217 - “Rise Again” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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For two full days, snow had fallen on the mountain, and the canyon winds had funneled the blizzard over the shrine. The terraces, the bridge, the scattered rubble, and the twisted dragon’s body were all covered over in almost two feet of new snow. The bony skeleton of the bridge’s structure underneath held it steady, but the damage from the fight was still evident. The stone debris lay in scattered shambles across the walkway, and the snow, gray in the dim, blended into the charred black stones where the dragon had spit its last flames.

Several of the layered pools along the wall of the canyon had been emptied when the force of the dragon’s body clambering over them crushed the ledges holding the water in place. Without the hot water filling them, the shells were now buried in snow. Jagged stones from the damage stuck up like knives through the snow. The hot springs still flowed, cutting down the side of the mountain in steaming streams, keeping the snow at bay until they faded into the mists in the valley below. Ice flows on either side of the streams dripped in the gray light like blood from daggers. The rising heat of the waters underneath had not yet had time to melt the snow on the bridge, but icicles from that afternoon were starting to dangle from its precipices.

The night weighed heavy on the canyon and the thick darkness of shadow descended. The only sounds were the wooing winds and the haunting mumbled conversations of the springs and falls.

On the bridge near the shrine, a bit of the snow shifted. It crunched a little in the quiet, bumping up a few inches.

Then another piece near it moved, as if a small animal were burrowing under its surface. Then, for a moment, there was an uncertain still again.

Quickly, the snow shook and rustled from side to side with a fiercer motion. A clump of snow rose up, like something was trying to break out from under it into the dark air.

A dark hand burst out. It swung from side to side, sweeping the snow away. It’s motions were jerks and strokes, like its arm below were still frozen and lifeless.

Soon, a second hand emerged and shoved more of the snow aside.

A dark head and torso sat up, and turned over, straining to stand. His face was dark and scaly, and his hair matted and tangled. When he stood, he shook as if his limbs were uncertain of how to be steady. He tossed his cloak to cast off the snow, then bent and reached back into the snow to pull out his spear.

He meticulously began walking across the bridge, stumbling through the snow toward the path down the mountain.


“It will take him a long time to get back here.” Tonklyn said, as he and Kirraxal watched the drama unfold on their shadow stage in the throne room. That’s why Kirraxal wasn’t angry after the battle. It doesn’t matter as much if he’s not so good at fighting. He’ll just wake back up. I wonder how many unlives he has. One more? Two? Maybe he’s undying. 

“True.” Kirraxal agreed. “Maybe I should send him to Emberfire City to wait for you there.”

Maybe. This is an interesting twist that I’ll need to plan for.

“As you command, Your Majesty. As you command.”

<<<>>>

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205 - “Visions in Smoke” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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“You are defeated! End this fight!” The odd warrior’s voice echoed through the dim of Kirraxal’s throne room. The great black dragon lounged on the rich plush padding on his stone dais. As always, Tonklyn stood beside him, along with the everpresent watch of the dragonbonded guard.

Before them swirled a foggy mist of blackness that moved and shifted into shapes. Like ghostly actors on a haunted stage, the mist played out the vision of the distant dragonbonded soldier, the one that Kirraxal had tasked with finding the dragon friend, Giatrice.

At the moment, the soldier was lying on his back and his view was staring up the threatening shaft of his own spear, now held at his throat.

This man fights strangely, attacking with only his bare hands and feet. And yet he’s defeated our armed soldier! The downed figure squirmed, then his hand shot forward. A dark dagger flashed in the sunlight, sticking deep into the abdomen of the opponent. The man reacted in pain, then leaned into the spear, thrusting it forward. The vision before them lurched and went dark, then dissipated into smoke.

The room fell silent.

Tonklyn hesitated, unsure how Kirraxal would react.

The dragon only harrumphed out some smoke, then raised his head up. Finally, he spoke. “Well, I had hoped that one of those dragons would have been able to draw out the dragonfriend. No matter.”

Tonklyn nodded. No raging fury today. Good. “Maybe Giatrice was one of the party there at the shrine. Maybehe’s the old man standing there behind them.”

Kirraxal nodded. He stretched his neck out, wrapping it around his body and settling his head. “He will yet be found. Leave me, now.”

As Tonklyn bowed, Kirraxal added. “These two dragons have served me well. Soon, when you go to speak with them, we’ll offer them high places in my kingdom. Especially Gerixain.”

Tonklyn raised up. “Is he the large greenish one?”

“No,” Kirraxal corrected, “she is.”

Tonklyn smirked, nodded, and stepped away.

<<<>>>

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196 - “Finding Dragons” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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Part 15

Emberfire

In the previous part: 

After the attack by the wood elven patrol, the party of heroes is scattered. Thissraelle, in a panic, uses dimensional magic to teleport randomly away. Eddiwarth manages to get a magical strike off before being overcome by an attacker smothering him with mage’s bane, and being carried away.

This leaves Parith angry and frustrated, Korr badly wounded, with Karendle dangling up in a tree. After freeing each other, they argue and prepare to go tracking after Eddiwarth.

Meanwhile, Thissraelle has found help in a young wood elven nature mage named Illariel. The girl’s cheerful, helpful personality quickly wins Thissraelle’s trust and they soon rejoin the party. They discover that the patrol of wood elves that had attacked them has been themselves attacked by an insurgent squad of high elven soldiers. This is further complicated by the fact that this group of soldiers is led by Illitharin, of the Dragon’s Flame, who was involved in the planning of the cathedral attacks, and has been pursuing Thissraelle (through Karendle) for months. Thissraelle and Parith must both confront their own prejudices and come together to rescue Eddiwarth.

The party pursues the high elves. Karendle approaches them, pretending to have captured Thissraelle. In the ensuing fight, Illitharin is killed, Eddiwarth and Karendle are both wounded, the remaining wood elves freed, and the invading high elves scattered. 

The party then recovers and weathers out a snowstorm in the town of TreeHaven while the wood elven leaders decide if they believe that Thissraelle and Eddiwarth are not spies. During this time, Thissraelle and Eddiwarth come to accept their feelings for each other.

Finally, the wood elves, encouraged by Illariel, welcome them and help equip them and guide them to a mountain trail to find a shrine to the “Dragonfriend”.

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196 - “Finding Dragons” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes 

Tonklyn stepped light and quick across the stone floor of the wide, dark hallway. Only a few dim oculi mounted in the walls indicated the angles, doorways, and intersections of this part of the mountain palace. Kirraxal prefers the shadow.  

Tonklyn turned a corner. There was only one more concourse of stairs before he stepped up into a large antechamber. There were other entrances to the this space, but none as prominent. Directly opposite the stairs stood a set of broad and thick wooden double doors. These had been ornately carved and intricately inlaid with silver flourishes in waving geometric patterns flowing upwards to the high arching tips of the entranceway.

