Vermilion

There weren’t always dragons in the valley.

A small girl approaches from behind a lavender thicket, doe-eyed with long wavy flaxen hair falling by her side, she gives a warm half smile before she runs off into the rich of the lavender field. You reach your arm out, feeling compelled to chase after her, but your limbs are too heavy. In this instant the twilight sky awash with soft purples illuminated with bright yellows swirl into formidable dark clouds, and the lavender stalks stir with the fictitious breeze. Standing heavy, a sense of fear pervades, as a large shadow slowly inches above, and without forewarning the vermillion beast lets out a thunderous screech. The girl swings around with pleading eyes, as her hair gently dances through the air, but before you can move, the beast lunges.

***

“Get back here you filthy thieving rat!” yelled a silver armoured man, as a tawny young boy ducked and weaved through carriages, stalls, narrow cobble streets and unsuspecting town folk. Jeren fell onto his side as he slid underneath a carriage of turnips, before fleeing into the thick of the leafy wilderness which surrounded the city of Shargard. The armed man came to an instantaneous halt as they watched the boy disappear into the midst of the woodlands, for not even they would dare to venture into the notoriously enchanted forest. This of course worked in Jeren’s favour, he happily reflected as he threw his pouch down on his stash of acquired goods, and sat down on a protruding branch breaking bread with himself as he watched the sun set over Shargard. It wasn't the most ideal place to sleep, up in the shrubbery and thorns that is, but Jeren made it work. A leather tarp and rope, patchy cloths and cushions, and being away from all the riff-raff of Shargard made it liveable. Winter would be a worry thought Jeren as the chill of wintriness proliferated through the still air.

Jeren much preferred Shargard from a distance, especially at night. The flickering lights scattered across Shargard, infused scent of smoke in the wintry air, with the brightest lights heralding from the Velrick castle. Up close however, Shargard was nothing more than a foul-smelling tavern, with sewers running along the cobble streets, and drunkards and crooks alike dispersed throughout the soot laden city. In fact, if the Shargard law men were actually vigilant, they would’ve noticed a recent spike in crime, particularly theft, for Jeren no longer settled on bread and fruit to subdue his bellowing stomach, but instead spent his time attaining various items, large and small, to fill his pouch. For Jeren, as all good dragon tales must go, was on a quest!

With a sigh, Jeren focused in on the Velrick castle, it had now been a year since news had darkened the streets of Shargard, news that a dragon had swept down and seized Ilyr, the young princess of Shargard. There was nothing Lorethorn’s men could do, it all happened too fast, and although the King sent men far and wide in the desperate hope to retrieve his little daughter alive, it was futile. Accepting that his daughter was not of this realm anymore, he had made it his soul purpose to eradicate the world of these beasts, otherwise known as dragons. Sizeable rewards were bestowed upon those that returned dragon heads large or small to the Velrick doorstep, and unsurprisingly the dragon population dwindled and dwindled, till now, there was only one dragon left. In reality it was pointless chasing the very last dragon in existence, for it couldn’t very really reproduce with itself, but the King couldn’t see through his anguish and heartache, and put an extraordinarily sizeable reward on that dragon’s head.

This is where Jeren comes in, and although it wasn’t lost on him the grief of the circumstances that ultimately led to the extinction of such fantastic beasts, Jeren wasn’t about to sit idly and let this opportunity pass by without a try, he had nothing lose in any case. None of it really made sense to Jeren, and despite everything, he rather liked the domineering beasts of the Valley, he enjoyed reading about them from what little he could read, and he was always partial to a bard involving heroes and dragons. Anyway, the only dragons he saw causing grief were directed by humans themselves.

Jeren set out the very next day, buckled in his scabbard, threw his sac over his shoulder and set off northward into the depth of the foreboding forest toward the Valley of Shargard. He was determined to slay the dragon, in fact, he knew he could do it!

