The Curse of the Dragon's Tail Commet

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.” King Rain angrily growled to the assembled kings of both men and elves while the three Darient chieftains-also known as demons-watched the proceedings with disinterest. They were the only Darients able to cooperate long enough to sit through the assembly. Thick makeup-like plaster covered their bodies to accommodate the human and elven races and put them at ease. However, it did little to help. The thickly layered masks made them appear human from a distance except for their unnatural orange eyes that seemed to smolder like embers. Their grotesque features, mostly hidden by the plaster, turned the stomachs of even the most seasoned warriors. Up close, it looked like dead, peeling flesh.

"Thirteen years ago, dragons were nothing more than myth; stories told by beast slayers to entertain children." Alistair, supreme leader of the elves, spoke with a calm, even voice as he continued, "And now they reign in the sky and burn villages to the ground overnight, and we are powerless to stop them." His loose pale white hair fell forward as he spoke, framing his delicate features. His violet eyes darkened as he looked at the prisoner chained to the wooden beam in the middle of the council room and, with an accusing tone, said, “They appeared three days after your arrival in the Valley. Who are you and what evil have you brought to us?”

The prisoner stood as unmoving as the mountains, his black hair shining in the light spilling through the skylight above. His blue eyes, as hard as glacial ice, pierced Alistair while his face remained stoic. The stranger looked every bit a warrior and rumor had it that it took the combined strength of fourteen elves to capture him.

From his vantage point, Zaden took it all in. The tiered amphitheater seating gave him the best view in the building from the lowest point nearest the door. The stranger unnerved him like nothing else ever had. As the grandson of the most famous beast slayer and perhaps the last of the slayer bloodlines, there was little that put him on edge. Since the attack three years ago that left his farm and family reduced to ash, Zaden hadn’t feared even the dragons. Of course, after surviving a direct hit from dragon fire that left him covered in burn scars, the middle and ring finger on his right hand fused together, his left hand permanently closed in a fist and took his left leg below the knee, there was little left to fear. Now he limped around on a prosthetic made of scrap wood and rusty metal while relying on the charity of friends to survive. His life was anything but fulfilling since that fateful encounter.

The smacking lips of the Darient chief, Kadra-el, drew the room's attention as he loudly chewed on a piece of black root. He took hold of a golden chalice covered in gemstones, worth more than the fortunes of the kings of men combined, and spit black goo into it before speaking, "Perhaps-" as he spoke, his makeup cracked and flaked off in large chunks-"we should open the gates of Sheol and unleash the Darient armies upon the world.” He paused to chew the root again, flashing his serrated teeth before spitting into the chalice once more. On either side of him, the other Darient chieftains flicked annoyed glances his way.

Before he could continue his tirade, one of the elven kings stood, smashing his palms on the stone table before him as he shouted, “You insolent cur! We want the dragons defeated and the people liberated, not decimated and enslaved to you bottom-feeding scum!"

Kadra-el stood. His chair flew back against the wall and shattered into a thousand shards as his red-orange eyes narrowed, cracking his plastered face further. His voice was a guttural hiss as he responded, "Little mortal, how dare you speak to me, Kadra-el the decimator of men, as if I were a common pig amongst your fold!” With every word he spoke, black goo oozed down his chin and dripped onto the table, where it hissed as it ate through the stone.

The Darients beside Kadra-el stood ready to fight at their ally's side. Their mutual hostility brought Alistair to his feet to defuse the situation as the room erupted into complete chaos. Accusations flew through the air as tempers rose, yet the prisoner stood unmoving, watching as everyone except Zaden fell prey to the turmoil.

Sudden, unexpected laughter boomed through the room. As it grew in volume, the arguments ceased and every eye turned to the stranger in their midst. His head flung back in unrestrained laughter as large, metallic red fangs descended from his gums over his eyeteeth and flashed in the sunlight.

Zaden’s hair stood on end as the room filled with power and electricity spider-webbed through the air in visible flashes. The sight of the purple and blue arcs caused the elves to flinch back from the unknown magic. It brought the Darient chieftain, So-el, to attention as fear slithered through his smoldering orange eyes. His companions took a defensive stance while reaching behind them with one hand in the event they needed to rip open a portal to Sheol in retreat. When the laughter finally stopped, he brought up his hands, the chains dissolved into dust as he moved, and wiped the tears from his face. With one gentle push of his hand, he broke the post that had held him captive just moments before.