Men-at-arms standing at each side of the door stepped forward as they saw Tonklyn exit the stairwell then pushed the great doors open for him. They bowed, but Tonklyn didn’t acknowledge their presence as he strode through the doors into the great hall and the throne room beyond.

The throne room was very tall and wide, and the smoothly carved stone walls echoed the creak of the door and Tonklyn’s shuffling, padded feet. This room, and the whole complex, had been hollowed out centuries before from the solid rock of the interior of the mountain using rock masons and stone-shaping nature mages, all probably slaves. Its high ceiling was held up by thick pillars and buttresses with pointed arches. The light of magical gems floated dimly down through the thick air above. It all reminded Tonklyn of the very cathedrals they had so recently burned down. Except there are no delicate stained glass windows or rows of fancy pews. These carved dragons for pillars are probably not so religious, either.

Since the discovery of the crown and the wealth of the treasure hoard, they had opened up and cleaned out many other areas of the traditional palace of the Dragon Kings. Kirraxal preferred the regal manner of this room for all of his official business. He lay, now, with his legs and tail curled up, on a wide stone gilt dais that was the throne - his throne. His long black neck held his head fully up and alert, even if his body looked casually relaxed.

Tonklyn crossed the long and empty space to his liege master as quickly as he could without breaking into the indignity of a run. As he approached, he saw the ever vigilant figure of the dragon’s guardian, clad in black mail and a black tunic, to Kirraxal’s left. He was one of the dragonbonded. Once a living servant, he had become a dead, but living and unspeaking, unsleeping bodyguard to Kirraxal. The dragon's shadow power bound them together. Tonklyn shuddered. I will never get used to him. 

The Dragon King spoke, “You take your time, don’t you?”

Tonklyn bowed before the dais, then stood again and smiled before taking his place at the right of Kirraxal.

“Be that as it may,” the dragon continued, “your research has proven useful, it seems. If you’ll remember, you suspected there to be more dragons of full-blood, not just drakes, living in the caves and volcanoes of the Emberfire Mountain Front. The dragonbonded that was sent there has found a few.”

Tonklyn smiled and nodded an abbreviated bow. “That is good news. That could help us if we ever hope to overcome those that are currently serving the elves in Emberfire City.”

Kirraxal spat a huge flaming wad in disgust. It splattered great drops of smoking fire onto the floor before the dais. “Dragons serving the two-legs! Really! How far we’ve fallen.”

Tonklyn raised an eyebrow. “True.”

“But no more. I will rally them all. The blood of kings is in them! They’ll turn to me.”

“They will, your majesty!”

“Soon, I’ll send you to negotiate with them, to recruit them. For now, we’ll find out what we can about this dragonfriend man. We’ll find him and end him. The dragonbonded make good assassins, but lousy envoys.”

Hmmm. That’s good to know. “Yes, my liege.”

<<<>>>

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174 - “The Dragonbonded” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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A distant scream slashed the dark and echoed through the passages.

From a small lamp, suspended below the ceiling by a bronze chain, shone three oculi. A polished silver hood built above them into the lamp reflected the light down onto Tonklyn's study table, covered in books and scrolls. The light also shone on a soft, high-backed chair sitting in front of the table, but it was turned slightly, as if Tonklyn had pushed it aside while standing.  A large, thickly woven rug with ornate designs covered the stone floor, surrounding a large and shining metal dish in the center of the room. Three large stones sat in the dish, glowing with warmth.

Shrieks of terror and pain sounded again, louder this time.

Across the rug, opposite the table, stood a large bed. Thick velvet drapes hung from the bedposts, surrounding Tonklyn in dark warmth and isolation.

A deep rumbling roar shook its way down into the chamber. It blended with the harsh piercing shrill of more screams.

What is going on up there? Tonklyn raised up, kicked against the tangle of his blankets and his night robe, and parted his curtains. The wails shivered down his nerves like the grinding of a millstone. He stepped to the table and picked up his staff, lighting the oculus on the end.

As he left his room, the air in the passage quickly became cold, and continued to get colder as he got farther from the glowing stones in the bin. The stone floor chilled his feet and he shivered. The few feet of the hallway beyond the illumination of his oculus were cloaked in shadow.

Another roar cut through the cold, and Tonklyn stopped, surprised. It was getting louder, as were the screams that followed. Those died off and bounced down the reverberant stone stairs. Those screams are human voices. What is he doing? 

Tonklyn rushed up the stairs, turned the corner, and froze.

Kirraxal stood in the dim light of the main chamber chandeliers, near the table with the large scroll. The scaly skin on his neck shimmered as it reflected what little light was shining down. Three legs bore his weight and his fourth arm was extended. In his hand, he held someone up. Tonklyn could see that the figure wore the armor and tunic of their new royal guard. The dragon’s eyes stared intently at the man, and his hand shook slightly, as if he were squeezing the soldier in a crushing grasp. The soldier’s arms and legs flopped from side to side, limp and dripping blood.

Tonklyn stood in shock, unable to move. Kirraxal was focused on the body and paid no attention to the sudden shift in the shadows as Tonklyn had entered the room.

Finally, with a growl, Kirraxal loosened his grip, and the crumbled form of the man tumbled from his bloody hands to the floor with a slap. Tonklyn saw two other bodies lying there, equally distorted into inhuman postures. Tonklyn slowly stepped forward into the chamber. He squinted from the brightness of the light of his staff. It cast erie shadows against the walls.

Kirraxal turned to look at Tonklyn, then back at the three bodies lying on the floor before him. As Tonklyn came closer, he noticed that much of the blood on the floor was a dark purple, not just the normal red of the humans. What happened? Did they attack him? He quickly looked up and saw the thick purple liquid dripping from Kirraxal’s fingers and claws.

“You’re hurt!” Tonklyn called out. “Did they think they could attack you? Are there more?”

The dragon muttered. “They did not attack.”

Tonklyn stood back and raised his gaze high up toward the dragon’s face. “Then why were they killed?”

“They are not dead.”

“What?”

Kirraxal dropped his hand to the floor and looked back to the three bodies. “Not completely.”

The purple blood that stained the stones was evaporating into a dark haze that spread over the floor and the bodies. That smoke stirred and shifted, like a sleeping man moving his leg underneath a blanket. Their arms and legs swept under the layer of mist, making an unearthly and haunting scraping on the stone.

Tonklyn watched in morbid fascination. “This is the from the scroll. You’re doing the death ritual you wanted me to translate!”

Without speaking, or looking away, the dragon nodded.

He didn't wait for me to translate it all. He's figured it out on his own. Tonklyn's mind and heart raced.

An elbow flipped above the smoke for a moment, then it lifted up a shoulder. Another body moaned and rolled onto its side and began to rise. It’s broken and twisted torso made crackling sounds as the muscles reknit and the bones slipped back into place. A second man stood up, but fell back to one knee.