Jeren wasn’t a boy of any wielding power, nothing beyond a stick to a defenceless tree in any case, and there wasn’t a lot to say about his stature, there just wasn’t a lot of him. What he lacked in adipose however, he made up with courage, even if that courage was misdirected, and he chanced upon a law man’s sword, what more did he need? The staff of Solen Varlaros would help of course, a staff with unyielding power to subdue dragons forth to the tip of a blade, but Rulanz Lorethorn had that. You see although the king had placed a salivatory inducing reward on the last dragons head, he much preferred that one of his own slayed the dragon, so he didn’t have to part ways to such a fortune with just any given street bludger, instead he hired his second-hand man Rulanz Lorethorn and his men to slay the dragon, and entrusted Rulanz with the staff of Solen Varlaros. However, undeterred, every man and their sword still set upon the valley with a gulp in their throat, but dowry in their eyes.

Jeren made haste in the forest, for with every crunch of twigs under Jeren’s feet sunk in the realisation that he should’ve known better than to venture into the forest to get to the Valley of Shargard, it was faster than following the path around, but it was notorious for unforeseen shadow creatures. Elders and the superstitious alike told tales of the forest, of how sorcerers condemned by the old Kings, escaped crucifixion, and fled into the depths of the forest, manipulating the forest as they went with their magic, forming inconspicuous mazes, laced with spells, so whomever ventured would certainly never return. Jeren however, was neither old nor superstitious, that was until his own solitude dawned upon him, with the last unexplained screech sounding as ominous as the next.

Jeren began to tread a little more lightly, picking up pace, only stopping to pouch a mushroom here and there as he went. Soon shadows started to morph into ominous creatures, and the comforting chirps of the birds were swallowed by menacing bellows. The sun no longer luminated the scattered moss and ferns and the air became thick, fog causing a sense of disorientation. The tree bark became cold to touch as Jeren pushed himself forward deeper into the forest. Every sound intensified, and Jeren’s heart began palpitating, it felt as if something was closing in on Jeren, something dark and foreboding about to strike. Just as Jeren’s little heart was about to give out, Jeren slipped on a patch of dampened moss, straight onto his behind and a bird swooped down prompting Jeren to scream, before it all fell silent. Jeren laid on the dampened forest floor, drawing in deep breaths ‘maybe I should’ve taken’ the path’ Jeren belatedly thought. Jeren propped himself up and brushed himself off, it was too late however, he already looked like he had soiled himself.

Wide-eyed Jeren continued trekking through the conifer, collecting mushrooms as he went.

“I wouldn’t eat that one if I were you”.

Jeren screamed as he dropped to the forest floor once more. An elderly man approached from the darkness bemused, offering out his hand.

Uncertain whether to accept this friendly gesture Jeren asked “what is an old man like you doing in the middle of the forest?”

“I could ask you the same thing” the old man returned hunched over his walking cane. He gestured his hand out again, Jeren clasped it, and the old man pulled him up, admittedly the old man was considerably stronger than he appeared.

“I live in these parts” the old man continued. A perplexed furrow creased Jeren’s face “in the woods?”

“Yes, in the woods” the old man repeated “you look lost young boy, where are you headed?”

“The Valley of Shargard” Jeren said confidently.

“The Valley of Shargard?” the old man pondered for a moment “well the Valley is this way” the old man gestured to a clearing through the forest, Jeren was apprehensive to follow, but admittedly, he was lost.

“Are you not worried about the sorcerers living in the forest” Jeren asked.

“Ha! Nonsense, there’s no such thing” the old man retorted, but Jeren wasn’t so sure anymore, for the branches and ferns suspiciously cleared beneath the old man’s cane.

“How long have you lived out in the woods?” queried Jeren,

“long enough to know my way around these parts, don’t you worry about that. Now enough about my doings, what might it be that brings a young lad like yourself out to the depth of such woodlands?” the old man posed.

“I’m going to slay the last dragon” Jeren responded promptly, upon hearing this the old man immediately swung around,

“and what on the three planets would make you wanna do a thing like that?” the old man asked genuinely puzzled.

Suddenly, Jeren became awash with guilt, for his reasonings weren’t heroic or thoughtful at all, in fact they were arguably greedy and thoughtless.

“I-I” Jeren stuttered as the old man raised one of his misshapen overgrown eyebrows “I want the reward dowry” Jeren sighed lowering his gaze and hunching his shoulders in shame.

