by Ramy Vance
Suzuki met José’s eyes from across the space between their hiding places. Fuck it, Suzuki thought. “What the hell are we going to do?” Suzuki shouted to José.
José peeked out from behind the rock before answering Suzuki. “We don’t have an exit,” he explained. “If we try to get out the way we came in, we’re just in a fucking kill zone.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
“I’m trying to think up a fucking answer. You got anything?”
Stew interrupted the conversation. “I say we rush the bastard,” Stew shouted. “If we can’t run, we might as well fight.”
“You’re saying that we should at least die on our feet?” José asked.
“Hell no, I’m not saying anything about dying. I say we take the dragon.”
José pursed his lips. “Have you ever fought a dragon?”
“No, have you?”
“Once.”
“And?”
“Surprisingly, they’re even tougher than they look.”
“Sandy, what do you think?” Stew asked.
Sandy was staring down at her trembling hands. When she looked up, it was fear that had taken over her face. Fear and determination. “I say we go for it.”
Suzuki knew it was a terrible idea.
He had never seen a dragon, but he knew the stories. Fantasy novels and video games had dulled the viciousness and power of dragons. Suzuki had never been a fan of dragons in those genres. They were usually nothing more than vindictive creatures sleeping on a pile of gold. And if there was anything that Suzuki had figured out by now, it was that popular culture only held a fraction of what was really out there, only a kernel of truth. From the moment that Suzuki had seen Ashegoreth, he had known that the dragon was something vaster than what people read about in books.
In myths, dragons were nearly godlike forces of destruction. That wasn’t all they were, though. Intelligence and wisdom were just as much a part of the stories. And Suzuki had seen intelligence on the dragon’s face, he had heard it in her voice.
Without a word, Suzuki stepped out from behind the rock, straight into the path of the dragon.
Stew reached out for Suzuki, but Suzuki slapped his hand away, turning for just a second, to say, “You guys wait here. If she torches me, make sure you raise some hell.”
“Wait.”
Suzuki paused.
He felt oddly serene. Out from behind the rock, he could have easily been burned alive. Yet he felt deeply that the dragon would not attack him if he wasn’t facing her.
It was José who had asked for Suzuki’s attention. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked.
Suzuki shrugged. He really didn’t. “I’ve never fought a dragon before,” he admitted.
“And you want to go in there alone?”
“You old MERCs like respect. Maybe that holds up for ancients as well.”
Suzuki walked toward Ashegoreth as billows of black smoke floated out of the dragon’s nostrils. The dragon leaned forward, baring fangs as large as Suzuki, heat radiating at an almost nuclear level from its mouth. Suzuki raised his ax as if he were going to throw it from afar. Then he tossed it to the ground. He stripped off his chest armor and let it fall beside the ax. He continued to approach Ashegoreth.
A laugh deep as thunder rolled through the cavern. Ashegoreth had leaned back and was chuckling. Although looking more relaxed, she was dangerous still, but not ready to leap forward and take off Suzuki’s head.
“Who approaches my throne, child of dust?” Ashegoreth asked.
Suzuki racked his brain for an answer. Somehow, Suzuki didn’t sound nearly regal enough. Not that he thought he had any reason to lay claim to royalty, but he knew this was probably going to be the most important introduction of his life.
“I am called…er…the Most Mundane of the Mundane, uh…the Creeping Unexpected, the Tired Tactician, the Bane of Krampus, and Freer of Fae Children. Uh…the Forlorn Lover, the Rising Sun to Vampires. I am Suzuki, the Guillotine of Old Gods.”
A twinkle of interest danced in Ashegoreth eyes. It was almost a human glint. Suzuki recognized it.
Curiosity.
“Those are many titles, child of dust,” Ashegoreth growled. “How has one so young to this life managed to acquire such titles of luster and pomp?”
“I am no child of dust. I am Suzuki, the Guillotine of Old Gods.”
“And what, may I ask, Old God has felt the sting of your blade?”