Tonklyn's eyes widened, and he turned away, but he couldn’t help but look back at the misshapen bodies. Their skin, once made a bit rough only by short dark hairs or an occasional scar, bunched and twisted until it became a dark scaly leather. Gradually, they stood straight, without stumbling or becoming imbalanced. They looked up to Kirraxal with emotionless worship, like statues of soldiers awaiting orders.

Tonklyn stepped back, his breathing shallow.

Kirraxal spoke first. “They are the dragonbonded. They carry my blood and will serve me with a single-minded loyalty, obeying my every command. They will stop at nothing, fear nothing, and never hesitate. They will fulfill my wishes,” The dragon leered with emphasis at Tonklyn, and then looked back at the soldiers, “without question.”

Okay. Tonklyn took a deeper breath, holding it in. I get the point. I will have to be very careful.

Kirraxal looked at the gash in his palm. It had mostly stopped bleeding. He spun his body around and stepped back to his gigantic bed. His steps were marked by the scraping of his claws on the stone and the splashing of blood. He curled himself onto his mattress and brought his tail around to his chest. “Tomorrow, you will have other servants clean my chambers. Then, they can see what my dark will is capable of.

I see.

"After that, I will give these three their tasks. One will go to find the white dagger and bring it to me. Another will go to find the lineage of this Heathrax that you're warning me about.”

Tonklyn continued backing away, toward the passage back to his own chamber. “And the third?”

“The third will remain,” the dragon huffed, glancing at Tonklyn before laying down his head, “as my guard.”

"Yes, your Majesty"

<<<>>>

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173 - “Planning in the Shadows” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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Tonklyn cut off another thin sliver of the medium rare venison steak on the plate before him. He held it up and examined it in the room’s oculus light. It was perfectly browned and seared, delicately seasoned and drizzled with an tangy berry sauce. He tasted it and savored the richness. Maybe you don’t have to be the King to live like one...

The last few weeks had brought significant changes, since the treasure horde had been found. It had been initially difficult to convince Kirraxal to begin using the gold to strengthen his reign. The dragon had wanted to keep it all close. He began to see, however, the comforts and influence that money can bring. Being the descendant of a demigod and the focus of religious devotion is a wonderful thing, but it only gets you so far. Eventually, some people will have to be paid. 

He took another bite and sighed. ...Like a chef! And servants.

He sat in his chambers, at a table surrounded by books and scrolls. One, most prominently placed where he could see it as he dined, was a very large book, with pages almost as large as a man lying and spreading his arms and legs wide. This one had been found among the gold and relics in the horde. Its pages were of thick heavy fabric and were filled with large glyphs of dragonscript. It was clearly not intended for the use of humans.

On top of one if its open pages lay one of the books that Tonklyn had brought back from the cathedral’s catacombs. This one was also large, at least for a human, but still much smaller than the dragonkind tome. It contained much of the lore and history that the humans had gathered on the dragons, and was helping him to translate and understand the other writings in the horde’s collection.

Kirraxal had demanded that Tonklyn read the great tomes of dragon history to him, but it had been slow, as Tonklyn struggled with the interpretations. As a result, there were still many gaps in the timelines. They were gradually getting through the reigns of the original Dragon Kings. Tonklyn, particularly, wanted to know what it was that caused their eventual decline. How was it that the humans were able to overcome them after so many years of domination?

Kirraxal also learned as they read, grasping the meanings of some of the glyphs quickly. He didn’t, however, have much patience for reading.

A distant bell chime rang, loud and deep. It rang again. Nor, it seems, does he have patience for much else, either.

Tonklyn dropped the fork and stood. He closed and hefted the smaller human-made tome and shifted it into position under his arm. He carefully adjusted his robes, strode into the hallway, and continued up the stairs. As he walked, the bell tolled a third time.

“Yes, yes, I hear it! I’m on my way!” he muttered. Creator’s mercy!

He came to the top of the stairs, rounded a corner, and stepped into Kirraxal’s great chamber. He immediately bowed to his knee, as was his new protocol. “Your Majesty.” Two servants in drab brown robes on either side of the entrance bowed as well, first to Tonklyn, then more deeply to Kirraxal.

The dragon was lying on his bed, with his head snaked upward and his hind legs and tail curled around. The bed was a massive and deep mattress of ornate quiltworks on a stone dais, whose edges were now gilt with polished gold and silver. Ornate chandeliers of oculus stones hung above and would be easily able to light the room like a high noon sun, but Kirraxal always kept them glowing dimly. A large wooden table had been set next to him and an immense scroll was partly unrolled across it.

Has he been reading? This is different.

Kirraxal snorted and harsh smoke wafted across the table. “Have you found anything, or are you just hiding and eating down there?”

“Even your majesty requires sustenance.” I really don’t like talking like this.

“Yes, well, you humans seem to think that getting bigger means a bigger prize.”

Tonklyn breathed deep and steeled himself for a moment, convincing himself to not respond. “I have found some references to this Giatrace Dragonfriend, as you requested. I believe that this is his elvish name. There are a few mentions in human lore, from the time of elder DragonKings, to someone named Heathrax. I gather that at the time, there were some of the dragons that disapproved of the rule of the King, calling him oppressive and a tyrant. They advocated a more... shall we say, interactive rule with the subjects of Wynne. This Heathrax could have been one of the humans they interacted with.”

“Mmm,” The dragon turned his head to look at Tonklyn. “If his descendants still live, they could make it difficult to rouse any dragons remaining in the mountains. We will need those dragons as vassals to overtake the high elves in Emberfire.”

“Your Majesty is beginning to think more strategically, I see.”

“And you are continuing to speak disrespectfully, I see,” Kirraxal snarled. “I still don’t like the waiting. It makes me tense. But, yes, I am seeing some sense in it.”

“Once we find them, many will fly with you with promises of fiefdoms and power. I think that in the spring, things will move much more swiftly. The Khelnar that have infested the forest of Umbramire will be rousing again, and we will be able to manipulate them to harass the wood elves. The dissent and confusion that we are brewing up in Twynne Rivers will also be ripe. Yes. After the winter, it will be the time to strike.”

"Very well. We will be prepared." Kirraxal rolled fully onto his belly and raised his chest quarters. He turned his focus back to his scroll. "Come over here. Can you interpret any of these glyphs?"

Tonklyn hurried over and looked. He had to step up onto the bed dais to see the unrolled sheet and its markings. Some looked familiar, but they seemed to be written with a unique hand. The letters were less rounded and more... harsh. "This one is for 'human', but it's not shaped quite like most other writings. It's also right next to these glyphs meaning 'dragon'. This one has elements of other glyphs. Part reminds me of 'life', or 'blood' or maybe both. This part around it is a distortion of 'death'."

"Very good. I am correct, then. I am flying on the right wing."