“Ah, I see” the man responded “well if it is the last dragon after all, it ought to not matter much” the old man proceeded through the forest, seemingly unbothered by Jeren’s confession.

“Jeren, wasn’t it?” the old man checked.

“How’d you know my name” Jeren asked absolutely blindsided.

“You told me a while back” the old man assured.

“Did I?” Jeren half asked himself.

“Jeren, how do you intend on slaying this said last dragon when the time comes to it” the old man inquired.

“Well, I rather fancy myself an excellent tracker” Jeren boasted “I’ll sure enough discover it’s whereabouts, and when its asleep, strike!” Jeren motioned.

“I see” the old man responded unconvinced “and how long have you been in the woods young Jeren?”.

Jeren stopped dead in his tracks, staring down at his mud trodden feet ‘how long have I ventured the woods?”.

Jeren knew instinctively it had been at least two nights and a day, but he only remembered walking and meeting this peculiar old man, and with that thought the ground beneath his feet began to shift, he felt light but all the whilst heavy as time around him began to elapse, fern fronds uncoiled themselves with unnatural haste, filtered light flickered exchanging between night and day, leaves fell and decomposed, all whilst Jeren hadn’t put a single-foot forward but was still somehow trailing behind the old man who was still calmly making way through the dense growth. Aghast, Jeren’s gaze flickered at all the metamorphosis, before his eyes met a large hoary boulder. All at once, time settled, everything fell silent and felt light again. With the sun warming Jeren’s back, he raised his gaze to see just what was before him, his head lifted to discern a large edifice of rocks reaching as tall as the mind could conceive, for Jeren had made it to the Valley of Shargard.

Absolutely bewildered, Jeren swung around to thank the old man.

“Thha-a-argh”, Jeren fell back onto the rock, as the old man had of course disappeared as if he had never existed, and instead Jeren was greeted by five brawly men, and a young girl that was about Jeren’s height.

A stocky man stepped forward, “what are ye doing in these parts’ boy?”

Jeren didn’t know what to say “I-ah”,

“well come on boy, spit it out” ordered the copper bearded man.

“I’m... um” then Jeren gathered his confidence and spoke proudly “I’m here to slay the dragon”.

There was a silence as what the boy had just confessed took a minute to sink in, before a rupture of husky laughter broke out between the men, the young girl however remained poised, arms folded and unamused, which made Jeren slightly unnerved.

Jeren scratched the back of his head, slightly laughing as if in on the joke “what ye name boy?” inquired the copper bearded man.

“Jeren” Jeren promptly responded.

“Ah, Jeren the slayer, eh?” the man suggested “well I’m Rulanz Lorethorn, these arre me trusty men, and this be me daughter Megret, and we arre also here to slay the dragon” Rulanz chuffed, but Jeren shoulders sank a bit upon realising just who he had unfortunately encountered.

“That’s alright me boy, come with us, ye will soon see a dragon get slain, I promise ye that!”

It wasn’t entirely what Jeren was bargaining for, but he wasn’t exactly in a position to argue otherwise, so instead he made haste with the men, along the valley side, toward their camp.

Jeren felt like a wishbone between these broad and brooding men, ready to be snapped at any given moment, and Megret seemed displeased with Jeren’s presence, completely uninterested in making small talk with Jeren despite his barely veiled efforts.

“Don’t ye worry son, there be just one beast left in this Valley” Rulanz reassured Jeren as they entered the Valley.

It took till days end to finally reach the small exposed campsite of Rulanz and his men, they were obviously quite confident, with only a handful of hide tents exposed in the centre of the valley. Everyone quickly gathered and settled by the fire, the men reminisced through tales of their dragon slaying expeditions, as supper of bread and stew was passed around. Jeren didn’t want to be impolite, but this was his first proper meal in weeks, he was famished, and so Jeren slurped and guzzled the stew. Impressed Rulanz asked “how old are ye boy?”, Jeren swallowed to clear his throat “Ah, eleven… I think” Jeren pondered for a second before returning to his stew.