Suzuki continued to slowly walk toward Ashegoreth. He felt like he was walking into an open fire. “Less than a week ago, I descended into the depths of a village of death. Vampires were trying to bring an elder god to life to serve the Dark One. My fellow warriors and I—”
“The same warriors who huddle behind rocks, trembling with fear?”
“The same warriors who trust me to speak with you. Who are fearless. Who will rise up to smite you in vengeance if you so much as singe a hair on my head.”
“Hmm…continue your tale, Bane of Krampus.”
Suzuki almost wanted to scream with joy. The dragon had used one of the titles. That had to be some kind of trust or respect.
Then again, it could just be a dragon playing with her food.
Suzuki knew he had to make this stick. He had to own his own accomplishments. “We descended into the bowels of the church,” he shouted, letting his voice echo through the cavern. “I stood before the viceroy of the Dark One, and I let it be known that I would wring her master’s throat. We broke the ceiling of the church and let light spill through, and as the elder god birthed himself, I lay siege to his body with an army of gremouloons.”
The dragon leaned forward. Suzuki was now so close that he could reach out and touch the dragon’s curled smile. A chuckle bubbled up from Ashegoreth, and it rolled through Suzuki like an earthquake. “Gremouloons? Those little things? You killed a god with a vermin infestation.”
“I am the Most Mundane of Mundanes. The Creeping Unexpected.”
“There were many tales on the sky of a god killed by gremouloons in a house of vampires. And you think that this will make you any less appetizing to me?”
“I bear no ill will. None. We found ourselves accidentally in your nest. From one warrior to another, I offer you a gift of good tidings. A treasure to add to your hoard.”
Ashegoreth’s eyes widened and then quickly narrowed. It reminded Suzuki of a snake he used to have. It was the look of a hunter recognizing prey. “What is this treasure?”
Suzuki reached under his chainmail and pulled out a ring that hung from his neck by a silver chain. “A gift from my beloved. She wears the same ring. She has been captured by the Dark One, and I am on a quest to rescue her.”
“Your beloved? Not your lover?”
“Er…uh…well, you see…um…not yet…or… I mean, I think that she likes me, but we’ve never… It’s kind of complicated, I guess. So not my lover. My beloved.”
Ashegoreth reached down and plucked the tiny ring from Suzuki’s hand. “It is small. Lacking gold or silver. Yet it is sad and strong. There is love in this ring…it is acceptable. You may dine with me this evening. You and your friends.”
Suzuki blinked. Twice. “And…uh, you’re not going to kill us?”
“An enemy of the Dark One is a friend to me and my kind. Come. Join me on my gold.”
Suzuki turned his back to the dragon and breathed a huge sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized it, but he had been holding his breath through nearly the entire conversation. His lungs flooded with well-needed air. He walked back to the Mundanes and the Horsemen.
José smiled widely at Suzuki as he walked by and clapped him on the shoulder.
“That’s something I’ve never seen,” José exclaimed. “A new recruit sweet-talking a dragon. That’s going to make for quite the story.”
The rest of the adventurers came out from hiding. Everyone looked very pleased with Suzuki. Everyone except for Stew, who came up to his side, shaking his head.
“So…you did just tell a dragon that you and Beth are just friends, right?” he asked.
“Seriously, dude? Is that all you got from that?”
“Nope. Had GB record your little speech for Beth too.”
Suzuki blushed. “You are such a shit.”
Sandy came up behind Stew and shoved him playfully. “Yeah, seriously, fuck off, Stew,” Sandy interrupted. “That was fucking awesome, Suzuki. Remember what I said about trash-talking? I take it all back. Where the fuck did you learn to talk like that? You sounded like you walked out of a movie or something.”
“Norse myths. I always liked the naming of gods.”
“Well, you sounded godlike. The Most Mundane of Mundanes…the Creeping Unexpected…that was pretty sick. I’m gonna remember that. Kinda makes me want to name myself.”
“Honestly, it felt great.”
