Revaramek stared at the sky in shock after Aylaryl rocketed out of sight. He scrunched up his muzzle, pinning back his ears. “Did you hear what she said to me? How terribly rude!” Spines flared, he glanced back at his entourage. Beka held a sword in one hand, Tavaat his massive crossbow. “Well? Did you?”

Beka glanced at Tavaat. “I don’t think she-”

“Nuzzle her ass, really?” Revaramek turned around, barely noticing the others as they stumbled out of reach of his tail spines. “I’ll show her!” He lashed his tail, shattering a plant’s clay pot and spraying dirt across the street. “I’ll nuzzle her ass so hard!” He blinked, his ears drooping. “Wait, that didn’t come out right.”

“No, I imagine it didn’t.” Beka switched her sword to her other hand, panting. “So what now?”

“Now?” Revaramek cocked his head, licked his nose, and then pointed with a wing tip back the way they’d come. “Now we follow them! I think they were going back to Mirelle’s tavern.”

“But we just ran all the way here!” Tavaat drummed his fingers against the crossbow, tail twitching. “I’m already exhausted! Shouldn’t we go find more guards?”

“As much as I hate to agree with Tavaat…” Beka glanced over at him, then peered up at the dragon. “I think he’s right. We need to let the authorities-”

“The guards can’t do anything!” Revaramek tossed his head, then moved around his two friends and trotted down the street. He’d done his best to fill the two of them in during the first part of their chase. “None of them will ever be able to touch Asterbury anyway, only the hero can stop him. And possibly Mirelle.”

Revaramek stopped at an intersection. He glanced around, glad to see the streets were still mainly empty here. Probably helped that he’d been yelling ‘dragon attack!’ the whole time they were running towards the hill. Granted, the town’s various assorted peasants and old grans probably thought he was the dragon attacking. Still, as long as they were safe, he could sort things out later.

Beka jogged after the dragon. “Then what the hell are we doing?”

Tavaat hurried to catch up with her, his little frills flattened. “Yeah, what do you expect us to do?”

“You two have to distract him, just like Mirelle did with her maul!” Revaramek glanced back at them over his copper-splotched wings. “Then when he’s busied himself dodging your feeble attempts at combat, I’ll take his head off! Let’s see him heal that.”

“Hey!” Tavaat shook his crossbow at the dragon. “There’s nothing feeble about this thing!”

“Mirelle has a maul?” Beka gasped. She paused to catch her breath, glancing at the va’chaak. “Tavaat, we should get mauls!”

“That’s a terrible idea, Beka.”

Revaramek cocked his head, fixing his gaze on Tavaat’s weapon. “You’re right, you should shoot her with that!”

Tavaat’s eyes went wide. He stared at his crossbow. “I’m not gonna shoot Beka! Not just for having a dumb idea, anyway.”

Beka punched him on the shoulder. “Ass!”

“Aylaryl!” Revaramek snapped his teeth.

“Where?” Tavaat raised the crossbow towards the sky.

“In the paw!” Revaramek scratched his neck with a wing tip. “Or maybe in the throat, if you have too.”

“What?” Tavaat lowered the crossbow again.

“I know, I know.” Revaramek splayed his ears, shaking his head. “I don’t want to have to kill her either! But if we can get Asterbury to heal her, it should weaken him long enough for me to finish him off!”

“Huh?” Beka glanced back and forth between the two of them.

Revaramek lifted a paw and splayed it in front of Beka’s face. “See, our pads are soft. That crossbow would punch right through it and into the bone. Maybe all the way through. Now, that would cripple her, but I’m not sure that would make Asterbury stop fighting. He might just…blast us all with a sandstorm or an earthquake.”

“What the hell are you babbling-”

“But if you shoot her here…” He tapped a black claw tip against the pale green scales of his upper throat. “Then she’ll be dying, and he’ll have to stop what he’s doing to come save her life! Then when he’s all weak and stumbly, I’ll push him down and squish his head like a melon!”

Tavaat growled, his tail lashing. “No, where’s Alyaryl?”

“Back at the tavern, I’m sure.” Revaramek tossed his head. “I mean, really. Why do you think we’re heading back the way we came?”

“Then why did you shout her name?!” Tavaat stomped his foot. The motion jarred his crossbow and it discharged. The bolt whistled through the air and punched a hole straight through a barrel in a nearby alley. Wine poured out of it in twin red geysers, front and back. “Oh shit! Sorry, sorry.”