“We close to the dragon here” Rulanz continued.

“It must’ve been hard to track?” Jeren inquired,

“Ha!” Rulanz erupted “No, no” Rulanz quietened to a slight whisper “my daughter Megret over there, she has a special gift ye see” Rulanz leaned in further “she’s a seer”, Jeren lowered his wooden spoon back toward his bowl and peered over at Megret, who was sitting alone in the far corner just staring upon the dancing embers.

“She can see things; she sees where the beasts arre” Rulanz disclosed.

Jeren had wondered what a young girl was doing out helping the like of these men slay dragons, but it all made sense now, the dragons didn’t stand a chance, no one stood a chance, but all of a sudden, Jeren saw his chance. These men and Megret had led Jeren right to the dragon’s lair, and Rulanz had the staff of Solen Varlaros, it was perfect! Jeren tried to contain his glee, for Jeren might not be the broad-shouldered burley dragon slayer like these men, but if he was anything, he was an accomplished and experienced thief.

Everyone went to rest, Jeren was given a comfy swag by the fire, and with not much time at all fell into a deep slumber. He suddenly found himself in a quaint candle lit room, where a woman sat across from him at her spinning wheel wailing inconsolably.

“Are you okay” Jeren gently asked as he approached the woman.

“Where is she?” the woman sobbed, where is she?”,

“everything will be okay” Jeren assured as he reached out his hand to console the woman, but the woman’s wailing turned into screeching.

With a gasp, Jeren awoke paralysed, a gush of cold air brushed against his face, and his gaze became fixed on the dragon fluttering above.

“It’s alright lads, no rash movements” reassured Rulanz “he’s just sussing us out, no haste”, and there it was, the most profound creature in all of the three planets! A brazen stygian dragon with glimmers of vermillion red scattered throughout its scales, it was awe-inspiring.

Jeren looked into its viridescent eye as he became entranced, struggling to break gaze, he felt his adrenaline kick in, he felt as if the dragons unbroken stare was on and straight through him, trying to break eye contact was reminiscent of trying to wake from a bad dream.

As soon as Jeren managed to break eye contact, he gasped becoming focused on Megret whose gaze was also on him. Repossessed Jeren realised this was his chance to source the staff, the men didn’t take heed to Rulanz’s words, and were scattered everywhere panicking, seizing their weapons, it was hysteria, so with a jump, Jeren made haste straight for Rulanz’s tent.

There in Rulanz’s tent, Jeren foraged around Rulanz’s surprisingly well-kept and opulent belongings, it was safe to say that Rulanz didn’t travel light, just where amongst these items would the staff be? Jeren paused at a long lean case, he quickly knelt down and unbuckled the case “ah-ha!” there lay a slim, ashen staff holding a turquoise glass jewel at its head. Jeren gently picked it up in awe, it wasn’t nearly as tall as one would expect, in fact it was half the height of Jeren, and Jeren wasn’t very tall, perfect for escaping unnoticed with…

“What are ye doing in here” Jeren swung around tucking the staff down his pants, it was Megret “I-uh, I’m lost” Jeren stammered,

“sure” Megret snapped “why do you want to see the death of such a magnificent beast” Megret queried,

“I don’t” Jeren defensively responded.

“Ye just wanted to slay it ye’self” Megret bemused.

“I would’ve and I could’ve” Jeren agitatedly assured Megret “not everyone is born into dowry like your graciousness” Jeren bowed mockingly “anyway I quite like dragons, I would’ve done it with a heavy heart, more than what I can say for your father”,

“they’re dangerous” Megret cautioned,

“that they are, but the only dragon I ever saw harm anyone was rode by a human” Jeren proclaimed, and upon hearing this Megret lowered her gaze.

Chaos was still rousing outside, and Jeren was eager to leave before the men eased.

“So ye like dragons young Jeren, but ye are willing to slain one for dowry” Megret asked confused,

“it’s just a dragon” Jeren pleaded,

“it’s not just a dragon” Megret said fervidly “it’s the last dragon”, Jeren was taken aback by Megret’s sudden attack, but then it occurred to him.

