When Virgil and Raymond reached the town of
Portshead
There
was not one building left undamaged, not one ship in the docks unwrecked, not
one person left alive.
Only
the dragon remained, sat on the smashed town gate, waiting for them.
Raymond
first instinct was to charge the monster, but Virgil restrained him.
‘This
is not a little troll that you can kill with one blow,’ the old man told his
friend. ‘It is a dragon, the most dangerous beast to ever live. Be wise…
Besides, it will want to talk.’
‘Talk?’
Raymond grunted in disgust.
‘I
have long been expecting you,’ the dragon said in a voice far more gentle and
elegant than would be expected from it size and fearsome appearance.
It
was indeed fearsome. Its head alone was as big as a bull, covered in horns and ending
in a sharp beak. Its eyes were as cats eyes, but as blue as the sea, and as big
as plates. Its body was over a hundred paces long, and long spikes petruded all
along its spine. Its feet were webbed, but ended it long talons.
‘Virgil
the Oathbound and Raymond of Westmoorland…’ the dragon continued,’… they say
you are the greatest of living men. It is a pleasure to meet you.’
‘Come
down here and fight!’ Raymond`` roared.
“Oh
yes, we will fight, but not today. First I have a lesson for you.’
‘Now!’
Raymond shouted. ‘I don’t sit around talking to monsters.’
‘Wait,’
said Virgil, holding his friends shoulder. ‘Remember the sagas… The dragons
always talks with the hero, then there will be ritualized combat.’
‘Virgil
is right,’ said the dragon,’ that is how it is done in this Age. But it was not
always that way. I will give you a history lesson. How many Ages have there
been in this world?’
‘Three,’
replied Raymond. ‘The Age of Elves, the Age of Men and the Age of Monsters.’
‘Wrong,
that is what men think. There have been four Ages, the first was the Age of
Dragons. We dragons were once alone on the earth, then came the animals, then
elves, men and monsters, but all those were as children compared to us. In the
Age of Dragons, my ancestors slaughtered your ancestors like sheep. Then the
Age of Elves came. The Elves learnt the power of magic, and we dragons were
slaughtered like beasts. It was only when our numbers became few, and the Elves
learnt mercy, that we dragons became cunning and cruel.’
Raymond
listened carefully, he had not expected this.
‘The
rest you know…’ the dragon continued. ‘The strength of Elves faded, and men
learnt the power of fire and the working of metal, the Age of Mankind began. Men
and Dragons fought epic duels. Dragons were hunted for sport. Then the Elves
left this world, leaving men alone against the monsters. By that time the
dragons were thought to be destroyed… Yet I remained. I, the last of my people,
who will have revenge for my race!
I
have dedicated myself to the extermination of all mankind! I- the last dragon-
will fight Raymond- The Last Hero. I will slay you, then I will slay all of
your people… Just as your people slew mine.’
‘You
must kill me first,’ stated Raymond. ‘That will not be easy. Most likely, I
will slay you, and your race will die with you. Lost forever, remembered only
in stories for children.’
‘We
shall see,’ the dragon snapped. ‘Virgil and Raymond, I invite you to my home,
and challenge you to a Duel. Come to Bell Isle tomorrow, as the sun begins to
set, and be ready for combat.’
‘I
accept your challenge’, said Raymond. ‘Tomorrow we will meet, and one of us
will die.’
The
dragon nodded its head, then was away.
That
night, Virgil and Raymond made camp in the ruins of Portshead. They found a
stray chicken and built a good fire to cook it on.
Both
men were quiet that night, lost in their own thoughts.
Raymond
considered the epic task that awaited him. For the first time in his life he
considered the possibility that he might loose a fight. He was not afraid of death,
but nor did he desire to die. He still had work to do. Also, he gave some
thought to all that the dragon had told him- and did not know what to think.
Virgil
did not imagine for a moment that Raymond could fall to the dragon. He
considered only the many glorious possibilities after his friend had killed the
last dragon. It would guarantee Raymond’s place as the greatest hero in living
memory, and that have consequences. It might also set an example to other men,
and give humanity greater hope in its battle against monsters.
Finally, Virgil broke the silence.
‘The
dragon was wrong,’ Virgil stated. ‘There have been four Ages of this world.
