by Sam Ferguson
Behind each cart was a man calling out the wares he had for sale. Some had traps, others had spices from other cities, some had cloth and leather, and a few had wine and spirits for sale.
As the group passed by a man with a stack of books on his cart, Tatev started to peel off from the group but Lepkin quickly grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.
“I think you have enough books for now, Tatev,” Lepkin said.
Tatev sighed and glanced back to the books a few times before finally falling back into lockstep with the group. Lepkin suddenly directed them all down a flat road on the left and they walked past several larger houses with neatly manicured gardens of red and white roses, vivid violets, yellow, red, and orange tulips, and vivid red carnations. Some of them even had bougainvillea climbing along wrought iron fences.
Lepkin stopped abruptly and pointed to a large, brown brick home with green wooden shutters flanking each of the tall, slender windows. A huge, lazy dog lifted its head from off its forelegs as it surveyed them from the front porch, but it didn’t bark. Lepkin reached over the waist-high gate and pulled the latch to open it. “This is it,” he said.
The large, mahogany double doors opened just then and the large dog craned its head around to see its master. Erik watched as a tall, wide-shouldered man with white hair and a thick, bushy gray and brown beard stepped out onto the porch. His boots were black and polished, his trousers made of burgundy silk, drawn together with a thick leather belt held in place by a large, gold buckle in the shape of a shield. A fine black silk vest fastened with pearl buttons covered the pale yellow shirt beneath, except for the pointed collar and the mid-length sleeves. The man walked forward with a limp, leaning upon a thick, black cane topped with a simple brass handle.
“It can’t be,” Tatev whispered to no one in particular.
“Master Lepkin, an honor to see you down here in these parts,” the man said. His cane clicked against the wooden porch with each step forward until the man stood at the top of the stairs. The old dog slowly struggled to its feet, and it was then that Erik could see just how large the beast actually was. Its head came half way up the man’s torso, and its shoulders stood well over the man’s waist. It appeared that if the dog were to stand on its hind legs, it might very well be a foot taller than the man. It slowly wagged its tail as it gently leaned into its master’s side.
“Master Tillamon, the honor is all mine,” Lepkin replied with a great smile and a deep bow.
“So this is him?” Tillamon asked as he pointed his chin out, indicating Erik.
Lepkin nodded. “We are hunting the dragon,” Lepkin replied.
Tillamon reached up with his left hand and stroked his beard. “Well, you have come to the right place.” Tillamon lifted his cane and pointed in a southerly direction. “I saw the creature fly through here not so long ago. No doubt it was headed for Demaverung.”
“I thought we might spend a couple days with you, and you could help Erik prepare.”
Erik looked quizzically to Lepkin for a moment and then back to Tillamon. The old man’s green eyes stared back, piercing into his soul for what seemed like an eternity. Any discomfort Erik had ever felt while Lepkin had locked eyes with him before seemed downright pleasant by comparison.
“I have a few spare beds,” Tillamon said after a while, breaking his gaze and facing the others. “What’s wrong with him?” Tillamon asked, pointing to Tatev. Erik turned to see the curly red head standing with his mouth agape as if he was looking at a pile of golden books dropped in front of him.
Marlin stepped up quickly and nudged Tatev sharply with his elbow.
Tatev snapped out of his daze and shook his head. His cheeks blushed and he fumbled for the words. “Sorry, it’s just that, I thought you were dead.”
Tillamon offered a gruff snort. “Not hardly.” He turned and started to walk back inside. “Come on in, Hunter here won’t bite. He’s too old to do anything other than maybe fall over himself and trip you up.”
The group moved through the garden space and on into the house. Erik stopped briefly to pet the humongous dog. It whirled around happily, wagging its thick tail in response. Unfortunately the dog was as clumsy with its tail as it was large, it whacked Erik right across the groin and doubled the boy over right there on the porch. Red-faced he looked up, hoping no one had seen the incident. To his dismay he saw Tillamon and Lepkin standing in the doorway looking down at him.
“Don’t worry,” Tillamon said. “It happens to the best of us… and to you.” The old man cracked a half smile and then turned into the house, shaking his head.
