PART 2

The Northern lands where noblemen lived held his past, and he was glad to be free of the politics involved in enmeshing himself in human affairs and royal courts. As he traveled farther South, he noticed a wildness coming back into the landscape. These lands were less inhabited, less wandered, partly due to their dangerous nature. Human beings had long since claimed the Northern borders for their own. They tried to encroach upon the Southern lands, but Knotwood forest and its dark inhabitants were one of many obstacles in their way. Midland dwellers were unfriendly at best and deadly to trespassers at worst.
Dresden remained unconcerned about his presence in unfriendly territory. He had ventured these reaches before. Live long enough and you see everything at least once. The far Southeastern coast was his destination. He had traveled there too long ago to recount now, at a time when the presence of people had just become established in the port town of Sveldin. It had been a homely, drunkard village with many pubs and few highlights. This obscure fishing port seemed like a good place to vanish from the world for a time. Drink never got him drunk, so he had learned to fake inebriation and excuse himself when needed. Four, or perhaps five, more days travel would get him there. He had some dried meat and stale bread when he set out from the Kingdom of Olvergon, where he had served the royal family. Leaving was less an option than it was a forced retreat. The Dragon council revealed Dresden’s identity to the royal family and their subjects, exposing him in a dishonorable way. He regretted his involvement there.
Considering the landscape for a moment, he felt thankful for the greenery in these lands. The edible plants maintained his strength and stamina. Dresden required very little food to fuel him in human form. As a Dragon, however, one of his favorite meals was grizzly bear. He never tired of hunting from the air. When he was in Dragon form, everything on legs became prey. He had even picked off a few people here and there. He didn’t think twice about it during the meal. In human form he wondered about them from time to time, whether they had families and what had become of his meddling, but had to push the thoughts away so he didn’t become too entangled in emotions.
Easily the most difficult aspect of pretending to be a human being was the emotional sway. Fear had never been able to infiltrate his Draconian consciousness, but compassion, tenderness and love, these weak emotions were reserved for women and children. He understood honor, pride and respect, those were for warriors, shared mutually on a battlefield, engaging with skilled fighters. They deserved the right when they fought well. Treachery was met without mercy. But emotions were difficult to manage when he was around other people. Just their presence seemed to bring them out in him. Although he had never really loved a person, he had enjoyed the company of women in fleeting encounters throughout his time in human form. Human women were lovely creatures, beautiful to behold, but silly and nonessential. He could never allow himself to become seriously attracted to a woman, as they would age and die while he lived on, retaining his youth. His appearance would suggest that his age was somewhere in the mid thirties or forties: facial hair, receding hairline, some wrinkles. Middle-aged, but ageless in his knowledge and skill, with eyes that have seen too much, and from a perspective many could not comprehend.
His mind switched back towards the Dragon Council and his homelands to the West, the Isle of BasNassal; a conglomerate of islands where the Dragons had lived for centuries, untouched by the rest of the world. Only when humans became seafaring creatures did this disturb the Dragons' kingdom. Their politics were not the same as human beings’ and their motivations behind them differed even farther. Since this realm was not their true home to begin with, it had been quite a struggle amongst them whether they would rule the land as more powerful overseers, or leave the world to its own devices until a time when it became mature enough to interact with them. They eventually chose the latter. This led to extremists and zealots who were cast out for their out-voted beliefs. Dresden was among those who idealized the ruling of humankind and would not sway from his viewpoint. They were children in comparison to Dragons in his thinking. So he was exiled from his kind to live among people to whatever end the fates allowed. He did not associate with the other Dragon outcasts, and could not tell you where they dwelled or even whether they still lived. He cared not what their fate had become.
Dresden paused on the roadside. The terrain had leveled out and he realized he had been walking absentmindedly, lost temporarily in memories. What drew him back into this reality perplexed him. Not a sound, or a threat, but a feeling. A longing. What was he longing for? As though trying to grip a fish, he couldn’t grasp it, and the feeling faded from him. He was unclear if this was a human feeling or something larger that he had denied himself over the hundreds of years in exile. Hundreds of years, yes, it really had been so long. He had to wonder, did he miss the Dragons?
No. The answer came as a hard resolve that got his feet moving again. These lands had changed, he noted as he resumed his pace. Rolling hills in the distance now with fields of wheat. Farmland dotted the landscape. He was still too far away from the port of Sveldin to begin seeing this kind of habitation, and yet there it was, clear as the sunny day and the road at his feet.
A peasant working the fields took notice of him. She set down her tools and ran towards the house. This was nothing new, his presence was frightening to some. Dark stained leather from head to boot, Kizjin Kol hanging ominously from his back, the oversized sword had a hearty girth and was much longer than most. His belt, equipped with daggers and pouches, hung loosely around his breeches which were made larger to allow movement in battle. Regardless of the blazing sun, Dresden wore dark gloves on his hands, a long sleeved tunic with metal buttons, and a hood to shield his face from the heat. The hood shrouded his eyes in shadow, giving him an air of mystery. The devil himself couldn’t look more threatening if he’d tried. Dresden prepared himself for a confrontation. Within moments, the house emptied and people were walking up to him. A man, possibly his wife, and a herd of children of all ages, like ducks in a row behind them, were soon brimming over the fence as he approached.