“Again, Tavaat?” Beka slugged him in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Tavaat set the crossbow down, rubbing his arm. “Same damn spot!”

“Cause you did the same damn thing!”

“Did not.” Tavaat muttered, glancing away. “Last time it was a window.”

“Just stop shooting things!”

“You’re the one who told me to reload!” Tavaat pulled another bolt from the makeshift quiver he’d made of an old pack and strapped around himself.

“Cause I thought we were gonna be fighting a dragon and her lightning-throwing urd’thin wizard friend!” Beka gestured at the wine rolling down the street, streaming between cracks in the cobblestone. “This time it was a wine barrel, but next time it could be someone’s old gran!”

Tavaat grumbled and knelt down. “Just help my wind my crank again.”

Revaramek snapped his teeth. “This is no time to have her toy with your crank!”

“I mean on the crossbow!”

Beka folded her arms, smirking. “As quickly as you seem to discharge, I doubt there’d be much ‘winding’ required, anyway.”

Revaramek tilted his head, taking them both in as they glared at each other. “Are you two sure you’re not a mated pair?”

Beka waved her sword in the air. “Don’t you start with that, Dragon!”

“Watch your damn sword!” Revaramek yanked his head back. “You’re both as bad as each other! No wonder you won’t admit your feelings!”

Tavaat coughed, sounding as if he’d nearly swallowed his tongue. He set the string and put a fresh bolt in.

Beka snapped at the dragon. “That is not why I won’t admit my feelings! Wait, I mean-”

Tavaat jerked upright, and the crossbow went off again, burying a bolt deep  in a wooden wall. For a second he didn’t even seem to notice. Instead he just stared at Beka.

Beka turned away from him. “You’re running out of bolts!”

“Huh?” The va’chaak glanced down, hissing. “Damn it!”

Revaramek put a forepaw over his muzzle. “Beka, help him load his weapon before he’s out of ammo. You two can work out your relationship issues later!”

Tavaat turned the crank, grimacing at the effort. “We don’t have issues with our relationship!”

Beka put her sword down and set the bolt when the string was secure. “We don’t have a relationship!”

“Yes, I can tell!” Revaramek lolled his head around, ears splayed. “If there were any more sparks between you two you’d light each other’s clothes on fire! Oooh, there’s an idea, maybe I can light his clothes on fire!”

“Just because we’ve grown…well…we were always…it’s just…”

“You sound like Mirelle after she downed half that barrel of wine.”

“Mirelle did what?” Beka gaped, then furrowed her brow and shook a finger at the dragon. “Nevermind! Listen dragon, our relationship is hardly any of your business, so…are you listening to me?”

Revaramek perked his heads, then tilted his head. “Do you hear that?”

“Oh, what now?” Beka snatched her sword back up.

“I could have sworn I heard a clanking.”

Clank. Clankclank. Clank. Clink. Clankclankclank.

“There it is again!” Revaramek curled his neck into an S. “Oh, I think it’s the tea kettle! He must be heading to the tavern to confront Aylaryl and Asterbury.” Revaramek scrunched his muzzle. Frustration made his spines bristle. “Damn it, now we have to save him.”

“Who?” Beka helped Tavaat back to his feet once his crossbow was ready.

“I think he means Knight Commander Elrind.” Tavaat made sure the safety catch was engaged. “Do we really have to save that idiot?”

“Yes!” Revaramek lifted his head, spreading his wings. The copper splotches caught the last of the evening sun, shining burnt gold. “A hero saves everyone!” He snorted. “Even the idiots.”

“Suppose he’s got a point.” Tavaat lifted the crossbow, about to scratch his head with it.

Beka put her hand on the weapon and guided it back down. “Luckily for you.”

Revaramek curled his tail, regarding the webbed spines. “Besides, I’ve already made a mess of Mirelle’s tavern. If I let Asterbury stain the place with the tea kettle’s blood, she’s going to have my balls under her boot.”

Beka giggled as she started down the street ahead of the dragon. “Now there’s an amusing mental image!”

“Oh very funny!” Revaramek straightened his tail, then gave it an angry lash. It scythed through another wine barrel, sloshing the sweet smelling liquid all over the street.

Beka glanced back at them. “Gods, between the two of you there’s not gonna be a town left to save!”

