Do you think they do not know? They have seen with their own eyes what Kagami and her followers can do. They know how hopelessly outmatched they are. They know that their only purpose is to give their lives, so that I can face Kagami without being overrun.”

“Then why…?”

“Because you are their king. Because they trust that you would not ask this of them if there was any other way… and because they love what they have left behind more than they fear the foe that awaits them.” Doomwing’s gaze drifted to the sky once more. “Besides, if they ran, where could they go that Kagami could not follow? Better to die here when victory is still possible than to run and surrender to certain defeat, however long and lingering it might be.”

Elerion swallowed thickly. There was still much he wanted to say, yet he could not find the words, or perhaps he feared putting into words the thoughts that refused to leave his mind. To speak his fears would make them real, and now, more than ever, he could not afford to let his fears overwhelm him.

“Do you think we will be remembered?” Elerion asked at last. “It seems silly, but if we’re all going to die here, I want us to be remembered.”

“By whom?”

“By somebody,” Elerion said. “By… by our descendants or whatever kingdoms of men remain after this. I just… they’re good people, Doomwing. They don’t deserve to be forgotten. And I… I want to believe that I’ve been a good king. I don’t want to be forgotten either.”

The dragon stared down at him, and the weight of his gaze was heavier than a mountain. The years fell away, and Elerion was no longer High King. He was that stupid, foolish farm boy who’d somehow managed to convince a dragon that he wasn’t worth eating. In that moment, all it would have taken was a single word from Doomwing to shatter his resolve. In the past, perhaps, Doomwing might have done so. Elerion knew better than most that the dragon was not one to temper his words merely to spare the feelings of others.

And yet the words of criticism did not come – at least, not in the way Elerion expected.

“You will be forgotten,” Doomwing said. “You are a king of men, and men’s memories are short. No matter how valiant your deeds or how wise your kingship, the day will come when the kingdoms of men forget your name and your deeds pass beyond even myth and legend.”

Elerion flinched as if struck, but Doomwing pressed on regardless.

“But I am not a man. I am a dragon. I am Doomwing. I was born when the gods still walked the world. I remember the embrace of Mother Tree before her fall. I watched the oceans rise, and I saw the dead sweep like a black plague across the world. I fought the star who fell, and now I face a weaver of dreams gone mad. I, Doomwing, have seen all these things. I, Doomwing, have forgotten more than most will ever know. And I promise you this, Elerion. Your own people may forget you. Your deeds, your rule, even your very name may slip from the memories of your descendants. But I, Doomwing, will not forget you. From this day until my last day, I shall remember you.”

Elerion opened his mouth to reply, but the words refused to come. Instead, he could only bow his head in thanks and pretend that the moisture upon his cheeks came from the rain that had just then started to fall.

“Go.” Doomwing tilted his head toward the camp. “You have spent long enough here. Spend your last night with those who have chosen to give their lives alongside you. Smile. Laugh. Live. Let them know their king still believes that victory is possible. Let their last memories of the man who leads them be of a High King worthy of the title. And tomorrow… tomorrow lead them, lead them to an end worthy of story and song. Let my last memories of my friend be not of the boy he was but the man – the king – he became.” And then, more softly, so softly that it was little more than a breeze brushing past. “Go.”

Those would be the last words they ever spoke to each other.

And the last time Doomwing would ever see Elerion alive, the High King would be blind, his armour rent, his sword and shield shattered, and his body covered in countless wounds. His bannerman would lie dead beside him, loyal to the last, the king’s banner trampled into the blood and muck of the battlefield. The bodies of his foes would be piled high around him, and there would be a smile on his lips as he burned his very soul as fuel to keep himself on his feet just a moment longer – and to ensure that he was beyond healing.

Even then, in the midst of that most terrible of battles, Elerion could feel Doomwing’s gaze upon him. If he could be saved, the dragon might try to save him, a weakness Kagami would surely exploit. And so he burnt his soul as fuel to keep himself standing, to let himself fight a little longer – and because doing so would put him beyond even Doomwing’s ability to heal.

Wounded to his death, Elerion tried to speak. But the words would not come, not past the blood clogging his throat and the terrible weakness clawing at his limbs.

“Go,” he wanted to say. “Look not behind you at a dying man. Turn your gaze to the future only you will live to see.” Instead, all he could do was smile.

And so he died, a smile on his lips.

And that was how Doomwing would always remember him. Not simply as the farm boy with more bravery than common sense, but as the man who died smiling. A good king, but a better friend.