Oh! By The Creator! Tonklyn’s eyes grew wide and he hissed in a sharp breath. Or The Destroyer, more likely! Tonklyn's voice became hushed. "This is shadow magic, isn't it? This is deep, deep shadow magic. This is playing with the dead."

"The ancient Kings were wise, weren't they, human?" The dragon spoke with a hint of malice, "I will learn their secrets."

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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172 - “Talking in the Shadows” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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Kirraxal lifted his head, snaking it from side to side, shifting his gaze back and forth. An unearthly hiss rose from deep in his throat. It came out of his mouth as an sulfuric smoke that traced his movements.

He closed his eyes and sat on his back legs and massive tail. A mist of darkness coalesced around him from the shadows in the corners of the dimly lit chamber. It swirled around his chest and undulating neck.

“Stand with me!” he growled.

Tonklyn jolted with surprise. What? He wants me involved in the shadow contact? He immediately stepped from the table where he had been standing and moved to Kirraxal’s side. Tonklyn’s plump frame was covered by an ornate and newly crafted robe. It was long and black, trimmed in gold edging and a red sash and belt. He adjusted the passed shoulders, pleased with the design. He considered it to be suitably elegant for the Chancellor to the Dragon King.

The darkness swelled up around them and he suddenly felt weightless. He knew that he wasn’t physically moving- that his body actually remained in the mountain palace hold. With a rush, he felt his consciousness flash through the night, leaping from shadow to shadow. In a moment, it flew across the landscape, through the forest, and into the city that he knew was Twynne Rivers. The shadows carried them to the civil palace in the center of the city, where all of the King’s ministers and Councilmembers lived and worked. Tonklyn knew this place well. Here's been there many times as a page for the Royal Library.

He felt slightly dizzy and even a bit nauseous. Frankly, he didn’t like it much when Kirraxal contacted him through the shadows, and now he liked being projected this way even less.

As the room opened up in his awareness, he saw an ornately decorated smoking chamber. Fine wood tables and richly padded chairs were carefully placed around the perimeter of the room. Elaborately hung chandeliers with bright oculi illuminated the room from above.

In the center of the room, Tonklyn saw three men scramble up from their chairs. They hurried to get to their knees before the swirling dark and misted image that they were seeing took shape.

In spite of the uneasiness he felt having his mind stretched and flung far across the kingdom, Tonklyn admitted a certain satisfaction to see them kneel before him. Well, kneeling before Kirraxal, really, but standing there beside the Dragon King did carry quite a weight of importance.

Tonklyn recognized one of the men. It was the elf named Illitharin, who had helped plan and execute the attack on the cathedral and the other two chapels. The others were humans that he'd not met. One of them, however, wore livery that Tonklyn immediately recognized as a minister of the Kings High Council. Though he didn’t recognize the man, he wore silver and gold braids across his shoulders in a pattern that denoted high rank within the council chambers. The other was also human, and wore a simple traveling tunic and leggings with sturdy boots. He definitely looked to have just come in from the road. All three of them bowed low.

The dragon broke the haunting silence. “Hopefully, you will have brought me news of progress.” He spoke in a grave and menacing voice.

The first man responded, “Your majesty.” Tonklyn noted the deference given to Kirraxal now that he wore the crown. No longer was he simply “the master” or “my liege”. “I hope you will be pleased with our efforts here in the capital. With two of the major factions essentially removed from before the king, his High Council is now imbalanced and uncertain. Others factions are attempting to assert their dominance. In the chaos, our own ranks are growing with disciples.”

He continued with an added layer of religious humility, “As your high priest here in the city, I have been able to induct many new acolytes to our order. Many are users of the powers of shadow, and of striking force, and we are beginning to move across the city to take advantage of the instability.”

He looked at the more roughly-clothed man, who spoke next. “Some of the more devout recruits will be coming with me to Portstown to strengthen our presence there.”

“Very well. You will carry on. My Chancellor will continue to coordinate with you.”

Illitharin spoke up. “I have a message for His Excellency, the Chancellor, if I may.”

His Excellency? His Excellency the Chancellor. I like the sound of that!

Kirraxal snorted. “Be brief. It is not easy to maintain this connection.”

“The daughter of the Guildmaster has returned to Twynne Rivers. You and I spoke of her soon after the attack. We've found that she and her companions were instrumental in bringing down the slaver chapter in Westwood Manor in the western Umbrawood forest, and fought in the cathedral raid as well. You had asked me to follow through on any information regarding them.”

Tonklyn nodded. “Go on.”

“Well, we have someone in pursuit. One of her companions has said she wishes to join us. They were seen leaving through the northern gate of the wall. If they’re leaving, they might be going north.”

Tonklyn mused, “If so, we might have some followers of our chapter in Emberfire City go to meet them and welcome them.”

The minister looked surprised. “We have a presence among the High Elves? Why was I not informed?”

“There is much you don’t know!” Kirraxal growled with menace. The minister quickly bowed again.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty!” he said, with immediate fear, then, after hesitating, added, “May I speak?”

“If what you have to say is actually useful, yes.”

“If it please Your Majesty, I believe it will be. Are there not legends of clutches of dragons living to the north in the harsh peaks of the Emberfire Mountains? There is a more ancient, much forgotten tradition among the old wizards and scholars of the High Elves of a hero, one called Giatrace Dragonfriend. Perhaps those of our order could be tasked to find the heirs or descendents of this Dragonfriend. They could be crucial to your goal of uniting the dragonkind under your rule.”

Tonklyn scowled and turned in shadow to nod at Kirraxal.

“Yes, this has some interest. Maybe it will be useful.” The mists began to swirl again, and with a deep lurch in his belly, Tonklyn found himself standing back in Kirraxal’s chamber. He reached out with his hands to regain his balance.

Kirraxal gave a snarly growl. “Why didn’t you have this useful information?”

Tonklyn frowned. He didn’t like being upstaged. Was that a snarl or a laugh? Neither would be a good thing, and Tonklyn couldn’t tell. "I must do more research."

"Yes. You must." The dragon hissed.

<<<>>>

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164 - “Knowledge is Power” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

The rush of cold air blew on Tonklyn's face as he hurried through the corridor. That, and the large book he carried in his arms, made it hard for him to move quickly, in spite of his excitement.

He had rushed from his own pleasantly warmed chamber, up several flights of dark stairs, to the grand and spacious room where Kirraxal always rested. It was sparsely decorated with only a few tapestries and tables, and a padded pillow bed in the shape of a gigantic circle in the middle. It held the impression of where the dragon slept, with his head, body, and tail curled around. The air was always cold because of the altitude, and also the wide and open corridor leading to the landing terrace outside. Kirraxal liked it cold.

Not finding the dragon on the bed, Tonklyn had run through the great hallway. It was night, so he had struggled to see the opening. The autumn winds blowing across the mountains and across the terrace made a chilling draft. That had made the passage a bit easier to find.