“Please, Beka, I’m not half as destructive as Asterbury and Aylaryl.” Revaramek trotted after her, swiveling his ears to the sounds of clanking metal.

“That’s just because they’re doing it on purpose!”

“It’s not a competition, Beka!” Revaramek skirted past her, claw tips clicking on cobblestone.

“That’s what I was about to say to you!”

“Can’t hear you, saving the day!” Revaramek hopped over a vendor’s cart left abandoned in the middle of the street. His tail caught the top of it and sent baskets of fruit toppling to the ground. “Councilwoman Mirelle will pay for that!”

“No she won’t!” Tavaat called out behind the dragon.

Revaramek turned onto another street, glancing around to get his bearings. These human buildings all looked the same to him. He tried to pick out unique ones to serve as landmarks. That one had white walls and dark beams. The one at the end of the street had blue paint and a golden mug hanging from a sign post. The row of small houses on the other side of the lane all had roofs of thatched reed. Well, that didn’t help. Revaramek thought all the houses with thatched roofs were on the other side of the village. Had he taken a wrong turn? This would be so much easier if he was flying, but then his minions couldn’t keep up. He cocked his head. Heroes didn’t have minions, did they? No, villains had minions, he was sure of it. And if he was the hero, then Beka and Tavaat must have been his sidekicks.

When Beka and Tavaat rounded the corner behind him, he glanced back. “This would be easier if I could just carry my trusty sidekicks in the air, and land at the tavern.”

“Yes, perfect!” Beka held her arms out to her sides, her sword glinting gold in the evening sun. “Hoist me aloft, dragon! I want to see what the world looks like from above!”

“Oh no.” Tavaat backed away, shaking his head. “No wings, no flight. That’s what the gods intended.”

Beka turned to glare at him. “You and Mirelle both. I’ll never understand it.”

Revaramek tilted his head, spines lifted. “I won’t drop you.”

“He won’t drop us, Tavaat.”

“I ain’t going!” Tavaat flared his little red frills, taking a few more steps away.

“Oh, no matter.” Beka waved at Tavaat’s crossbow, then dropped her arms. “With that thing, he’d probably end up shooting one of us anyway.” She smirked at the dragon. “Probably you, then we’d all end up dead.”

Revaramek flattened his ears back. “Hopefully at least I’d crash into Asterbury.” Distant clanking made him perk his ears again. The sound was steady now, growing a bit louder. “Oh! There it is again! I’m just going to follow it and try to cut him off.”

The green dragon broke into a trot, hurrying down the lane. Though the streets were mostly empty after everyone sought shelter from Aylaryl, a few townsfolk did dash out of his way when he neared them. A couple peasants ran into a house. A child stared at him from an alleyway. A few old grans sitting on a wooden porch ignored him, focused on the banner they were weaving. Customers in a tavern yelled supportive things. The drunker ones yelled suggestive things.

Following the sounds of the Knight Commander’s armor, Revaramek finally reached the street that lead back to Mirelle’s tavern. Tall, leafy trees spanned one side of the road. An elegant yet functional wooden fence ran along the cobblestone. The Cathedral sat beneath the canopies well behind the fence. Across the road were a variety of shops selling all sorts of goods, including a shoe store. A sign in the window advertised the fact that they were now selling custom boots. Revaramek snorted, thinking they must have added that just for Mirelle.

Further down the road, on the other side the gate that lead to The Cathedral, a man in full plate armor jogged down the road. With every step, the metal clanked and rattled around him. Revaramek flattened his ears back against the noise. No wonder the man couldn’t understand a thing anyone said, with a cacophony like that rattling his brain wherever he went. Behind the tea kettle were another dozen men matching his pace, trotting behind him in perfect formation. Each wore a red and blue tabard over heavy chain mail. They all had swords at their hips. A few had axes on their backs, and several carried pikes.

Revaramek came to a stop, staring. That was different. When Beka and Tavaat ran up on either side of him, panting for breath, Revaramek waved a paw at the incoming guards. “Look! The tea kettle’s got competent men this time!”

Tavaat took a few heaving breaths. “I think those…are his usual…men. They’re just…taking it seriously…now.”

Revaramek strode forward, calling out. “Tea Kettle! Hold it right there, we need to talk!”

Beka hissed through grit teeth. “Don’t call him that out loud!”

“Chaaarrrge!” The armored knight drew his sword and sprinted towards Revaramek.

“Not me, you idiot!” Revaramek stopped, wings flared.

