United Dragons

by Calista Lambrechts

  In the form of five towering steps we could finally reach the roof, one by one pulling ourselves up onto the mildly warm purple-red tiles. As I stood I looked out across the glorious sight of that which was Thorodan. A small town it was, but I needed nothing more. It was perfect.

  I could see rays of dusk’s red light slashing through the spots of light grey clouds hanging over the city, clearly busy moving on since, judging by the wet streets and running gutters, it had rained not too long ago before we had even come close to these parts of Ysellian.

  When I turned my eyes back from the scenery, I noticed Terrowin to be knelt down by the edge of the skylight and already busily carrying out the plan. With a dagger pushed in underneath the skylight’s rim, he pushed down and ended up opening it without any unnecessary damage. He fastened the rope to one of the roof ornaments adorning the rim of the rooftop. Twice he pulled on it to make sure it was sturdy enough to use. I shot him a smile as I passed him by, grabbing the rope. Step by step I started climbing in through the skylight, hands folded firmly around the thick length of rope.

  When I was in and ready I could easily climb down into the lofty museum. As I lowered myself down I caught the stench of old dampened air and ancient dust amongst the relics. I can’t lie if I say that I liked it. It was far from the title of ‘bad smell’ as it mildly hung around in the still air.

  It took me less than a minute before my feet could gently rest on the smooth marbled, glass-coated floors of the museum. It was adorned by numerous windows up top, especially on top of the large doors out front. Those windows welcomed streams of midevening light to fall into the museum and caress the floors.

  It appeared that I had landed in the main hall. Ancient masks and weapons and etcetera decorated all the walls. The halls stood with rich history as plentiful statues, display cases and ancient relics, once used by these of the days of old, adorned it.

  The temperatures were rather warm and quite to my liking. I felt comfortable. I felt welcome. I felt… at home.

  If I wasn’t a wanted fugitive, I would’ve come here every day, or perhaps, considering the fact that I was no longer a waitress, try for a job here. I’ll have to put that on my bucket list: A means of a way to settle down after I’m done saving Ysellian’s ass.

  Nick came in after me, dumbly letting go of the rope halfway down. He fell smack onto the ground, but it didn’t seem to bother him at all. That eager, and quite excited, smile remained plastered on his face as he picked himself up. Terrowin remained up on the rooftop to keep a lookout on the surrounding areas of the museum in case any guard or museum staff decided to come back for their spare house keys.

  Nevertheless, the Nation Museum of Thorodan was closed for the day. We still had to be careful though, there’s always a night guard acting as a possible means for a fiasco. At least, according to my calculations of night shifts, the night watch shouldn’t arrive until quite a while from now. We still had time, plenty, but not of abundance.

  “We need to split up. I’ll take the left-wing, you do the right.” Nick nodded and scampered off as I turned to look into the open arch leading to the chambers on the left-hand side. Together we searched the museum in hope of finding the fire of the immoral dragon himself. Down every corridor we looked, through every light-filled room we checked, each on our own terms. It wasn’t until I heard Nick calling from afar that when I knew the old hermit had actually found something.

  “NIC!” he called again.

  “Hold your horses, I’m on my way!”

  Approaching the room Nick had called from, I could notice the faint glimmer of orange-red light dancing out the door. It had my heart racing, eyes shining with pure excitement that I couldn’t contain. I turned into the room and noticed Nick, completely mesmerized as his eyes were permanently fixed on the large swirling ball of fire up ahead on a massive honoured pedestal of its own. Strips of flame danced around this ball in a striking display. Braziers aside this exhibition were all lit. The people of Thorodan really did outdo themselves in making this the main attraction, the main attraction that ironically took us quite a bit of time to find.

  Thorodan’s fire was no doubt the most beautiful of all I had seen so far… or in this case… a bit more outstanding and exaggerated than Imperion’s. I had yet to see the rest. The swirl of fire immediately made me think of Terrowin. I wondered how he would react to see his element in its most purest form… and I know I was impressed!