Erik pushed himself up and pushed the dog’s head away, careful to watch Hunter’s tail as he maneuvered past and into the house. He closed the door behind him and then stood in the entryway, looking up at a grand double staircase leading up to a large, open room underneath a cupola. To the left was a room filled with swords, pikes, spears, axes, and shields, all hung neatly upon well-made plaques. Each one had a small brass plate underneath with writing on it, presumably about the weapon. To the right was a room filled with bookshelves, maps, a bearskin rug, and a spinning globe sitting upon a brass axis. The others all went forward, into a wide hallway underneath the double staircase, but Erik went to the right. He had only seen one globe before in all of his life.
He reached out gently with his right hand and gave the globe a turn. He could see the continents drawn upon the face of the globe, with each of the seas mapped out and the oceans too. Great sea monsters and snakes were drawn in the waters, and beasts of all kinds were drawn upon the lands. He stopped when he found the Middle Kingdom. A golden dragon was drawn within its borders and only Roegudok Hall, Drakei Glazei, and Ten Forts were named on the map.
“It isn’t as accurate as it should be,” Tillamon called out from behind.
Erik spun around, nearly knocking the globe over in the process. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Tillamon raised a hand in the air and shook his head. “An inquisitive mind makes for a much better warrior,” he said simply. “That is what I told Lepkin, when I was training him.”
“You trained Master Lepkin?” Erik asked incredulously.
Tillamon nodded. “He was my best pupil.”
“I don’t remember hearing about you at Kuldiga Academy,” Erik said. “When were you there?”
Tillamon moved into the library and looked down at Erik. “Oh, I was not at Kuldiga Academy. I was the commander of Ten Forts. That is where I met Lepkin. That is also where I trained him.” Tillamon pointed down at the dots signifying Ten Forts on the globe. “It was a different time then,” he said. “Lepkin graduated from the Academy, that much is true. Then, he was transferred to Ten Forts as one of my officers. I saw something in him that I had never seen before. So I took him under my care and trained him up beyond what the Academy could ever have done for him.” Tillamon glanced over his shoulder. “I had no way of knowing that it would turn out the way it has, but he has done well for himself and for that I am happy.”
“What do you mean?” Erik asked.
Tillamon turned his head to the side and reached up to fold his ear forward, revealing a crescent shaped birthmark behind his ear. Erik gasped and Tillamon let his ear flip back into position.
“You are a Sahale?”
Tillamon nodded. “I am.” He moved to a wooden chair, picked an old tome off the seat and gently placed it on the side table nearby before turning and falling into the chair. “I am a rather old one at that,” he said. “During my command at Ten Forts, we fought orcs, goblins, and dragons. Well, some were dragons, others were those blasted nightwings, twisted by that cursed book Nagar and Tu’luh created.” Tillamon’s eyes grew hot and a sour frown crossed his face as he said their names. “I trained Lepkin for one purpose, and one purpose only, to slay every dragon he ever saw.”
The words slammed into Erik as forcefully as a punch to the gut. “Every dragon?” Erik repeated.
Tillamon nodded and t
urned his fierce, menacing eyes toward Erik. “Every single one.”
Erik stood silently, not knowing where the conversation was going. He fidgeted with his right fingers and bit the inside of his lower lip nervously.
“He was good at it too,” Tillamon said. “He was real good. He must have led fifty expeditions. He always came back with the prize. Sure, he lost some men along the way, but we were all soldiers, and we understood the risk.” He pointed his cane out toward the room full of weapons. “That room is dedicated to the fallen. The officers who died hunting dragons have their weapons hung here in reverence. Others have forgotten, but I have not.”
Why did Lepkin bring me here? Erik wondered.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Tillamon said with a nod. “But, I don’t hate dragons.”
“Then why kill all of them?” Erik asked.
“Because they are easier to slay as dragons, before Nagar’s magic warped them into those twisted nightwings.” Tillamon looked to the floor for a moment.
Lepkin appeared at the room’s entrance then and leaned against the wall. “Go ahead, tell him,” he told Tillamon. The white-haired man looked up to Lepkin for a moment silently. “He performs better if he understands people’s motives.” Lepkin explained.