First was the Age of the Gods… then the Gods created dragons, to show Their
great power. But the Gods went too far, they made stronger and mightier
dragons, untill the dragons challenged the Gods Themselves. There was a great
war in the sky, eventually the Gods were victorious, but the strength of
Dragons was still great… That was why the Gods created mankind- to fight
dragons, and all monsters.’
‘Long
have i suspected that this was the case,’ Raymond relpied.
The
next morning they searched the docks for any seaworthy boats, and could find
only a tiny rowing boat. On that, they set out for Bell Isle.
From
the outside the Isle was nothing but bare and jagged rocks, but when they
sailed around it, they found a barren bay, leading to a narrow river, lined
with dense vegetation and mighty trees. The river led to a vast lagoon with
clear, still water. The lagoon was surrounded by a golden beach, then gently
sloping rocks covered in rare and beautiful flowers of all colours.
The
dragon lay sleeping on the shore of the lagoon, stretched out, half submerged
between the blue water and gold sand. It ignored them at first.
‘The
Dragon is sleeping,’ Raymond said.
‘Dragons
never sleep,’ Virgil replied.
They
rowed up to the shore, twelve paces from the dragons head. They could see its
open eyes gazing at nothing, and its vast body rising and falling with its slow
breathing. Behind the dragon was the mouth of a large cave.
‘Dragon!’
Raymond roared as soon as his feet hit dry land. ‘It is time.’
‘Yes,’
the dragon replied calmly. ‘Welcome to my home. But before we fight, go into
the cave and take anything that you desire.’
‘I
want nothing of yours,’ Raymond said.
‘One
should know what one is turning down, before turning it down.’
‘Sound
advice,’ Virgil said.
They
went into the cave and found it piled high with treasure. Heaps of gold. Piles
of gems and silver. Marble statues. Suits of ancient armour. Swords, spears and
staffs of office.
Raymond
was unimpressed.
‘There
is nothing here that I need,’ he said, turning back to the dragon.
‘Do
not be so sure,’ said the dragon.
‘Look,’
Virgil pointed to the top of a pile of jewels. ‘It is Freja- Thorfast of
Garstang’s sword.
‘Correct,’
hissed the dragon. ‘The sword of the last King of men. I took it from his descendents.
Now I give it to Raymond.’
‘I
don’t need a weapon to fight,’ Raymond grunted.
‘Take
the sword. I wish for a fair fight… Once, long ago, dragons were noble being,
and I wish we could be so again…’
“I
will take it, for it is a pretty sword, and you are a noble foe. It will be
glorious to slay you.’
‘We
shall see. One of us shall die, and the hope of our people will die with us…
the heroes of men killed my parents when I was young, and I will avenge myself
on mankind, or die in the effort.’
‘Enough talking,
time to fight,’ Raymond told the dragon.
So they did.
In an instant,
the dragon grabbed Raymond with his huge, taloned hand and picked him up off
the ground. The air was crushed out of Raymond’s chest by the vast strength of
the dragon as he was lifted towards the dragon’s open mouth.
Before the
dragon could bite of his head, Raymond lashed out with the sword of kings,
cutting the dragon’s face.
The dragon was
forced to withdraw Raymond from his face, and became intent of crushing him to
death.
Raymond swung
the sword down, slashing the dragons paws. It took two blows of the mighty
sword to sever one of the dragon’s fingers.
The dragon
hissed with pain and rage, and dropped Raymond to the ground.
Raymond had only
a moment to catch his breath and get to his feet before the dragon attacked
again.
That time he was
ready.
The dragons came
at him head first, jaws gapping. Raymond leapt aside and stuck the sword into
the dragon’s eye. He thrust it deeper, into the dragon’s immense brain- and
slew it.
Raymond looked
into the dragon’s cold, dead eye.
Virgil had known
Raymond since he had been a child. The old man had found Raymond, a boy, sat on
the dead troll in the ruins of his village, and he had never seen his comrade
cry. Not even as a boy beside the corpses of his parents.
Virgil
saw the legend cry that day.
‘The
dragon was my brother,’ Raymond said. ‘He understood me. A part of me dies with
him. A part of the world dies with him.’
‘But
was it not glorious?’
There
was silence. Then the wind rustled the leaves.
‘Aye,’
Raymond laughed. ‘It was mightily glorious!’