"You argue with one another like petulant children." His voice was soft but commanded attention. He looked around the room, daring someone to challenge him, but when no one spoke up, he continued, "You fight amongst yourselves while your enemy burns your world to ash." He shook his head and turned towards Zaden before speaking up once more, “Zaden, grandson of Benjamin, the mighty slayer of beasts, I will speak to you, and you alone. I will give to you the key of dragon slaying."

The moment he finished speaking, So-el teleported to his side. He bowed to the ground and said, "I know who you are, Star of Benjamin, and when the war begins, I pledge to you my sword and my armies."

The stranger’s face softened as he reached out with two fingers and barely touched So-el’s forehead, acknowledging the chieftain’s pledge. So-el looked up, the left side of his facial makeup breaking away, revealing scaly, peeling skin like the shed of a serpent and reddish-orange pus-filled sores. Affection filled the stranger's eyes as he brushed away the other half of the plastered mask and cupped the demon's face. They stared one another down for a long moment before he released So-el, dismissing him with a slight nod, then he turned and strutted out of the council room.

As So-el retook his seat, every eye turned to Zaden and, with a sigh, he grabbed his staff. It took three attempts to stand before he limped his way outside. The mysterious stranger was nowhere in sight when he emerged into the bright afternoon light. After a brief search turned up empty, Zaden gave up and began the five-mile walk home.

By the time Zaden reached home, the sky was ablaze with fiery hues as the sun began its descent over the distant mountains. Defeat washed over him as he surveyed the land where four generations of his family once lived. Where six houses, three barns and a dozen corrals once stood, only scraggly weeds dared to grow in the scorched, barren dirt. His family farm once supplied most of the wheat crop to the Valley and raised the best horses in the kingdoms. Now, the blackened, burn-scarred land held a solitary, one-room shack hastily thrown together by some of Zaden’s closest friends after the elven healers released him from their care two years ago.

Zaden’s family had been one of the richest in the nine lands. They had once generously poured out their wealth to any in need who came to them. Now he had to beg for table scraps and pray that those he once helped were in a giving mood. If it wasn’t for the Darient warrior who delivered cured meats, cheeses, and dried fish once a month, he would have perished long ago. The demons were not known for being charitable but their warrior’s code prevented them from leaving a wounded warrior without provisions. Of course, they didn’t owe Zaden anything since he was human, but they considered him worthy of provision because he survived a dragon attack.

Before the attack, no one in his family would have allowed a Darient to live, let alone take charity from one. Zaden could hear his father chastising him for his foolishness. According to him, it was better to die than ally with a beast. Even now, the oppressive weight of his father’s judgmental stare still weighed on Zaden. It didn't matter to his father that he had defeated a Darient chief before the dragon's arrival. Nothing he did was good enough and he lived in his brother's shadow. If it hadn't been for Grandpa Ben believing in him and appointing him as the local beast slayer, his father would have forced him to be a horse tamer.

Disgusted with thoughts of the past, Zaden released a breath and ascended the two steps onto the small porch. It was a struggle up those two steps as he clung to the railing with his crippled hand while using his staff to make up for the prosthetic. Once inside, he ate the remaining bit of his stale, week-old bread, the last of the food in his house, and washed it down with stagnant water. Tomorrow he would have to trek half a mile to the untainted well and draw water for the coming week. The daunting task took nearly two days to complete as he had to carry the water two gallons at a time slung in bags over his shoulders.

As the last rays of light faded, he undressed, sat in a rickety chair and bathed using the last of the water in the house. His hand trembled as he ran the coarse wool rag over his scarred body and did his best not to flinch when he passed over the patches of unblemished skin. Depression threatened to drag him down as he reattached the prosthetic and limped to bed. As he sat there dreading removing his leg, he stared at the table made of pieces of his former house with its two chairs, one of which was still unused. Memories flooded through his mind of coming home to the shack a year after the dragon attack.

Anger and frustration speared through him and his gut twisted as he quickly looked away. His eyes landed on the sword leaning against the wall at the head of the bed. It was all he had left of his former life. A life of purpose. One filled with the hunt. Without the hunt, he was nothing more than a caged animal.

With a sigh, he removed the prosthetic and lay down. Physically, he was exhausted but his restless mind refused to be subdued. With the coming of night, there was nothing he could do to quiet his troubled thoughts. The three candles given to him by a friend of the family were nothing more than small nubs and he couldn’t risk burning them out just for the sake of a light to read by. Instead, he replayed the scene at the council over and over again. As the only being to survive dragon fire, it was expected of him to attend all local meetings about the ever-increasing dragon threat.

Star of Benjamin.

