At An Impasse

All thoughts – of treasure and fame and glory, of heroics, of wenches lining up as far as the eye could see, of bards and minstrels fighting to sing the better song, of a princess and maybe one day a kingdom, and maybe even one day a couple of wee lads and lasses of his own – vanished from Marcus’s mind, because the damned dragon took flight.

The sudden rush of air stole his breath and his scream, and even the roar of the vile beast was drowned in the noise. All thoughts were gone, and his hands acted instinctively. One held onto his dagger, clutching it just to clutch something, and the other grabbed a spine or spike or whatever the horrid juts of bone were that ran down the monster’s back. And Marcus hung on and wailed as the dragon took them higher.

It had seemed like such a good plan at the time. Sneak up on it while it was sleeping. Jump on its back to keep it from flying. Give it a good handful of stabbings while it was disoriented, and beat the others to the prize.

Turned out the dragon wasn’t much of a sleeper. It heard the others, and in a flash incinerated Adrian and Leofric, and smashed Jonas into the cave wall with its tail, shattering him like a porcelain doll. And disorientation? No. Fury, maybe. It leapt into the air as soon as Marcus fell on it.

They burst out of the cave mouth and into the dizzying blue of the day. Far below him – and far below is never where the ground should be – Marcus saw the world’s tiniest forests blur by. The roaring Halsana River was reduced to no more than a shimmering trickle, and in the distance he could even spot a grey and red smear, which with horror, he realized was walls and shingles – the town of Yarrowport. It had taken them four days trekking across the wilds to get from there to the mountain. How could it be so close? How could it be so small?

The dragon banked and Marcus screamed anew, his stomach lurching. All thoughts of killing the dragon tumbled out of his mind, because at this height, he’d never stop falling.

The beast stopped flapping and sailed on the wind. It craned its neck and its cold yellow eyes narrowed when they spotted Marcus. The thick green scales that passed for its lips parted, revealing teeth the size of arms, and when it opened its maw, Marcus could see an orange brightness at the back of its throat, growing in size and intensity. He saw the end of the world.

Not knowing what else to do, he screamed and raised his dagger high – and the beast must have recognized it for what it was: a jagged foot-long blade, carved from petrified giant-bone. Anathema to dragonkind. Wyrmbane.

For just a second its eyes widened, and then it folded up its wings and fell like a rock. Marcus nearly fell off, his death grip on the back spike slipping. All thoughts were gone, only panic remained. He stabbed down, trying to get any purchase whatsoever, and by some grace of the gods managed to wedge his blade under a scale.

Almost at once, the beast unfurled its wings again, and they came to a trembling glide.

“Remove it!” the dragon bellowed over its shoulder.

“No!” The blade was wedged pretty well under the dull green scale, making an excellent hold for his hand. And it was leverage. It rested against the beast’s flesh, and if he twisted just right, he could pierce the skin, and the wyrmbane would do the rest: death within seconds.

“Remove it now, mortal!”

“No!” Did dragons even speak? Was this actually happening, or had his mind become undone? His hands were starting to hurt from all the gripping, and if he wasn’t careful, he might accidentally kill them both. “Land on the ground!”

The dragon’s whole body shook with great thrumming convulsions, and it emitted a horrid set of booming hisses. It took Marcus a moment to realize it was laughing.

“Remove the blade and throw it away,” the dragon said, “and I will land you safely on the ground.”

Marcus let loose a falsetto squeak, a laugh of his own. “Oh right? Shall I take your word for it? Ha! I’ve heard of the famous ‘honour of dragons’!” Oh, of course dragons must talk – otherwise that wouldn’t be an expression.

The beast rumbled again, this time less jovially. “Do not presume to besmirch my kind, mortal.”

Besmirch? Marcus wondered.

“I am not the one who tried to sneak up on you and your unhatched young,” it continued, “with murderous intent.”

“Oh yeah? Well you did swoop down on Fellingsbrook and burn it to ashes! And then Vendelbridge and Carmory too, destroying everything and eating everyone!”