  I dug into my satchel and withdrew an empty jar.

  “Hold on, Nick. This might get intense. Get a fire suit or something because this is bound to hurt!”

  “Nic!” Nick yelped as he made for the door, peering past the doorframe, for he was curious to see what would happen next.

  I took a few steps back and opened the jar’s lid and held it out to the fire. The swirls grew faster and the small red sparks grew blinding. A strong wind of heat stared to blow throughout the room, almost in the form of a tornado. My hair was swept to the side and the fire radiated even more warmth than it did before.

  The air turned to a scorching heat. I had to keep my ground or I would be swept along the wind’s most powerful currant. I gritted down on my teeth as I tried my best to keep my feet on the ground, looking away from the blinding ball of red and orange. The fire started sucking into the glass jar and the jar grew hot. Drops of sweat rolled down my forehead, my eyes closed, for the heat was too great.

  Even Nick had his own troubles.

  The tornado-like wind tried to suck the poor hermit into the room. He grabbed at the wooden doorframe and held on for dear life. Luckily for him there was no door to slam close on his fingers. His feet were lifted from the ground and soon he found himself to be kicking in thin air. His body was shaken and pulled at, waving in the air like an old smelly bearded windsock.

  I don’t know for how long this kept on, but it felt like ages. Fortunately, the fire was finally in the jar and the lid was fastened to its end on an automatic rate. The very instant the winds and the fire stopped, I accidentally dropped the blistering jar to the ground, grabbing at my burnt hand. It was in agony. My fingers and the palm of my hand were as red as tomatoes. Imagine pushing your hand into an open campfire and pressing your hand onto the red-hot coals and burning wood for about a minute... Yes, I do hope you understand my pain, because the pain is relevant to that situation.

  “Niiic…” Nick said woozily as he tried to get to his feet. The poor hermit’s beard was slightly singed, and not to mention the room. The ceiling, smoothened floors and painted walls were all frayed with numerous large black scorch marks.

  I was rather out of breath. Collecting myself, I ducked down and got the glass jar that was already cooled by now and stuffed it into my satchel. Of course, I only had one hand to use.

  The other… well, you get the drama.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” I said to Nick as my eyes scanned the room one last time.

  “Nic nic!” my friend agreed without a single hint of reluctance.

  We made for the main hall where the mild midevening light still shone and the rope still hung untouched from the skylight. Terrowin heard our footfalls and peered through the skylight, keeping himself at a ready to pull his companions up from the scene of the crime. Whilst we made our way back to the rope, fate proved cruel. There was the rattle of keys outside the front doors and a tinkering at the lock.

  “Night guard!” I gasped.

  There was no time to climb up. We had to hide. Quickly scanning the area, I noticed that the display case next to me seemed relatively large. With the hilt of my sword I broke the lock and kicked it in under the case as it fell.

  With haste I opened the case by its latches and hopped in, closing it afterwards. Nick was creative. He used the sarcophagus I failed to see. The sarcophagus was placed upright against the wall. There was a click at the front double doors and one of them slowly swung open as the night guard entered, closing it behind him. He was well aware of the loud noise of me
breaking down the lock and Nick opening and closing the heavy door of the sarcophagus, and perhaps even the fire being vacuumed from its podium.

  On high alert he slowly walked across the main hall, studying every single detail of his surroundings. It was getting late and the sun began to set, probably already gone beyond the horizon by now. The guard’s footsteps echoed throughout the halls and grew unnerving as they loudened.

  Still I lay, hugging the ancient crossbow of dragon bones that I had discovered in the display case. The guard approached my display case, for he wasn’t dumb enough not to notice the missing lock. With a deep frown he bent over to look in, but instead of noticing a random girl all squished up in a box, he saw no more than a mere drifting crossbow. Yes, you heard me. A drifting crossbow.