He burst out onto the terrace, gasping for air, and fell to his knees.

"Master!" He choked out with broken breaths, "I have something to show you!"

The dragon turned his head and looked to Tonklyn with a scowl. He had been looking out across the expanse of lands before the mountains, taking in the night air. He huffed and blew acrid smoke across the terrace, which wafted past Tonklyn. “What? Is it good?”

“Oh, yes!” Tonklyn insisted, “I think you’ll find this discovery very interesting, if I’m right.”

“And if you’re wrong?” The dragon was skeptical. “You’ve been digging through those books ever since you returned from Twynne Rivers. What is it you’re searching for? I’m getting impatient.”

“We’ll need to be in your chamber for this.” Tonklyn started to walk back into the corridor.

Kirraxal followed and complained, “If, as you say, the city is in chaos, why are we still here? Why should I not play a move, kill the king, and assert my rule? I don’t like the delay.”

“The city is confused, it’s true. The church is weak; the guild is disbanded. But the king, himself, still rules strong, and his defenses are even more focused now. To attack now would be certain defeat.”

“You think I can’t kill a single human king?”

“Easily. But you’d have to wade through armies of defenses first.” Tonklyn stepped into the main chamber and walked to a table. With a heft, he set down the book and flipped it open to the page he’d been marking with his finger. “The time is not yet right.” Tonklyn walked over to a spot on the wall that circled around the dragon’s lair. He moved one of the tapestries aside and began to inspect the wall behind it.

“What are you looking for?”

“Do you remember when you first met me? When I first became your Chancellor?”
Kirraxal harrumphed again.

“As you tried to roast me alive, you burned out much of the furnishings and accessories in the room. For a long time, the chamber was quite bare. We had to spend a lot of time cleaning it up and remaking it with new things.”

“And?”

“AH!” Tonklyn came out from behind the tapestry, gripped its lower edge, and with a heave, tore it down.

“So, now you wish to redecorate? Is this what my kingdom comes to?”

“Right here! Do you see these glyphs? They’re carved into the wall.”

Kirraxal stepped up and looked. He could see the indentations, but he looked at Tonklyn, confused.

“I first saw these when we were rebuilding the room. I didn’t understand what they were then. Can you read them?”

Kirraxal narrowed his eyes, then slowly shook his head.

“Well, I think I can, now. These glyphs are in the dragonkin script!” Tonklyn stepped back to the table, and pushed it toward the wall. “The book I fetched from the cathedral explains some of them. If I’m right, this will be very exciting!” He began turning pages, looking back and forth from the glyphs on the wall and the book.

He walked back to the wall and pointed at the markings one at a time. “Dreln, aath, jex, heth, klard. Do you see?”

The dragon raised his head indignantly.

Tonkly mused, “Hmmm... Interesting. That means a human can read dragonkin, and a dragon can’t.” He was not even trying to hide his smirk.

“Tread lightly, human. Tell me what it means.”

“These tell us that there is a possibly a room behind this wall. Even better, I’ll show you.” Tonklyn turned the book toward Kirraxal. “With a claw of your left hand, draw these three key glyphs onto the wall next to those carved in.”

The dragon hesitated, and Tonklyn pointed at the book. “These ones, right here. You have to do it to trigger their power. I'm not a dragon.”

Kirraxal studied them with intensity, then shifted and raised his hand. He pointed a claw and began scratching the first glyph.

"Aath," Tonklyn named them as Kirraxal wrote, "jex, shon."

As soon as the last glyph was done, the wall began to glow, then to dissolve. Kirraxal reared back in surprise and snaked his neck forward to look more closely. Tonklyn grabbed his staff and lit up the oculus with a bright light.

The wall vanished completely and the sparkling color of gold reflected back out of the space it revealed. Coins, vases, chalices, and statues were heaped in an immense golden pile on the floor. Tables and chests around the perimeter displayed jewelry, swords, shields, and gems.

It was true! This is what I was searching for so long ago! No one believed me! With a hushed gasp, Tonklyn stepped forward. Kirraxal dropped his foot hard on the stone before him, blocking his path. The dragon scowled, then moved in to inspect the hoard.

Tonklyn took a breath and followed him. He ran his hands under the coins and raised them up, letting the gold pieces drain from his open palms as if they were water. "Never in my life have I seen this much wealth! I was right! I knew it hadn't all been plundered!" He tossed the last of the coins back on the stack and picked up an ornate and delicate chain. "Just think what we could do with resources like this!"

Kirraxal hissed, "We? This gold is mine!"

"Of course, my liege!" Tonklyn bowed quickly and humbly, "but just think of how this could be used to further your cause! Towers, armies, agents, siege engines... Wealth buys power! All would bow-" He paused and caught his breath. By the Creator’s Light, I don’t believe it! There it is!

“What do you see?” Kirraxal stepped up behind him and looked over his head. On a table covered in fine black velvet rested a large half-circle of gilt metal, several feet across, set with hundreds of glistening gems in rising points.

Tonklyn whispered, "The Crown of the Dragon Kings!"

Kirraxal reached forward and lifted it. Tonklyn would have never been able to, but it was easy for the dragon. He snaked his head down, set it in place above his eyes, and raised up in the chamber. He roared and the sound shook the walls.

Tonklyn dropped immediately to his knees. "Your Majesty!" he shouted, "In this, the moment of your coronation, I am always your servant!"

Well, always for now, anyway.

<<<>>>

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163 - “The Rooster That Wins” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

The cold air of the higher altitude swept around the drakemaster and cut through the gaps in Tonklyn’s cloak. His nose and cheeks felt frozen. I should have worn the scarf they offered me. Instead, he kept his face lowered to hide behind the master’s back. He pulled his hood down further.

The drake circled twice in the shadow of the mountainside before Tonklyn had the rider ease on the reigns and signal the beast to descend. This drake was of a larger variety, almost as big as a young dragon. It was a dark green. In other circumstances, Tonklyn would have admired the creature, especially in flight. But now, his legs, after being strapped into a kneeling position on the saddle behind the drakemaster for so long, were cramping, and his hands were also going numb from the cold. That the sun had dropped below the mountaintops a few minutes before was making it even worse and the constant up and down undulation of the wing flaps was none to pleasant, either.

“Is that it down there?” The drakemaster shouted over his shoulder. He pointed to a spot on the darkening mountainside. Tonklyn squinted in the wind, and then called out a confirmation.

Tonklyn’s guts suddenly swelled up into his throat as the drake began its harsh descent. How can this guy stand it? These drake trainers must be pretty hardy men. He admitted to himself that he had been impressed with the way they had captured and wrangled the various drakes, preparing them for the attacks. The mages had helped, but it had still been difficult to keep the beasts controlled until it was the proper moment to unleash them on the churches. They showed that the cult of The Dragon’s Flame had been growing, especially in the right realms, and it would soon be time to grow even more.