The adventurers tentatively approached the dragon’s gold hoard. All but Suzuki. He walked with a confidence that he did not know was possible. Less than a year ago, he had been grinding level after level just to fight VR dragon babies. Today, he’d introduced himself to an ancient dragon and commanded her respect. Beth wasn’t going to recognize him when they finally saw each other again.
4
It was a dinner that Suzuki could have never imagined himself having. The Mundanes and the Horsemen were nestled comfortably in the nearly hill-sized mound of the dragon’s gold.
The dragon Ashegoreth had rustled up gold plates and cups for the adventurers to drink out of. At the moment, Ashegoreth was out hunting. She had promised that she would return before sunset with enough food for them all. No one was in a position to offer help.
Suzuki knew better than to do so anyway. The hospitality and pride of dragons were written all throughout myths and fantasy stories.
No one knew quite what to do until Ashegoreth returned. The cavern was lacking in what could have been considered entertainment. There was only rock and treasure. Ashegoreth had told them before leaving to make themselves at home. That meant exploring the treasure mound to their heart’s content.
“It is what any dragon would offer to another,” Ashegoreth had said. “Obviously, if I find anything missing, I will burn you to a crisp.” She had laughed heartily at what could only be interpreted as dragon humor. With that laughter, she had spread her wings and taken off into the afternoon skies.
So now the adventurers sat on the enormous treasure, trying to figure out just how one sits on a pile of gold. Curiosity eventually got the best of Stew. After the first ten minutes of waiting had passed, Stew stood up, sloshing around in gold coins, and dove into the pile. He pretended to swim through the gold until he yelped loudly. A golden sword had poked him in the stomach. “What the fuck else is in here,” Stew asked as he stood and kicked at the sword.
They spent the better part of half an hour looking to see if they could find out just what else actually was in the pile. The dragon’s treasures covered the basics such as coins, swords, and cups. Nearly all of it was gold, and whatever wasn’t was made of silver. Not a piece of copper in sight. But the treasure didn’t stop with those three things. With a little bit of searching, Suzuki was able to find a map that twinkled in the light shining in through the break in the roof. The map was of Middang3ard. Each region was written in exquisite purple ink that shimmered as you moved the map.
If you looked closely at the map, you could see a small figure of yourself, staring back up at you. Suzuki dropped the map in surprise and it disappeared into the hoard.
Across the pile, Sandy held up a long spear. The end of it was bejeweled with diamonds and rubies. The hilt was engraved with a language that Suzuki had never seen before. “Hey, Diana,” Sandy shouted, “Check it out. I think it’s elvish.”
Diana came up to Sandy’s side and took the spear out of her hand. “No, darling,” Sandy explained, “this is actually old elvish. This was before humans came to Middang3ard. Maybe before the races were even communicating with each other. To think, this spear could be older than any of our family lineages—and it serves as a bed to a dragon.”
Suzuki sat back down and picked up a handful of gold coins. “When you put it like that, it sounds almost trivial,” he said.
“Depends on how you’re looking at it.”
“How else is there to look at it?”
“The elves think of dragons as historians. Well, even that isn’t quite right. There isn’t a close human word for the idea. The elves would explain it like this, though. History is always moving forward. The past is a constant but the present may never see it and, when it does, rarely understands. A dragon is a chronicler of history. This hoard stores more tales than elvish wine could ever dream of telling. And no doubt Ashegoreth knows where each coin has come from. That is what a dragon is to a realm. They are the oldest keepers of stories and knowledge. They are ancient in the truest sense of the word.”
Suzuki had never thought of dragons in that way before. Whenever he had encountered them in pop media, dragons were usually a source of antagonism. A dragon was most often a creature outside the morality of mortals, a force of nature to be reckoned with because of its destructive nature. He had never thought of a dragon as a serpentine historian.
“We are more than keepers of stories and knowledge.”
Ashegoreth’s voice boomed through the cavern as she descended upon her hoard. Suzuki had no idea how he had not heard or felt her flying above. Perhaps all the noise and heat that he had felt earlier was just for show. Maybe Ashegoreth had the ability to be as stealthy as she wanted to be.