  It was some sort of an ability I had that I had completely forgotten about. I remembered it the moment I saw his blank eyes staring down at me, eyes trying to make sense of the random floaty thingy above the case’s puffy purple-red padding. The reflection of his eyes showed only the crossbow.

  As described by my former master, Murray, I had a tendency to turn invisible in stressful situations, like when I hid in the straw from Thomason a long time ago.

  Okay, fine. Partially hidden.

  Before the night guard could call an expert, there was a creak behind him. His eyes glinted with fear. He slowly turned around with trembling hands. I lifted my head closer to the glass lid to try and see what was happening.

  The sarcophagus slowly opened, releasing a fowl and deathly stench. Dust flew into the museum air, carrying the whisper of the long dead in an ancient language that none of us could make sense of.

  It was an open secret that the guard’s heart might have stopped that very moment. Four old fingers were wrapped around the sarcophagus’ lid. From within the gloom of the tomb there was the deadly glow of two pale eyes, shining with a pale green fire.

  The guard dropped his keys, now seven shades whiter than before.

  As the lid opened, an ancient mummy, partially wrapped in aged cloth, pounced on the man and fell to the ground, pinning the night guard to the ground. The mummy moaned as it lay still on the man.

  Its skin was rotten and flaked, its teeth crooked like widely spaced tombstones. The guard, after a moment of intensive gaping, gave a scream and pushed the mummy off his person, jumping to his feet and dashing off into the opposite direction.

  The four old fingers pushed the lid further open, revealing it to be Nick that had thought that the guard was already gone, but thanks to him, now he really was. It appeared that the mummy only fell out from his tomb, but my hairs still stood on end by the fact that this guy wasn’t as completely dead as he was supposed to be.

  Nick emerged with eyes following the running guard, until finally redirecting his gaze to the mummy.

  “Nic nic nic, nic?” the hermit asked the mummy, almost as though asking the thing if it was still okay.

  “Uuuuuuuh,” the mummy replied, cheeks still pressed flat on the tiles.

  “Nic!” Nick said with glee.

  It was touching and all, but we really had to get out of there. That guard would be back with reinforcements, just you wait. It was a fate I could promise.

  I pushed the lid to get out, but it wouldn’t budge. Shortly I realized that the latches must’ve fallen close the moment I closed it. My eyes widened and my heart pounded against my ribcage. There was no way out. I was trapped. The whole experience seemed to evoke my one true fear and brought me to realization…

  I’M CLASTROPHOBIC!

  “NICK!” I yelled as I continuously punched and kicked at the glass. Just keep in mind that the space was small. My movements and force was restricted.

  “Nick, get me out of here!” I yelled as Nick approached the display case with a curious glare. He studied the display case to try and find a way to get me out, but his hermit mind restricted his intelligence. By the way, I am not stereotyping. Think about it, my rescue comes from a guy who can say nothing else but ‘nic’!

  “The latches, Nick! Flip them open before I burst out of here myself or the guard comes back with his tea party club members!”

  Nick finally found the two latches and tried to flick them open, one by one… with his tongue.

  I bit my frustration in between my teeth. This was the absolute perfect time to give in to idiocy!

  Nick succeeded in lifting the one latch. I kicked the end of the lid to keep it up and to prevent it from falling shut again. With a few tries, Nick succeeded with the last one, but of course by both latches released and my boot still kicking up, the display case’s glass lid shot open most abruptly, which gave Nick quite the fright.

  “NIC!” Nick cried as he jumped back, running around in circles, panic still at mind.

  He ran around like a wild headless horseman until finally bumping into a totem that sent him falling flat on his bottom, but that was hardly the end of it. There was a large heavy iron ball on top you see. The sudden shake set it in motion and down it fell, collapsing onto the hermit’s head and rolling off into another unexplained direction.

  I climbed out of the case leg-by-leg until I was finally able to stand once again, somewhat relieved. I looked at the crossbow and smiled.