“Wrong dragon, sir!”

“Have at thee, beast!” The Tea Kettle kept coming.

Revaramek reared onto his hind legs long and beat his wings. The resulting gust that swirled around the armored man was enough to end his charge and rock him back on his heels. As he wobbled, the dragon dropped back down, surged forward and thumped his horned head into the tea kettle’s armored chest. CLANG! Revaramek was careful not to hit him too hard, just enough to send him tumbling backwards. He hit the ground with an ear scraping rattle.

“Ah! Lads, right me, quick! I’ll have his ears off, for that!”

Two of the nearest men hoisted Elrind back to his feet. One of them repeated his earlier call. “It’s the wrong dragon, Sir!”

The knight waved an armored hand. “You’ve spied the thong wagon? Nonsense! This is hardly the time to shop for skimpy undergarments. Frankly, I’m appalled such a thing roams our fair streets.”

“Wrong! Dragon!” The other man who’d helped him out shouted into the side of his helmet. “This one is green!”

“I know he’s obscene!” The knight shrugged them off. “I recall quite clearly the foul things that tumble off his tongue!”

“Green!”

“Mean, yes, that too! This isn’t the first time he’s knocked me on my tushie! Why, last time we weren’t even in combat!” He swung an armored fist, narrowly missing one of his men. “And he disrespected Lady Mirelle! Why do you think I want to knock some sense into him?”  

“Listen here!” Revaramek lowered his head to try and peer through the thin slits of the man’s armored visor. “We’re all on the same side now, Tea Kettle!”

“Pee nettle?” The man jerked his head back and forth. “That sounds very uncomfortable!” He slowly uncurled a single gauntleted finger, then shook it stiffly at one of his men. “But that’s what happens when you gallivant about with a new lover every day! Don’t think I haven’t heard the stories about you and your maidens!”

The ruddy-faced soldier stared at the finger. “I ain’t been wif no one but me wife!”

“He’s over there, sir!” One of the men turned him back towards the dragon.

“Right! Thank you, Jeeves!”

“I’m Jeeves, Sir!” A man behind him waved.

“What?” The knight spun around, facing a third man.

“I’m Bart, Sir!”

Elrind twisted around once more, armor clanking, and ended up shaking his finger at the same ruddy-faced man as before. “Let this foul creature be a lesson to you all! You spend your nights making whoopee with women you scarcely know, and you’ll end up feeling like you’re peeing nettle, just like this disgusting thing here!”

Revaramek arched his neck, gazing down at the whole group. “Why the hell do you even put up with this?”

“It’s funny!”

“His father founded the brigade!”

“Cause me old gran married his old da!”

Revaramek groaned, wanting to hide his head beneath his wings.

One of the men who’d helped the knight up stepped forward. “Actually, he’s got a good heart. I’d rather a ceremonial buffoon with a heart full of kindness than a cruel taskmaster like they had before. He’s just in charge of the gate brigade, anyway.”

The dragon tilted his head. “Huh. I was starting to think Asterbury had slipped him into the story just make conquering this town easier! Or just to screw with you.”

The soldier scrunched his face. “Who’s Asterbury? He the one riding that other dragon?”

“Correct!” A grin broke out across Revaramek’s muzzle. Finally, someone who didn’t need everything explained to him every step of the way.

Beka stepped forward, circling a finger in the air. “Rev says he’s the one who created all that massive lightning!”

“What?” Elrind stepped forward.

Revaramek glanced at her, flattening his spines. “Beka, don’t-”

“Massive!” Beka put a hand alongside her mouth. “Lightning!”

“What?” The armored knight tried to look down at himself over his shoulder. “Why yes, my ass is tightening. I’ve been working out, thank you for noticing! Surprised you could tell with my armor on. But you know how I feel about that gutter mouth. Doesn’t befit a lady! Why not try substituting fanny next time? I always find it more satisfying to grasp for a less obscene word, less commonly used. That’s why I always grasp for tushie!” He tilted his armored. “Wait, that sounds terrible. See what your gutter humor has done to me?”

“That’s it!” Revaramek settled onto his haunches and put a hand on the knight’s armored shoulder. “The helmet is coming off!”

While Elrind flailed ineffectively against the dragon, Revaramek grasped his helmet with his free paw. He pulled it straight up and away from the man’s head. As soon as the steel rose, it unleashed a tidal wave of red facial hair as the biggest walrus mustache Revaramek had ever imagined spilled forth. It washed across the man’s face like a bristly crimson ocean, matched only by the flowing locks that rolled down the back of the knight’s head, and the massive mutton chops that battled valiantly with his mustache for territory.