Each of Ashegoreth’s front claws held a dead lamb. She tossed them onto the cavern floor.
“We are history,” she said. “When worlds are formed, dragons are born in their stomach. We grow and mature along with the molten lava and rocks. Flames are our wet nurses, and we are birthed before the first mortals. We watch the world take its form and wait for life to squeeze itself out. We are stewards of our realms.”
Suzuki could feel Fred bristling at Ashegoreth’s words. Dragon hubris, Fred sneered. They claim to be the first of the first, but that isn’t true. They are not eldritch dragons. There are those who are even older.
Even though it felt foolish, Suzuki raised his hand as if he were in school. “Excuse me, but what about eldritch dragons?”
Ashegoreth turned a curious eye on Suzuki. “Ah, a student of my race,” Ashegoreth said kindly. “Yes, there are those who are eldritch, a few of my kind. They were the first dragons, creatures of gray at a time before there was time. They watched a cosmos devoid of change. They are relics of a time gone past, although a few of them have woken in some time. Now, how do dustlings enjoy their lamb? Also, feel free to invite your familiars to dine with us.”
Suzuki turned his thoughts inward so that they were directed at Fred. You want to come out for a bite? he asked.
I would prefer not. I do not like the way dragons smell.
Suit yourself.
José stood in front of one of the freshly-killed lambs as Sandy and Stew walked up behind him, holding hands. “Usually butchered,” José offered. “Our stomachs are not as…apt at swallowing bones. We’ll take care of it. Mundanes, I assume you’re just as useful carving up animals as orcs.”
Stew pulled out his sword. He was looking at José the way that someone looks at a Rockstar. Even though he had been giving Suzuki shit about fanboying, Suzuki could see that Stew was just as blown away by José as he was.
“We’ll take care of it,” Stew offered. “Two lambs a party sound fair enough?”
“When is life ever fair?”
“Right now. Eat what you kill, right? Or are ol’ man José’s bones too decrepit to bend over?”
José lifted one of the lambs over his shoulder and headed back to where Diana and Chip were sitting. “Fuck off, newbie.” He chuckled. “These bones ain’t that old.”
The Mundanes set to the task. They stripped the lamb of its coat, Stew and Suzuki working together on the l
arger of the lambs, cutting the wool from the skin, tossing it into a small fire that Ashegoreth had made. Sandy worked on the other lamb, waving her wand to levitate the lamb and remove its skin. Then came the butchering, removing the entrails, and quartering the innocent creature into manageable chunks.
Ashegoreth suppled the adventurers with golden spits to roast the lamb on. A few feet away, the Horsemen were just finishing butchering their lambs by the time the Mundanes had already started roasting theirs. “Been a little while since you got your hands dirty,” Stew joked.
Neither José nor Diana said anything. Chip tossed a lamb heart at Stew, who managed to duck out of the way so that the heart hit Sandy in the face. She didn’t say anything as she wiped the blood off her cheek and took a bite from the heart. “It’s full of nutrients,” she exclaimed when she saw Stew and Suzuki’s horrified faces.
Once both lambs were roasting on the spits, the two parties gathered together as a few of the familiars separated from their hosts. Stew’s familiar, GB, a bizarre amalgamation of a creature with an ass’s head and a gargoyle’s body joined first. Then came Niv, Sandy’s familiar, a large rabbit with a unicorn horn and a nose that never stopped sniffing. José’s familiar also joined, a dainty lamb named Nines, who eyed the roasting lambs with fear.
Ashegoreth blew fire onto the roasting lambs and the flames danced. Then she leaned back and scratched her scaly belly as she dangled a raw lamb over her jaws, sensuously licking its head.
Suzuki cleared his throat to break the awkward silence of watching a dragon tongue its dinner. “So…how long have you been in these caves?” Suzuki asked.
Ashegoreth dropped the lamb into her mouth and swallowed it whole as Nines watched in horror and trembled behind José. “Months,” Ashegoreth stated. “At least four moons, but I am not completely certain. I stopped counting once this began to feel like a prison.”