After a few unnerving turns in the air, Tonklyn could more clearly see the familiar landing built out of the side of the mountain. Sitting on it was the imposing figure of Kirraxal, the dragon. Kirraxal was easily twice the size of the drake they flew, and he was sitting comfortably in a regal posture waiting for them to land. His head followed their approach. Tonklyn’s heart raced. He always got tense when he saw his liege lord. His mind raced through a review of all he had done in the last months. Had he forgotten anything? No, I’m good. I think I’ve already reported it all. Still, his confidence was always a bit shaken by the presence of the dragon.

With a flurry of wings and a lot of jostling, the drake landed as far away from Kirraxal as it possibly could. As soon as it folded its wings, it crawled even farther toward the edge of the balcony. It held its head low and focused on the greater dragon. It hissed softly, with fear.

Tonklyn and the drakemaster immediately began unstrapping themselves. They clambered across their saddles and the neck of the drake to jump down onto the stone floor. They knelt and bowed. Kirraxal huffed an acceptance of their humility and a draft of hot sulfuric breath wafted over them. Tonklyn stood as the drakemaster tended to his beast and began unloading Tonklyn’s supplies.

“The attack was successful," Kirraxal said. It wasn’t so much of a question, or a request for an update, but more like a statement. It might have carried a bit of a congratulatory flavor, but Tonklyn knew better. Kirraxal’s voice was deep, with an edge of a hiss still lingering in his draconic accent.

“More so than I had even imagined!” Tonklyn said. He walked over to the growing pile of bags and trunks. He picked up his staff, lit the oculus dangling from the end with a wave of his hand, and looked over his items. “The Church was caught completely by surprise and their councils are now in total chaos. Whatever influence they had with the King is shattered. The Wizard’s Guild is dissolved, and its members are in prison or in hiding. Other factions in the realm are clamoring over each other to fill the void.”

The dragon nodded and turned toward the cavernous entrance passageway built into the side of the mountain. Tonklyn grabbed a large bound sack and told the drakemaster, “That will be all. I will take care of these things later. Return to the lower reaches.”

“But sir...”

“Go. Now.”

The man frowned, nodded, then addressed his mount and climbed back up in the saddle. He saluted and lifted the drake into the air. Tonklyn hefted the sack and hurried after Kirraxal.

“It was really amazing to watch,” he said, catching up to the dragon. “It was very much like a rooster fight.”

The dragon's eyes glanced sideways at him, curious. It was an odd expression for a dragon's face. Tonklyn explained, “when men make two roosters fight, there are no real victors. One bird ends the battle bruised and bleeding, hardly standing. The other one lies dead on the sand. It becomes dinner. The real winner is the one who’s watching, the one who staged the fight in the first place!”

Kirraxal laughed with a deep rumble. “You humans have peculiar ways. I’m always amazed at what you will do to each other.” He continued toward his chambers. “That’s why you will always be easy to rule.”

<<<>>>

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122 - “Another Part of the Plan” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

The inn was one of the finest in the CenterTowne quarter of Twynne Rivers. It had cost Tonklyn a couple of gold pieces to the house master just to be considered for a room. But this was no Outer Wall corner pub, either. This was a tall stone structure with fine rugs on the floors and delicate sheets on the thick, padded mattresses. Heavy velvet curtains hung from the posts of the bed. An ornate table with a set of fine porcelain basin, pitcher, and cups, as well as thick, soft washcloths. All sat at the ready, waiting for him to wash before sleeping.

He wore a loose, light night robe that flowed as he stepped across the room. He picked up a wine  glass that he had poured a few minutes ago and walked through a doorway to the left of the table. He stepped out onto a narrow stone balcony overlooking the city.

A chilling breeze blew past him, rustling his night robe and his hair. There air was cooler than it had been, and carried a hint of dampness. That will bring clouds, and maybe rain tomorrow. I hope it lingers.

He had spent a lot of his time on this journey remembering his recent changes of fortune, going from simple scholar boy to the Chancellor of the future Dragon King. His time with his new master had been both exciting and terrifying. If the old scholars and high priests that he had slaved for only knew what was to hit them... In only a few days. Then, soon enough, this entire kingdom will shake to its knees. 

The shadows on the balcony behind him hissed and billowed, sending an unnatural chill past him. He had known his master would contact him. That's the only reason why he wasn't already in bed and asleep. It had been a long day.

“Tell me,” the dragon's voice whispered through the shadows, “of the meeting. Is the attack in place? Is everyone ready?”

 Tonklyn's lips turned a bit in a subtle smile. He's like a child hoping that acrobats will come to the festival. 

“Yes. All is ready. Drakes and mages are gathering as we speak. Though our brothers in the Church are not so confident.” He didn't even try to hide his sarcastic disdain.

“They can't back out!” The shadows rippled with anger.

“Clearly not. At this point, events will proceed, regardless.” Tonklyn hoped that would stay off his master’s wrath, but it only seemed to anger him more.

“The Bishops might betray us. We must strike swiftly!” Rage was building in the dragon's voice. Tonklyn tensed.

Find your calm. Breathe deep. Ease your fear. He thought of his reminiscing through the past few days and focused on Kirraxal's voice. The dragon had learned to speak common much more clearly than he had when they first met. Thinking about this detail allowed him to keep his own emotions in check.

“They won't betray us, I think. That would reveal their own involvement.” He took a deep calming breath. “Truly, I feel confident that all will go well.” After a moment, Tonklyn continued, “Although I agree that it's a good idea to quicken the attack by a day. That opportunity will catch the Church by surprise and allow us to sow more chaos.”

Kirraxal didn't respond immediately and Tonklyn sensed a calming coming through the darkness. “That will serve me well,” the shadows finally said, then added, “did you discover the cathedral archives?”

Tonklyn’s shoulders tensed again and he took in a sharp breath. He felt that same wave of fear every time he had to tell his master anything bad. It wasn’t easy, but he had learned to walk the delicate balance between frankness and equivocation. This time, he chose the former. “No, sire, not yet. They have an extensive library near the main hall, but--”

“Let that be your primary task then! There is a good chance that the dagger and the scrolls we seek will be found there. If you can find it, the chaos of the attack will give you an excellent opportunity to plunder it.”

Tonklyn exhaled. “Yes, sire. It will be done!” He hoped that his voice sounded convincing. Or do I need to convince myself?

The shadows warped and twisted one last time, and the voice hissed out, “Good. Do not fail me, human.”

“No, sire. I will not!” Tonklyn said as the normal darkness of the night returned. “I will not,” he repeated, alone once again.