“What the hell?” Revaramek stared at the knight’s mustache, his muzzle hanging open. He turned the helmet over and peered inside it. “Where you’ve been keeping all that?”

“I’ve never seen him without his helmet before!” Beka stared, as slack-jawed as Revaramek.

Tavaat slowly tilted his head as if trying to take it all in. “I didn’t know humans could do that.”

“How do you fit it all inside this thing?” Revaramek shook the helmet a few times, half expecting more mustache to fall out.

“I shall take that to mean you are suitably impressed.”

“Oh, gods yes, it’s glorious!”

“Ah, finally something I can agree upon with you, Dragon! Now if I only I could convince the lads…”

“I’ve got to tell Mirelle!”

“A good knight should have a proper mustache!”

“She’ll never believe me!” Revaramek waved his paw over the knight’s face. “It’s like you’ve got an entire nest of wooly red caterpillars living on your face!”

“Well…I…ah…I’m not sure I’d put it that way.” The knight snatched back his helmet from the dragon.

“No wonder you can’t hear anything, that mustache must get stuffed into your ears when you put your helmet on!”

“Where is Lady Mirelle? We’d heard the most terrible news, and then that other dragon attacked, and-”

“Oh! Right!” Revaramek clapped his forepaws. “Aylaryl! She and…” The dragon stared at the knight a moment. Revaramek had a sneaking suspicion that while the knight might be able to hear without his helmet, he wasn’t going to handle complicated explanations any better than before. He cocked his head, trying to imagine how such a knight might be addressed in a children’s story. “She’s the evil dragon, and she and her villainous rider have taken up positions behind Lady Mirelle’s tavern. As for Lady Mirelle, she’s elsewhere, marshalling…ah…an army of gryphons!” Or so he hoped. “As the hero of this story, I’m about to go confront the villains. So I’ll need you and your men to…ah…wait and assist me as needed.” He spread a wing, waving it towards the hill where the council hall once stood. “I believe the villainous cad has ill intent for your dear council so…some of you should make haste to protect them!”

“Right!” The knight spun around, facing his men. “Ready arms, Lads! You lot, go and protect the council! You two, stay here with me, to provide support for the dragon against the...er…other dragon!”

As most of the group broke away to find the members of the village’s council, Elrind lifted his helmet. Revaramek reached out and put a paw on it to prevent him from donning it again right now. “Now, bear in mind this villain has a great deal of powers.”

Elrind clucked his tongue. “Cursed villains. They always do, don’t they.”

“They do?” Revaramek pulled his head back.

“Right ho, they do!” Elrind curled his gauntleted hand into a fist, with great effort. “Why, once there was an evil wizard, and a captive princess, and he wove his foul magic into all manner of poisoned tarts and sweets. And only the brave knight, and his faithful talking-”

“You are from some children’s story, aren’t you!” Revaramek thumped his tail, the spines scratched the cobblestone. “I knew it!”

“What are you on about now, dragon?” The knight pulled his helmet back again.

“Nevermind.” Revaramek snapped his teeth. “Look, this villain is too dangerous for you all, I don’t want you to be the nameless knights he obliterates just to demonstrate his power, so…don’t engage unless I call for you! And…in that case, you’ll be serving as distraction.”

“Ah!” The knight pumped his fist. “Bit of the old misdirection!”

“Well, something like-”

“The old switcheroo!”

Revaramek blinked. “No.”

“The old gobsmack in the dark!”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“The old donkey punch?”

“Definitely not! In fact, I don’t think you know what-”

“The old soup can switch?”

“Now you’re just spouting nonsense!” Revaramek growled loud enough to drown out the knight. “Just follow me into the tavern, then wait there to see if I need you or not! Got it?”

“Got it!” Elrind turned back towards his men. “You heard the dragon, Lads! To the tavern, and keep low! Get ready for the old two-step bumswoggle!”

“Did you hit your head when you tumbled out of that picture book you came from?” Revaramek eased away, glancing at Beka and Tavaat. “I hope you two are clear on the plan at least.”

Tavaat tilted his head back to peer up at the dragon. “We have a plan?”

“I distract Asterbury, you shoot Aylaryl, and when he has to heal her to save her life, I incarnate him while he’s all woozy.”