  “Eh, I’m sure they won’t miss this,” I said to myself as I equipped it to my back. It was one badass looking dragon bone crossbow that I intended to keep for further exertions.

  I’m not going to lie. This I was stealing, but hey, I had my reasons. I was saving the world for Pete’s sake! Give me some slack, I probably deserve this.

  Nick had his own problems to deal with. He had fallen unconscious under the heavy weight of the large iron ball that had crashed onto his old noggin. I was quick to kneel down by his side, lucky to still be able to feel his pulse. With a sigh of relief I looked up at the rope that had recently fallen down for us again and for a moment I stood there and cursed the extra labour of carrying Nick up there myself.

  I turned to the ball and, with much effort, picked it up and put it in the display case as a quick replacement. It did quite a number on me and my burnt hand, but it was somewhat worth it to buy some time and keep this awesome looking crossbow.

  Terrowin helped us both onto the roof. With his help I didn’t have to place much work on my seared hand, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Terrowin was quick to take a look into the matter as he grabbed my hand after I tried to hide the burns.

  He looked concerned.

  “What the hell did you do? These burns are severe!”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just leave it be and focus on the plan before reinforcements show up.”

  “No, Carlaylin. This is a matter best left attended to immediately.”

  “Terrowin…” I sighed. I sounded like a little girl complaining to her mother, but beside the fact, Terrowin ripped off a piece of his clothing and bound it firmly around my hand. I really didn’t want him to help me, but neither could I stop him. He seemed so eager to help. After the makeshift bandage was well bound around my burns, it felt less likely to get hurt easily. I rubbed my hand after he finished and shyly thanked him, not exactly wanting to meet his eyes, for I felt a little guilty for pushing him off like that. At least Terrowin giving me a bright smile and patting me on the back before turning back to Nick cleared up the moment. I couldn’t help but grin slightly.

  We carried Nick down the roof and rested him on the patch of not-so-green land after I dropped the earthen stairs back into the ground with my magic, the pain of using magic with both my hands was numbed out by the bandage.

  We both knelt down next to Nick. I tried shaking him to try and wake him because, to be frank, I wasn’t going to carry him all the way to the crossroads.

  “We need water,” I said. Terrowin nodded and jumped to his feet. To be honest, the drama of the unconscious Nick had completely made me forget about the idea that I also qualify as a water mage. Oh well, it doesn’t matter, for the way I saw Terrowin getting water was much too priceless t
o miss.

  He hurried to a nearby sidewalk out in the open. He was quick enough not to be spotted by any unwanted eyes. Since it had rained a few hours earlier, the road was still awfully wet and pools of water gathered about near the sidewalks.

  Terrowin grabbed a bucket from the local bucket shop when the merchant wasn’t looking and positioned himself next to one of the pools of street water. Taking a deep breath he pushed out his chest and held the bucket close to him as a carriage rode right past him, its wheels splashing through the pool with speed. A tsunami of street water washed over him and filled the bucket. He then came rushing back handing me the bucket. Inside I was laughing my lungs out.

  Wet strands of hair slumped over his face and the poor guy was rather soaked. No matter, I better make his efforts worthwhile. I emptied the bucket of ice-cold street water on Nick’s face. He awoke almost instantly, gasping and quite startled. He rubbed his head where the great iron ball had hit him.

  “Oh, my throbbing head. What the hell has happened?” Nick said, eyes still casted to the ground.

  Terrowin and I exchanged glances with equally wide gapes as we heard his words. Words, formal words and not the mere expression of ‘nic’.

  “Nick? You can t-talk?”

  “Nick? O dear me, no! Nicolas Herman Matthews at your service. Now, I cannot remember much, but your faces I do. You rescued me from the life of an anchorite and brought me along your strange journeys. And not ashamed to say, I am most certainly grateful. Might I know your names, for my memory is rather blank during some happenings?”