<<<>>>

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114 - “Dragon’s Servant” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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“Stuupid Humaan!” the dragon shouted with a deep and growling voice. It shook the chamber and cut in Tonklyn’s ears. He rolled away and scrambled across the floor, frantically looking for any cover he could find. He heard a deep growl and a rasping and retching sound come from behind him then a maelstrom of heat swept him over onto his side. His wide eyes looked at the space where he had just been and saw it engulfed in writhing flames. They spread out from the dragon’s mouth and rushed over the floor in an ever-widening circle of destruction.

Tonklyn struggled to his feet and ran. The light of the inferno illuminated the vast room, and he saw some barely discernible objects against a far wall. They might hide him. He ran toward them, his heartbeats pounding with his footsteps. The dragon behind him roared in rage.

As Tonklyn ran, he glanced back.  The dragon’s head swept across the room, looking for him. One of objects Tonklyn was approaching was a large, low table. He threw himself to the ground in front of it, sliding underneath. Quickly he shuffled his body to be fully under its cover. Only then did he dare to look.

The dragon was snorting and sniffing through the flames still burning on the floor and rugs where he had been. Can’t he see me? Didn’t he see me run? Tonklyn scooted himself further under the table, but not so far that he couldn’t see the beast.

The dragon swung his head back and forth across the floor, ignoring the fire, and sniffing as he went. “Whhere did youu go?” it rumbled. Finally it raised its head and roared in a fury, “I WILLL killl you!”  It reared back on its back legs and flexed its wings, while snaking its neck high into the upper reaches of the chamber. The motion of its wings fanned the flames below. Tonklyn felt a hot wave of pure terror rush over him. It tensed his back and shook his legs. He clenched his teeth to force himself not to release the scream he felt deep in his gut. He lay flat and hid himself in his arms, trying to become as small as possible in the dark under the table.

So this is how I die. 

He looked again, and dragon fell to his forelegs, smacking the ground with a shaking impact. It stretched its neck forward and Tonklyn saw its chest and belly shake, as if it was churning up something noxious deep inside. It closed its eyes, then retched and hacked more flames from its maw, sweeping back and forth across the room. Cushions, rugs, and tapestries in the room became covered in fiery spit. Smothering, painful heat washed over Tonklyn, making it difficult to see or breathe. The dragon raised its head, hot flaming drool running down its lower jaw and dripping onto the already burning floor.

“WHERRE ARE YOUU?”

Tonklyn didn’t dare move, and tried not to breathe. Was all that sweat from fear or the heat?

“I willl smmell you sooon ennough, and thenn I will find youu.”

Tonklyn found himself strangely fascinated by the dragon’s speech. He wondered how the humongous monster had learned common tongue. His heart was still pounding, but his mind was clearing. It shapes the words strangely. It must have learned it by study, not by interaction with humans.

Tonklyn crept forward a few inches. The fires still burned, but not as fiercely. The glow from the floor and walls lit the dragon from below and behind, giving him an awesome and even regal look. Tonklyn found himself transfixed. After all the years of reading about them, I finally actually get to see one! He studied the lines and shapes of its neck, wings, back and legs, vowing to sketch it accurately for the record. If I live, that is.

Well, if it can talk, then I can negotiate with it. He thought back on all of those years he had spent stroking the inflated egos of the sages in the library. That should help for something, shouldn’t it? 

But it’s right when it says it will find me eventually, anyway. It’s going to kill me. It will eat me alive. My wits are my only hope.

Tonklyn took a deep breath, for courage, then coughed out the smoky air. He slowly crept out from under the table and stood up. The heat from the fires all around him was painful, almost unbearable. Sweat ran down his neck in streams. Hands at his side, unthreatening, he raised his head to look at the gigantic dragon’s face. It drew back slightly, narrowing its eyes. If it could have shown a smirk of surprise, that would have been it.

Tonklyn took another breath. “Lies.”

“Whatt?” the dragon hissed.

“Everything I’ve read are lies. Or frail imaginings.” Tonklyn’s awestruck countenance was only partly forced. He tried to shape his voice into a breathy tone of wonder, while trying to control the shaky fear he still had knotted deep in his gut. He continued, himself surprised that the dragon hadn’t swept him dead already. “Dragons are clearly far more magnificent here, face to face, than the tomes of history had led me to believe.”

The dragon lowered his head and neck to within a few scant feet of Tonklyns chest, where his heart was palpitating with terror. The head was easily big enough bite him in half and swallow each part whole. Its breath intensified the heat around him. Tonklyn fought the instinct to break, to step back, or even to run, screaming, into the dark. Instead, he bowed his head, briefly, put on his most diplomatic face, then looked the dragon steadily and directly in the eyes.

“Whoo arre youu?” the dragon finally said.

“I am Tonklyn. A scholar. An apprentice to the sages of the great library of King Twynnham of Twynne Rivers.” That much is true, anyway. 

The dragon looked him over from several angles, sniffing and shifting. “And whhy havve youu come heere? Sspeak truuth or you diee wherre you staand.”

Now he’s intrigued. I’m on my way in. “I have been studying the reign and fall of the Great Dragon Kings, particularly Maxinn III. I found the records of this place, his palace, and I resolved to seek it out. What better way to learn of the King, than in the palace itself?” Still, all true. Mostly.  He tried to hide his nerves by walking back and hiking himself up to sit on the table, his legs casually crossed before him.

Tonklyn continued, “I had not expected to meet the new King. We had assumed the palace to be abandoned.” He bowed again. “It is indeed an honor. Am I fortunate to address Maxinn the IV?”

The dragon squinted at him, uncertain. He huffed out a puff of sulferous smoke, shifted his gaze again, then said, “I amm Kirraxal. The First.”

Tonklyn had smiled, then had jumped to his feet on the floor. “Then let me be the first,” he had said, sweeping to one knee, “to bow before the King.”

Tonklyn breathed in, coming out of his memories. He rested his head on the pillow of the bed in the Inn. After they had arrived at Twynne Rivers, they had easily found fine accommodations. With enough gold, things happen quickly. The room was warm and dark, the bed was soft, and the sheets were smooth.

Twynne Rivers may look like nothing here has changed, but everything has changed for me.

<<<>>>

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113 - “Dragon Memories” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

As afternoon became twilight, the meadow trail that Tonklyn and his men had been following had merged onto the main road leading eastward into Twynne Rivers. Soon after, they rode by the shanties and shacks of the OuterWall quarter of the city. There were lantern lights shining out of windows onto the streets, but nothing outside to brighten the road itself, like the oculus lamps on the finer, cleaner streets of CenterTowne.

Tonklyn disliked that someone had to drive through these filthy and dangerous neighborhoods to get into the city proper. While it was true that there were City Guardsmen stationed at various points along the main road, trying to protect caravans going in and out, they didn’t pay much attention to smaller groups like his. And, though he had taken care to not dress in finery or his ministerial robes, they certainly didn’t look poor. At least his supports were well armed, and well trained.