The thought slid through his mind bringing back memories of his grandfather. The old man loved to tell stories of using the power of a fallen star to defeat dragons in his youth when the Dragon’s Tail Comet last appeared in the sky. It came every fifty-three years and the old Dwarven lore attributed a curse to it that brought dragons to life. Until thirteen years ago, when the Dragon’s Tail Comet appeared again, everyone thought it a myth. Now that he thought about it in light of current events, Zaden couldn't help but believe its’ validity and his grandfather's stories. Days before the Dragon's Tail Comet appeared this time, a star crashed beyond the mountains.

The creaking of the old wooden porch snapped Zaden from his thoughts. Adrenaline flooded his system as he strained to hear signs of life and instinctually reached for his sword. As his fused fingers closed around the hilt, he remembered he could no longer effectively wield the weapon. With a sigh, he relaxed back into the bed and said, “If you’ve come to kill me, you might as well get it over with. There’s nothing here worth stealing.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the door opened on silent hinges and a cold wind rushed in. The lack of sound caused a chill to run down his spine. Zaden sat up, straining to see anything, moments before all three candles burst to life. He blinked back his surprise as his breath caught in his throat. The stranger stood beside the table, head cocked slightly to the side and arms folded over his chest. His icy eyes reflected the flickering flame as he smirked and asked, "Are you so eager for death, young beast slayer?"

"I do not fear death but it is not death that stands before me now. I do not know what kind of creature you are or where you are from but it is rude to enter someone's house without an invitation."

The stranger’s smile deepened, revealing his fangs, as he replied, “I am Daykó.” He looked around the shack before returning his gaze to Zaden and taking in his disfigured body. Compassion filled his face and his voice softened as he spoke, “And you invited me in to kill you, or have you forgotten?”

Zaden looked at the entity in front of him as he entertained the idea of taking up the stranger’s offer to end his life of misery. With a resolved sigh, he presented his neck to Daykó and closed his eyes. Within moments, strong hands gripped his shoulders and unfathomable pain shot through him as the stranger sank his fangs into his neck. A hellacious eternity passed as every cell in his body seemed to both burn and freeze simultaneously.

Strength like he'd never known before filled him as the pain ceased and he shoved the brute off him. Instinctively, he snatched up his sword and lunged to his feet, taking three steps before realizing that he was walking with two legs. Two legs. Not one and a fake. Two real, flesh and bone legs.

Zaden stood, frozen in shock for a long moment, before glancing down at his hands gripping the familiar sword hilt. Emotion overwhelmed him at the sight of unblemished skin and he suddenly wished he had a mirror in the shack to see if the miracle healed his entire body. After three years, he’d forgotten what he looked like before the attack. He remembered sandy blond hair and a matching beard streaked through with red.

“Who are you?” Zaden’s question sounded more like an accusation. His years of training to become a beast slayer told him that there was no magic capable of healing something that an elf could not restore. But here he stood, made whole by an unknown magical creature.

“I am a friend of Benjamin’s.” Daykó replied as he eyed the blade between them.

“I don’t understand.”

Daykó took a few steps back, pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down. It protested his weight but didn’t break. He toyed with a thick band around his neck that had elven and Darient writing on it and looked like metal and glass fused together before saying, "I came to hunt dragons, young beast slayer, but when my ship crashed, I lost precious time to find the breeding pair before they nested. Your grandfather was supposed to meet me in the Valley but he never arrived, so I came looking for him. Unfortunately, the dragons also sought him and I was too late. . ." he trailed off, staring out the window for a long moment, "I was unable to find you amongst the elves and resumed my search for the nest until a few days ago when I learned from an elf that you still lived.”

"The nearest harbor is seven days journey from here. I fail to see how your ship crashing has anything to do with the dragons nesting."

Something flickered deep in Daykó’s eyes and he looked at him like an adult debating how to explain a complex matter to a child. With a sigh, he replied, “There are things beyond the comprehension of mortals.”

“And what do you want with me?” Zaden asked as he finally lowered the sword. If the creature wanted to harm him, he would have done it already. He was smart enough to know that he wouldn’t stand a chance in a fight against the entity before him.

Daykó locked eyes with him and boldly declared, "To teach you how to slaughter dragons, my boy." He walked to the open door, scanning the horizon before looking over his shoulder and adding, “The dragons will be here soon. Meet me at the fountain at midday. I just might have time to teach you a thing or two before they arrive but I fear your training will have to wait.” And with that, he vanished into the night, leaving Zaden sitting utterly alone in the dwindling light of the dying flames.