The dragon snorted. “What I do is no different from how your kind herd sheep and cows.”

“Herd!? We care for our livestock! We protect them from wolves. Eating them is a matter of necessity.”

“Indeed,” the dragon rumbled. “Who do you think put the gold seams into the earth, where you can find them? Who do you think keeps the elves at bay, so they don’t steal your sucklings in the night?”

Marcus frowned. “Nice try. Elves aren’t real, they’re just fairy tales. Everyone knows that.”

Again, the beast grunted. “You’re welcome.”

Marcus felt his skin crawl. They were fairy tales, weren’t they? This was probably just a trick. When he glanced behind him he was startled to see how small the mountain looked – no more than a distant pile of gravied potatoes. And if it was small, it must have been far too. He could no longer see Yarrowport, though there were other settlements. But from this vantage, nothing made sense and he couldn’t place things. How could a beast travel this quickly? Truly, flying would be marvellous if it wasn’t so stomach turning.

“I’m sure you’ll agree,” the dragon continued after a time, “about the necessity of eating.”

“Fine. Maybe. You could eat bears or deer or other forest things. You could leave us out of it.”

“I could. But tell me, would you content yourself, eating nothing but onions and leeks?”

Marcus scowled, unsure how to answer.

“I see we’re not so different after all,” the dragon said. “Maybe I’ve misjudged your kind. Come, let us have peace. Throw your blade away, and I will land us, and then we shall feast on deer and tell stories.”

“Yes, excellent. Land, and then I’ll throw my blade away.”

The dragon grunted. “Throw it away now and stop trying my patience, mortal.”

“It’s the only thing keeping me alive.”

“I’m the only thing keeping you alive.”

“Oh please! We both know I wield the power here. Now, this has gone on long enough – land at once! Or else!”

“Or else what?”

“I’ll stab you.”

“You might as well stab yourself, in that case.”

“I’m serious!” Marcus wiggled the blade.

“I’m waiting.”

They glided on in silence for another handful of miles, neither moving save for the odd wing twitch or finger spasm.

“Then we are at an impasse,” the dragon concluded.

Marcus fidgeted, trying his best to stretch, to keep his muscles from cramping. As soon as he stopped actively thinking about this, his whole body started tensing again. He knew he couldn’t afford that. He needed a distraction, time to think.

“Nalcrotharoxis,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“What!?”

“That’s what the king’s wizard said. Or do dragons not have names?”

“What a stupid question. Of course we have names. But human wizards are foolish dabblers and frauds. They shouldn’t be trusted. Nalcosi-what?” It shook its head, rumbling more laughter. “What marvellous idiocy.”

“Well then what is your name?”

“Adelle.”

“A… Adelle.”

“Yes.”

“That’s… hmm.”

“You do not approve? It is an ancient, traditional draconic name. It means one-who-gracefully-sails-upon-the-whispers-of-gods.”

“I just didn’t expect… Actually, my sister is named Adelle.”

“Then she is blessed, to bear a name of such honourable heritage.” Marcus pondered that. Never had he given much thought to names before. “Unfortunately, and ironically,” Adelle continued, “her bearing the name tarnishes that very honour.”

“Hey! My sister doesn’t tarnish anything.”

“It figures,” Adelle said. “Humans are incorrigible thieves. Of course they would even steal our names.”

“I’m not a thief!”

“Indeed! You only invaded my home, to what? Chat? Snuffle for truffles?”

“Shut up!” The perfect response, for when there was no other.

They continued drifting through the sky for a while, neither talking. Marcus spent his time plotting a way out of this – and he had no doubt ‘Adelle’ was doing the same – and frequently found his mind wandering. How far had they travelled was a recurring thought. The dragon was fast and showed no signs of slowing. But surely she would have to rest at some point, right? Even the best horses needed water.

“What’s your name, thief?”

“I’m not a thief.” He scowled. “It’s Marcus.”

Adelle rumbled more hoarse laughter. “Marcus. Of course.”