Beka trotted up the flagstones. “That actually does sound like something resembling a plan.”

Revaramek slunk across the path behind her. The knight and his two more competent comrades moved up behind the dragon. Beka and Tavaat pushed the doors open, then stepped aside to give him room to move in. Revaramek glanced at the ground, watchful for broken glass and sharp debris that now littered the floor of the expansive tavern. He skirted around the field of rubble his arrival left beneath the gaping hole where the bell tower once stood.

“This place is a mess.” He opened his wings to brush them against Beka and Tavaat. “You two had better get it cleaned up before Mirelle gets back.”

“That’s what I said!” Beka whispered, nudging Tavaat.

“You were just trying to cheer me up! And why are you whispering?”

“So Asterbury doesn’t hear us coming!” Beka pressed herself up against the wall alongside the back doors. Colorful broken glass crunched beneath her boots. She craned her neck, peeking out the shattered window. “I don’t see them. They must be beyond the pine trees.”

Revaramek rustled his wings as Tavaat got the back doors open. “You don’t need to be quiet, Beka. He definitely knows we’re coming.” He blinked, lifted his head, and gazed around. “Hrrmph. I half expected him to pop out just now and tell me how right I was.”

The dragon pushed himself through the door frame. He hissed and scrunched his muzzle as the doorway scraped his wounded wings. He wasn’t badly injured, but the pressure made the tears in his membranes sting like mad. And all the bruises and gashes he’d collected in his various scrapes with Aylaryl were starting to ache worse again. Once through the door, he looked himself over. Dried blood and broken stitches marked him in a few places, along with fresh scars still healing.

“At least I look like a badass.” He snorted, and slipped through the patio, stepping over smashed furniture and a broken ornamental fence. A line of pine trees hemmed off Mirelle’s private grounds. Above the verdant stands of brilliant green ferns, flashes of purple scale peeked out, illuminated by the setting sun. “There she is…I think she’s just laying down.” He craned his long neck till he spotted what looked like gray fur. “I think he’s sitting with her. They must be plotting!”

Beka poked the dragon. “Quick! Run up and incinerate him!”

Revaramek snapped his jaws, then shook his horned head. “I’m not going to burn him while he’s sitting down.”

“Why the hell not?” Tavaat stood alongside Beka, tapping his fingers against his crossbow.

“Because it’s terribly unheroic to burn someone to death while they’re just sitting there.” He flexed his wings. “Surely even the tea kettle would agree with me!”

“You have to pee?” The knight’s voice was muffled by metal again. “Not the sort of information you should share, Dragon! Still, if you’ve got to go, may as well find a place to do so! You’ll be lighter for the battle!”

“Oh, gods.” Revaramek splayed his ears. “He put his helmet back on.” He gazed back at the other men. “You two stay here with him, but be ready to strike if called upon.”

“Got it.” One soldier put his hand on the tea kettle’s shoulder to keep him from following after the dragon.

“If I call for you, go for Aylaryl. The female dragon. You’ll have to trust me that you won’t be able to hit the urd’thin, but you can hit her.” He turned his gaze to Beka and Tavaat. “Same goes for you two. Wait till I call for you, and then go after her if you can. The more wounded she gets, the more distracted he’ll be, and the more vulnerable that will make him to me. I hope. Also he’s got a temper so…I think if I piss him off enough, he might lose control long enough for me to strike. Either that or I’m going to lose an eye. Anyway, here I go!”

Revaramek bounded away from the group before anyone decided to try and talk him out of playing hero. Hell, who was playing? He was the hero. It was his story. He’d decide how it ended. He steeled his heart, called to mind some heroic epithets. He was going to call Asterbury out, tell him this story was not his to change, their fates were not his to twist, and this world was not his to control. The dragon sucked in a deep breath, held it in his lungs as he ran around behind the pine trees, ready to roar out his proclamation to the murderous little urd’thin and the bitter dragon held under his sway.

When he actually caught sight of them, his hero’s declaration died before the words could ever leave his throat.

Aylaryl lay upon her belly in the grass, with a foreleg enclosing Asterbury as sat sprawled against her. His head rested on her chest. With her other forepaw, she stroked his big, gray-furred ears. Both his arms were draped across the limb that cradled him. One of his hands rested upon her blue paw, the other caressed her purple scutes. His eyes were closed, and a smile parted his muzzle. Even at a distance, the intensity of her contented purr left the air shuddering.