“Are you not the one responsible for all the other dragons’ demise?”,

I had no choice” Megret defended,

“there’s always a choice” Jeren felt the commotion outside starting to settle, and in doing so Jeren began his commencement out the tent having come to the conclusion Megret probably wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Jeren had meanwhile managed to stick the staff down his trousers and up his shirt, with his sac covering the bulge. He gestured his farewell to Megret, bowing down, and keeping his back away from her for as long as normally possible.

“So, this is it, Jeren? Ye going to slay the last known dragon for some dowry?”, Jeren paused for a moment pondering his morals before he swung around and skipped out.

Megret just stood poised for a few moments in her father’s tent, listening as the commotion outside dimmed, all of a sudden, her father slung the tent curtains open and looked below to see the staff case buckled open.

“Where’s the staff Megret?” Rulanz asked absolutely stumped.

Megret did not hesitate as she looked straight up at her father, “Jeren stole it”.

So, the race began, Jeren ran, trailing the dragon with every blow of its leathery wings, down the Valley, before it veered off and disappeared eastward into the cavernous rocks. Jeren promptly jumped up onto the rocks and began climbing, unbothered by the scratching and slicing of his hands, knees and feet as he periled up the Valley side. Jeren weaved through serrated rocks, before “ah-ha!” there it was. Jeren looked up at a large dark cave hollowed into a rock face, sheltered from any unwanted onlookers by even larger rock faces. Jeren scurried up toward the cave, for time was of essence.

“Where’s the dragon Megret?” Rulanz shook Megret, red faced with an unsightly vein popping out from the side of his forehead.

“I don’t know, I can’t see it” Megret insisted frustratedly,

“how can ye not see him? You alone have traced dragons all over the Valley, ye better not be protecting the boy!” Rulanz pleaded.

Megret screwed up her face trying to see “I-I just can’t!”

“Rulanz!” one of his men interrupted “it’s been sighted” Rulanz relaxed his clasp on Megret and made haste.

Jeren scoured the lair’s surface, and found a small cavity burrowing into the side and without a seconds thought Jeren threw his sac up above him and then hoisted himself up into the dusty narrow passageway. With each and every single heave upward and deeper into the passageway, Jeren’s breath became heavier and colder, it became darker, the dust turned to mud, and the dampened walls became claustrophobic, but Jeren could see a soft light! Jeren blew out his breath and held it to make himself smaller, as he pushed himself and the sac forward. “Ah!” the coarse wall nicked Jeren’s check, undeterred Jeren clutched at the protruding cave wall, squeezed himself up, then placed his foot into a pothole. With considerable adrenaline fuelled force, Jeren kicked himself up. Jeren grunted as he pushed out and away from the passageway.

Down below in the Valley, Rulanz and his men were fast approaching, all armoured and shielded, ready to embrace the spitting embers, all prepared of course with the exception of the staff of Solen Varlaros…

Jeren balanced his breath, but in the absence of his heavy breathing, Jeren’s ears fixed on a gnawing growl. Jeren drew in a deep breath, and with the staff of Solen Varlaros in one hand and his sword in the other, Jeren swung around.

Rulanz’s men successfully scouted the cave in which the dragon was certainly residing. There was a fair distance between them and the cave, and many rocks to climb in the meantime. Rulanz and his men demounted their horses, and proceeded, sword in hand, arrows in quiver, up the cave’s cliff.

Jeren was now face-to-face with the last dragon, but it was not what Jeren was anticipating. Instead of standing tall on his hinds, teeth showing, gnarling, ready to protect itself from any immediate harm, it cowered, on all fours, against the caves surface, and instead of letting out an unprecedently voracious roar, it snarled in fear. It was exhausted, and looking into its unwavering glare, Jeren felt a deep sense of sorrow, and guilt, it had been driven out and hunted down for months. It was completely in the fullest sense alone; it was exhausted and in pain. Jeren lowered the staff and his sword, and lowered his head in guilt, he couldn’t do it.

“Up here lads!” Jeren’s attention swung to the gush of wind bellowing into the cave.

“no” Jeren thought to himself, he fixed his grip on the sword and ran to the cave’s entry.