“What? What’s wrong with that?”

“That’s one of ours, too. It means one-whose-wisdom-calms-storm-and-sea.”

“Well what does that mean?”

“It means that the bearer of the name is wise, and can negotiate peace between even the most bitter of foes.” There was something pensive in her tone. “He is one who finds balance, one who resolves disputes. Tell me, Marcus, are you a diplomat among your kind?”

“No.” Not much of anything, among his own kind. Born too common for honour, too poor for opportunity. Violence for hire, though he’d like to call it heroism. But he’d failed at dragon slaying, hadn’t he? Maybe it had been a wild idea, a daft hope, but still so much better than the alternative. Taking to the highways, and then taking. “I’m a sellsword.”

“Mm, interesting. Names have power, did you know that? Perhaps you missed your calling. Perhaps it’s not too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“This,” Adelle said. “Us. Surely you see this is madness. If one of us does not budge, we will both perish. Yes?”

Marcus swallowed. “Yes.”

“I have faith in you. I think it is no mere coincidence that brought us together today, and no mere happenstance that you were endowed with such a powerful name. Fulfill your potential, Marcus. Seize the reins of your life, and let the wisdom within you, out. Take the first step, cast away your blade, and bring peace to us.”

He swallowed again. He hadn’t thought of his sister in years. Didn’t rightly know if she still lived. Life on the road wasn’t glamorous. Was rarely profitable. Once upon a time he had promised to send her aid, and he wondered: was she still waiting? Or did she know, that every blood-spattered penny he earned, he pissed away on himself?

“You have faith in me?” Could it be? A higher calling, a better way?

“I do,” Adelle said. “No creature is as simple as the skin it wears. I sense great turmoil within you – and great potential.”

“Fine.” How many of his brothers in arms – men he’d considered friends – turned on him, when times became hard? “Then prove your faith. Land, and trust in me to stay my blade.”

He felt a rumble of irritation ripple through the flesh beneath him. “I cannot, and you know this.”

“Then we are at an impasse,” Marcus said.

They drifted further in pensive silence. By the time the sky took on a yellow hue, and the sun began its descent in earnest, the land below them abruptly vanished and was replaced by roiling black waves, with shimmering white crests. Marcus had heard stories of the seas, but his travels had never taken him beyond the coast before. When he looked out to the horizon he saw it was truly endless.

So much water.

“Adelle.”

“Hmm?”

“I need to pee.”

“So pee, Marcus.”

She didn’t speak again for what felt like hours, when the yellow above was tinged with reds and followed by blues.

“Do you have any young, Marcus?”

“Children?”

“Yes. I have a clutch myself. Unhatched, as of yet. Three of them. There were others before, too, but they’ve since grown. Gone their own ways. You?”

“No. Never really had the time. Or the means. I wanted some, I think, but – no. Never actually did.”

“A pity. One must make the time, I find, for the important things.”

“Yeah, that’s probably right. Only, what’s important? I don’t think you know what it’s like. Being one of us, I mean. Every day, a scramble just for bread.”

“Mm. You are right. I don’t know what it’s like.”

The sky grew darker and gradually the stars came out. Marcus was losing the feeling in his legs, unable to get comfortable, and when he blinked he feared he had dozed for a moment. His eyelids struggled to stay open.

When he looked below them, it seemed to him the moonsplashed waters were closer than before. He concentrated on staying awake, focusing on Adelle’s flapping. Only, she wasn’t flapping at all, just deep in a long glide. And the waters were definitely nearer.

“Adelle?”

“Mm.”

“Are you getting tired?”

“Yes, I suppose I am.” The rumbling of her voice was sluggish.

“Me too.” The last of the sun had almost sunk beneath the waves.

“Adelle?”

“Hmm?”

“We need to come to some agreement. We need to be sensible here.”

“Wise words, Marcus. I agree.”

The sun vanished and the stars overtook them. And in silence, they sailed ever forward. And in silence, they drifted ever lower.