At first, Revaramek simply stared. He’d never expected a monster could look so content. It was almost like catching a glimpse of a whole different person, not Asterbury, but…whoever he once was, before. Was this what truly lay behind all the cackling madness and unfathomable power? It was almost…normal. And for Aylaryl, he understood now. Whatever she saw in him, whatever kinship she’d found, she had a family again. It reminded him of the days when he had someone to cuddle with. In a sudden, intense moment, he missed those days.

“You could leave.” The words spilled from Revaramek’s tongue before he even knew they were forming. “Together. Live somewhere, far from here. Swear to end this now, and I’ll let you go. I won’t follow.”

Alyaryl’s purr ceased in an instant. Asterbury’s eyes shot open, and for the briefest of moments, terror shone in them. In that instant, it was not Asterbury staring back at him but some other person entirely, caught off-guard by a terrifying, unknown world. Asterbury stared at him like a frightened pup, or a horrified father. Revaramek’s breath caught. What reverie had he drawn the urd’thin out of? His gray-furred muzzle worked but no noise came out. He shivered, blinked, and then the frightened pup and horrified father were gone. And only Asterbury remained.

Even then, Asterbury’s voice was broken, hoarse. “Do you miss your mother?”

The question struck Revaramek like a physical blow. His lungs seized, his heart struggled to beat, and he stumbled back, dropping onto his haunches. “…What?”

“Your mother.” Asterbury leaned his head back against Aylaryl again, closing his eyes. “Ayl tells me you were two were very close. Do you miss her?”

“Of course I do. What manner of horrible question is that?” A spark of anger ignited in Revaramek and he fixed his glare on the purple dragon. “I don’t want you talking to him about my mother. About my life.”

“I miss my family, too.” Asterbury gave a whimpering sigh as Aylaryl hugged him against her chest. “More than I can put to words. Sometimes I close my eyes, and I see him again. He’s standing there, before me.” He stretched his hand, reaching for his memories. “He’s laughing, smiling.” His ears drooped. “Then I open my eyes, and I realize he’s dead.” His voice drifted, aimless and alone. “They’re all dead. I know that, now. The whole tribe, everyone who was like me. I’m the only one left. Maybe…maybe I always have been been. Just…he and I, and…life breathed into shapes in the sand. All washed away.”

Revaramek swallowed, and glanced away. He flattened his ears. “You have her, now. You have each other. You should…if you go, I won’t chase you.”

“How kind.” Aylaryl snorted, glaring at him.

A smile returned to Asterbury’s muzzle, if only for a moment. “Now, Aylaryl. Be nice. The thought is appreciated. But I cannot go just yet. When my work here is done, she and I will go together.”

“I won’t let you hurt anyone else in my village.” Revaramek unsheathed his claws. His spines tingled, rising around his head. “Or any village here. This isn’t your story to change.”

“A very noble thought.” Asterbury lifted his head, eyes fixed upon the dragon. Flames flickered within the black ink of his eyes. “But I wonder. Would you change it yourself if it meant you could see your mother again?”

Cold claws seized Revaramek’s heart. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke.” Asterbury leaned forward across Aylaryl’s arm. “If you knew she was meant to die, if that was truly the way your story was meant to go, but you had the power to save her…would you?”

“You…you can’t ask me that.” Revaramek squeezed his eyes shut, and gave his horned head a violent shake. “That isn’t fair.”

“And yet, that was the very choice I faced, long ago.” Asterbury eased away from Aylaryl’s arm. He rose to his feet, and stretched his hands. Flickers of a happy, laughing pup flashed above one hand. Above the other, a sobbing father holding a bloodied body. “Hero. Villain.” The images stuttered, and changed. The father, broken and battered while the pup sobbed into blood-soaked fur. The pup riding the father’s shoulders, alone in an endless desert. “Everyone lives, everyone dies.” Tears welled in Asterbury’s eyes. “The hero lets him die, for the greater good. The villain saves his life, and calamity ensues. They put me to that choice, what was I to do? I held out…gods, they knew I held out…but it was so much pain. No one should have to endure such suffering. I loved him so much…what gods would punish me for ending that?”

“What…” Revaramek struggled to find words. “What did you do?”

“I solved their riddle.” Lightning flickered behind Asterbury’s eyes. “And I tore the sky asunder.”   

*****

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