Tillamon nodded. “My father was a Sahale as well,” he said. “Normally, our kind are not affected by the spell as long as we stay in our human form, but he chose to spend his days as a dragon. Ultimately, the book changed him. He became a nightwing.” Tillamon’s eyes welled up with tears and one rolled down his left cheek to disappear in his thick, bristly beard. He smacked his lips together and cleared his throat. “In his warped state he assaulted Ten Forts. It was my blade that ended his savagery.” Tillamon tapped his cane on the floor and glared sourly off into the distance. “I vowed that day that all dragons must die. Letting even one of them live to be twisted like my father was seemed cruel and callous. So we killed as many as we could find.”
Lepkin stepped into the room and cut into the conversation. “I spent a lot of time there, at Ten Forts,” he said. “However, once we had put down the dragons along the southern border, I was transferred to the east. I spent several years scouting for Tarthuns and ensuring our eastern border was secure.”
“The Tarthuns knew how many soldiers we had lost in the south, and they smelled blood,” Tillamon cut in. “I also spent a couple years in the east. I had a few encounters, but they were nothing like what we had seen at Ten Forts. Given my experience at Ten Forts, I was asked to guard Gelleirt Monastery,” Tillamon added. “The monks there were trying to uncover the location of some ancient texts; historical anthologies about the dragons.”
“Why not use the library at Valtuu Temple?” Erik asked.
Tillamon snorted. “Because the temple keeps only the books that put the Ancients in a good light, or at least that is what some of the nobles thought. So the monks at Gelleirt Monastery were looking for other books that might paint a more holistic picture of dragons, and how to defeat them once and for all.”
“The monks were also trying to uncover where the Ancients were going during their mass exodus when most of them fled the Middle Kingdom,” Lepkin put in. “You have to understand, we weren’t sure that Nagar’s Secret was limited by range, so we thought any living dragon would eventually turn into a nightwing, no matter how far they fled.”
“And a few of us were determined to hunt them all down,” Tillamon said. He sighed and wrinkled his nose. “Anyway, after some time I decided the monks weren’t going to figure anything out during my lifetime. So I retired. Lepkin was my replacement at Gelleirt Monastery. A few years later, the gods thought it might be funny to play a trick on me, and Lepkin was chosen as the next Keeper of Secrets.”
“I thought the monks at Gelleirt were in the same order as Marlin? And, if you had been hunting dragons, why would the dragons choose you to be the next Keeper?” Erik asked.
“Our hearts were in the right place, but our minds were not enlightened,” Lepkin said.
“Bah, I wouldn’t agree with that,” Tillamon said. “I still say the only good dragon is a dead dragon. They only bring destruction, and death.”
Lepkin folded his arms, but he didn’t bother staring down his old mentor. “I was shown a different path,” Lepkin said. “Beyond that, I was the best at what I did, and I was the most respected knight when it came to knowledge and experience with dragons and nightwings.” Lepkin stepped forward and placed his hands on Erik’s shoulders. “When I was told of the prophecies about a champion, the Champion of Truth, I knew that there was a better way to end Nagar’s curse upon the Middle Kingdom.”
Erik nodded. He understood. “But you brought me here so he can teach me more about killing Tu’luh.”
Lepkin nodded. “I have some preparations to make. I need to see to them personally, to make sure we are well enough equipped for what lies ahead.” He looked over to Tillamon and then back to Erik. “There is no one better in all of Terramyr than Tillamon when it comes to killing dragons. Listen to him and do everything he asks you to do. The things he teaches you might just save your life and give you the edge over Tu’luh.”
Erik nodded. “Alright,” he promised.
Lepkin drew in a deep breath and then turned to Tillamon. “Just start with the dragon’s vulnerabilities,” Lepkin said. “He has already gone through your DDC challenge.”
Tillamon raised an eyebrow in much the same manner as Lepkin often did and looked to Erik. “Lepkin threw daggers at you and made you either dodge, duck, or catch them?” he asked pointedly.
Erik’s eyes grew wide and he looked to Lepkin.
Lepkin shook his head. “I used rocks and sticks.”