“NO!” he screamed almost falling over at the cave’s entry, looking down at Rulanz and his men creeping up the cliff’s edge.

Rulanz halted, and lifted his bulky leg on the nearest boulder before yelling back at Jeren “I’m surprised boy, very surprised Jeren Stonebane!”, for a moment Jeren was thrown into a memory, but remained unmoved.

“This is wrong!” Jeren erupted “and you know it is Rulanz! Your daughter knows it is!” and with this an interjection erupted from the heavy overcast above, followed by light embraces of rain.

“My daughter knows nothing of the sort” Rulanz snarled as he gestured to his men to move forward up toward the cave “now give me the damn staff boy!” Rulanz demanded.

“NO!” Jeren roared with such conviction that even Rulanz stopped in his tracks and looked up.

“You will not have this staff, no one will!” and with one big swing, Jeren struck the ornate tip of the staff against a nearby jagged rock with the opaque glass disintegrating into a million serrated pieces, along with it the history of the Solen Varlaros. Jeren regained himself and stood proud, chest puffed at the edge of the cliff, as Rulanz fell to his knees, hand out in a frail attempt to stop him.

“Noo! What have ye done boy?” Rulanz’s face filled with unutterable anger, and suddenly Jeren felt as if he had done something exceptionally bad.

All at once, the dragon swooped up over Jeren, out of the cave, spanning its shadow over Rulanz’s men, peering down through the men’s soul, before accumulating enough wind to venture off.

“No!” Jeren yelled with an ache in his voice, as he witnessed a large arrow sear through the air, puncturing the dragons wing, and before it could conjure up a gust of wind to fly off, it cascaded down toward the earth.

Jeren cleared his vision from the heavy rain drops, and focused his gaze on one of Rulanz’s men raised up on a rock, clasping a heavy crossbow.

In despair Jeren started fumbling down the cliff face, unsuccessfully racing Jeren’s men, tripping and bruising his face, arms and legs, and when he finally reached the muddied earth beneath him, one of Rulanz’s men seized him.

“Let go me!” Jeren angrily pleaded.

“No chance!” Rulanz approached, as Rulanz’s men apprehended the dragon in the background.

“Ye mischievous boy ye, don’t know what ye just meddled with”,

“leave the dragon alone, it’s the last one, its harmless” Jeren teared up.

“Surely not the Stonebane boy thinking these beasts arre harmless” Rulanz chuckled, angered Jeren just breathed heavy, trying to shake himself free.

“Eh well, this one for your parents, eh?” Rulanz swung around and then exclaimed “and for the KING!” Rulanz’s men all raised their weapons and cheered “FOR THE KING!” before drawing in one the dragon.

“NOO!” Jeren pleaded and yelled, but to no avail, it was one boy against many men “NOO, please no” Jeren pleaded inconsolably.

Rulanz drew his sword and swept it across the dragon’s neck, and with the dragon’s final breath, Jeren was set free and kicked to the dirt, and as the men started celebrating their victory, Jeren just sat on his knees sobbing, the image of the dragon, exhausted and helpless inflicting Jeren’s mind.

“Stop grovelling boy” Rulanz loomed over Jeren “you’ll have a lot of explainin’ to do the king”.

Upon hearing this and with a gush of anger, Jeren jumped up and run off up the cave’s face.

“Should we go after him?” asked one of Rulanz’s men.

“Narr, he be alright” Rulanz assured before swinging back in celebratory gestures.

Jeren scaled the cliff face back up toward the cave, with battering rain causing the rocks to become slippering and the howling wind mourning the death of the last dragon through the Valley. Jeren crunched over the broken staff shards as he found shelter within the depths of the dragon’s cave. There Jeren continued to sob uncontrollably ‘how did it come to this’ Jeren pondered before something all at once broke his sobbing. Perplexed Jeren treaded toward the other side of the cave, for something was glistening through the dark of the cave. Jeren stood and spanned his hands across the large glimmering object, gliding his hands along its hard creased surface, feeling the warmth beaming from with it. It couldn’t be, could it? An egg, a dragon’s egg…