What do I have to be afraid of, here? He laughed inside as they passed a few men standing outside of a small pub. I sleep near a dragon! One that frequently reminds me that he prefers the taste of human over cattle. Still, his eyes followed the men with caution as their horses clip-clopped down the dusty roadway.

So much had changed for him in those two years since he’d last been in the city. When he’d left, he had been a lowly apprentice to the sages, given his first journeyman’s task. Honestly, they had initially laughed at his request. Find the fabled Dragon Palace? Where? And what for? In the end, they had acquiesced.

But I knew what I was looking for. I had seen the histories. I had seen what everyone else had ignored. 

In the human histories, there was little mention of the plunder of the palace. Not much was found there after the fall of the Dragon King. Tonklyn had known there had to be more there. The Dragon King’s gold had been legendary. If it had been found, the histories would have mentioned it. It would have changed the course of the nations that followed. He had known that it had to be there, still, waiting for someone to find it.

Getting to the mountains had been hard enough. Then, he had hired a dwarven guide to take him to the palace. It had taken most of his remaining grant money, because no-one had been willing to go there. Even the one he’d hired would only take him half-way up the mountainside. The last miles had been rocky and treacherous. Sometimes hiking the slope, sometimes climbing over slippery rock, cold autumn winds in the higher altitude had made it even more bitter. But he  had finally climbed out onto the ledge that he had seen from so far below.

He rested a while in the mid-day sun, leaning against the rock wall at the back of the ledge, regaining his strength after scaling so far. Next to him was a large opening. It was not natural, like a cave, but carved like a huge doorway. The stones around the opening had been carefully shaped and placed, arched to support the upper reaches. They were chipped and weathered, then, and they had been intricate and beautiful hundreds of years ago.

Tonklyn lit a torch from his pouch and began exploring. The interior was vast and expansive, carved into the mountain with high ceilings and intricate archways. At times, his torchlight wouldn’t even reach the heights. Time and the weather hadn’t ruined things as much inside. It was dusty, and empty, but he could see its past splendor.

He remembered entering a large central chamber, deep in the mountain. His dim torch lit only a few feet into the interior. As he stepped in, he saw some glimmers of reflected light, and a large black mass of boulders. He wondered if the ceiling might have partially collapsed in the room.

Could the glimmer be the the treasure? His heart skipped at the thought. As he stepped forward, he heard a loud sniff, then a deeper snort. The blackened boulders shifted and rolled, scraping loudly across the stone floor. Tonklyn thought to run, but his feet were frozen in fear.

He could see the stones shifting, and saw that they weren’t stone, but muscles, covered in black, scaly skin. Legs stretched out, and stamped onto the floor. A long, snaking neck swept around, and suddenly Tonklyn was staring into the eyes and jaws of an enormous black dragon. Its nose was was only a few feet from Tonklyn’s chest and it sniffed at him, growling. The fear of imminent death swept like a chilled wind over Tonklyn’s skin. The dragon drew its horned head back, away from Tonklyn, opened its hot and spiked-toothed mouth wide, and breathed in, deeply.

A scream ripped from Tonklyn’s chest, and he dropped to his knees, with his face to the floor, covering his head with his hands, and prayed that his death would be quick.

<<<>>>

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94 - “A Bad Report” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

By the time they finished their search of the grounds, stables, larder, and the winery, the sun was set and darkness was closing in. They began to set up a small encampment in the grass between the buildings.

Tonklyn returned to the manor house, and stood again in the great hall, trying to assess what had happened. The oculus hanging from the end of his staff lit the room very dimly, allowing him to only barely make out the shapes of things in the space.  He will not be pleased.

As he thought this, the warm summer air was suddenly blown through with a chilling wind. This was a wind that Tonklyn knew well, and feared. The wind picked up dust and clutter in a swirling vortex at one end of the hall. Darkness gathered around it, as if the wind was sucking the shadows themselves off of the walls and the floor, and blending it with the ash, dirt, and sticks being blown through the air. Slowly, the dark took form and the winds eased. The shifting mists coalesced into a large body with huge black shoulders, out of which grew a long, shifting neck, ending with a large dragon’s head.

Tonklyn immediately dropped to one knee. “Lord Kirraxal, My Master!”

The misty, shadowy, swirly dragon head focused directly on Tonklyn and spoke with a voice that hissed and reverberated through the shadows, “And what is it that won’t be pleasing to me?”

“There is much to report,” Tonklyn began, uncertain how to explain.

“Yes. Well. Go on, and report it.”

Tonklyn sighed, and bowed lower.

“SPEAK! It has taken much of my will to reach out to you, and my patience is low as well!”

“The Dragon’s Flame Chapter here is gone! The manor is a burned out hulk of a building.” Tonklyn took a deep breath. “And we only found five bodies.”

“Five!” The dragon roared, “Five? That chapter had over a dozen men!”

“Yes, my liege. There are signs of a struggle. There are no prisoners. No children, only empty shackles.”

The smoky dragon head looked from side to side. “Did you find the blade?”

Tonklyn shook his head, and mumbled, “No, sire.”

“SPEAK UP!”

“No, My Liege!” Tonklyn held his breath, then, “Nor the books. The treasury was empty as well!”

“And the stables?”

“Also empty.” The wind began to blow through the ruins again, whipping Tonklyn’s cloak and hair into his face.

“So.” The voice rasped with barely controlled rage, “There was a fight, and the prisoners escaped. Whoever was left decided that there was no point in staying, and made off with what they thought was valuable.”

“So it would seem, Sire.”

“And they didn’t think it wise to SEND ME NOTICE!”

Tonklyn struggled to maintain his position on the floor as the wind spiraled around him. “Apparently not, Sire.” He shouted, above the noise.

The winds blew and the mists darkened, and Tonklyn felt his heart racing with fear. Oh, this is it. It’s all over. I’m done for. He held his hands in front of his face as dust and debris flew past him. The rushing in his ears was deafening and he sank low to keep stable.

Then, as quickly as they had risen, the winds calmed and the shadows fell, back into the walls and the corners of the room. The dragon began to lose its shape, dissipating into the breeze. As it faded, it hissed, “We will deal with them as we find them. They have failed me for the last time. This is but one insignificant chapter of The Dragon’s Flame, and there are many more. Those in Twynne Rivers are preparing. You will leave to go to them with all haste in the morning. You, alone, have served me well, at the very least.”

The dust settled, the tumultuous winds calmed, and silence returned. Only the calls of the forest birds could be heard. Tonklyn raised his face, then his shoulders. He stood and dusted off his cloak. He picked up his staff and steadied the shining oculus hanging from the tip. He slowly walked out of the hall and into the yard. There he saw the incredulous and horrified faces of his guard.

“Well, then. I guess you heard. We’ll leave in the morning.” He swallowed hard, then stepped past them, toward his tent. “Sleep well.”

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
Thank you: Chet Cox, Genevieve Springer!

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