“Bah,” Tillamon said with a wave of his hand. “Rocks and sticks don’t help develop the same kind of reflexes as daggers would, you know that. I used dagger when I trained you!”
Lepkin cocked his head to the side. “Erik is fourteen,” Lepkin said sternly.
Tillamon shrugged. “Well I guess two days isn’t really enough to get a benefit out of the daggers anyway,” he said. “I can show him what I know about the dragons though.”
Lepkin nodded. “I am going to go into town. Is Mercer still in command at Ten Forts?”
“No,” Tillamon said with a shake of his head. “Mercer was retired early after losing his leg in an accident. His lieutenant replaced him. A knight by the last name of Finorel, I believe. Don’t know much about him, other than the fact that he is from a noble house in Pinkt’Hu.”
“That’s a shame, I would rather have dealt with Mercer,” Lepkin said.
“Well, you can call on him if you like. He lives here in Stonebrook. He is in the little white house behind the general goods store.”
Lepkin nodded. “I will return as soon as I have gathered everything we need.” He started to turn and then stopped himself. “One more thing,” he said. “Tomorrow evening, can we use your garden?” Lepkin asked.
“For what?” Tillamon asked.
“Dimwater and I are looking to be wed before we leave Stonebrook. You would honor us by allowing us to use your garden.”
Tillamon smiled and his eyes seemed to soften. “Finally ready to do something for yourself for a change?” he asked. The old man struggled to his feet and stepped forward to pull Lepkin into an embrace. “You would honor me,” he said. “I will spare no expense. Tomorrow night, we shall have a feast to be remembered!” The two hugged for only a moment before Lepkin turned back toward the door and walked out of the house. As the door closed behind him, Tillamon turned and laid a hard, strong left hand on Erik’s shoulder. “You and I have some work to do.” He started limping to the wall and reached his left hand in over a bunch of books. Erik couldn’t see what he was grabbing, but something in the shelf clicked and that sound was followed by rattling chains and creaking gears.
A blast of dust shot out from behind the bookshelf. Tillamon coughed and waved the air in front of him away as he took a couple s
teps back. The bookshelf slowly swung out like a door, revealing a pathway in the wall behind.
“No matter how many times I clean this room, there is always a bunch of dirt that gets kicked up when I open this door,” Tillamon said. “Must be something to do with the draft down below.” He limped forward and gestured for Erik to follow. “Well, come on, don’t just stand there gawking at the old gimp.”
Erik quickly caught up and then realized that there was a metal staircase descending in a spiral. A series of large mirrors caught and reflected light from the library to illuminate the stairs until they reached the bottom. There, Tillamon pulled a large lever that triggered several more mirrors and crystals around them. As the light poured in, reflecting off the mirrors and crystals, Erik could see that they stood in a great chamber that was easily twice the size of the house above, and held up with a complex system of beams and columns.
“That’s amazing,” Erik commented as the light continued to flow into the area.
“It’s an old trick I learned from some of the elves during my time at Ten Forts. They used mirrors to harness the sunlight above and reduce our reliance on torches within the fort. It helped reduce a lot of costs since we didn’t need to procure torches and candles as much.”
“What about at night?” Erik asked.
“If the moon is out, it’s enough to see by. Besides, it helps keep your eyes sharp for the night.” Tillamon walked to a large wooden box mounted to the wall and opened it to reveal a series of levers inside. “Now stand right where you are for a moment and don’t move. Have to test the system.” Tillamon pulled hard on the first lever. An instant later a large log swung down from the ceiling, grazing the floor in the center of the room. Erik couldn’t get a good look because it was moving so fast, but he thought he saw painted eyes and teeth on the log to resemble a dragon’s head.
“What is that?” Erik asked.
“Shh!” Tillamon said. He pulled the next lever and another, equally large, log sailed by in a different direction from the first. This log swung much closer to the ceiling than the first, and had an opening in the front. “Good, that’s two,” Tillamon commented to himself. He then pulled the third lever. A multitude of loud, echoing clicks and clacks sounded and then wooden poles shot out of the floor, ceiling, and columns. Erik’s eyes went wide at the sight.