“Good day stranger, where do you hail from?” The man asked, muscular, with large arms, and calloused hands that carried no weapons. His tone was pleasant and light, which surprised Dresden.
“I have just come from the Knotwood. I have been traveling for two weeks from the highlands of the North where noblemen and politics rule the land. I was not expecting to see people this close to the forest. It has been many years since I’ve traveled this way.”
The children examined him thoroughly but kept themselves on their side of the wooden fence that separated the road from the field. The three smallest pointed and whispered to one another.
“The North you say? That is quite a journey. And you went through the Knotwood?” The young man stretched his words as though he could not quite comprehend the meaning. The way he spoke, told Dresden that they were aware of the dangers and were considering whether he was one of them.
But the man surprised him a second time when he said, “you must be famished, traveler. Please come inside and tell us of your journey. We are simple people, but we can offer you food and perhaps a place to rest before you carry on your way.” The politeness of the man who had such a lovely family to protect concerned Dresden. He would have assumed they would just send him on his way, as was customary when he encountered “simple people”.
“I will not turn down a meal, but I have few stories to share that would not frighten the lot of your children I’m sure.” With that Dresden grinned wide, showing perfectly white teeth with sharp canines. Dragons could not quite hide themselves completely. Fortunately there were few who had encountered Dragons enough to know what to look for. They ushered him onto their property and into the house. He had not spent much time with people since his recent royal affairs. This would prove to be amusing for him due to his love of human children. Their innocence was golden, so pure as the driven snow, there was nothing more glorious in all the world. His Dragon brethren had hated that about him as well. He considered the possibility that the family might try to rob him in the night. They seemed too eager of his company, though the wife and older children seemed suspicious of his presence and his sword.
They proved to be as kind as they made themselves out to be. Kizjin Kol rested against one wall and stood taller than five of the nine children. It had taken Dresden some time to count them as they were running about, showing off their fanciest belongings to the fascinating stranger. Dresden remained cautious, but allowed himself a casual moment with the family. He sat with Jafen, the father of the herd, while Lilieth, the mother, busied herself with food, children and other motherly tasks. Dresden could tell she was grateful to have an excuse not to visit with him. The excitement of something new made it difficult to calm the smallest children as they kept sneaking over to see and touch Dresden’s sword sheath. One of the children managed to get very close and ran her small hand up and down the leather sheath. A resonant tone sounded from the blade within, frightening the girl into her father’s arms.
“What is it father? Can a sword really sing like that?”
Dresden let out a belly laugh that shook the thick wooden table between them.
“Kizjin Kol is a very special sword.” As he spoke, Dresden rose to his feet to fetch his sword. He picked it up easily with one hand. As he removed the sheath, the children gathered around their father to see it. Lilieth stood at the counter drying dishes with a rag, watchful as a hawk. The children’s eyes grew wide. This brought out a playful side in Dresden, and he shared with them the story of Kizjin Kol, the Dragon Blade of Helagoth.
“Five Hundred years ago,” Dresden began in a suspenseful tone. “There was a Dragon whose metalworking surpassed that of any person, of any Dragon even. This Dragon waited for a Lunar event called the Thousand Falling Soldiers. From the sky, balls of fire lit up the world and destroyed villages across the land. This Dragon, daring and bold, plucked them from the sky like fiery marbles.” Dramatically Dresden pretended he was plucking them up with his fingers. The children’s eyes grew round, waiting on his every word.
"With his eternal flame, he took the sky stone and worked it red hot for several days and nights without food or rest. He shaped the molten stone into this fine blade, sharpened it up and scribed the symbols for rage, wrath and victory upon the blade.” He caressed the flat edge of the sword where strange and beautiful markings lined the blade. “It is said that this sword was left in the sacred temple for five days and six nights on the Dragon islands of BasNassal, which imbued it with wisdom, good fortune and discernment. The blade rings out when innocence comes within its grasp. It can do no harm to those who are faultless. Anyone who dares try to strike down one who is pure within will suffer a terrible curse for the rest of their days.” As he concluded this tale, he sheathed Kizjin Kol and returned it to the resting place against the wall. All the children cheered quietly.
“Tell us another one!”
“Have you met a Dragon?”
“How did you get a Dragon sword?”
“Can I hold it?”
The onslaught of questions made Dresden and Jafen chuckle. Lilieth rounded them up with her motherly assertiveness, herding them towards their beds. The three youngest who had whispered about him behind the fence posts came up and hugged Dresden’s legs. He patted them and tousled their hair.
Jafen led Dresden to the stables where he would be able to rest in the hay. He apologized for not having a more accommodating place for his guest to sleep, but Jafen’s wife would never let him stay in the house, even on the floor. Jafen explained that she was a suspicious woman who would have preferred that Dresden pass through without stopping. Jafen felt terrible for admitting such a thing to him, but Dresden shrugged and accepted it without sharing his thoughts, which he had shared with Lilieth. The stables were bright and cozy under a full moon. Dresden checked all exits and secured his location before settling down next to the horse pen and closing his eyes with Kizjin Kol resting across his lap.
The moon had moved quite far into the night when the horse, neighing with agitation, woke Dresden with a start. His senses were instantly alert. Something was wrong. Something was in the stables with him and he could hear them coming closer. The footsteps were light, small, adept at sneaking, but the horse continued to sound the alarm. Whatever was encroaching bolted from the side exit of the barn, running out into the wheat field. Dresden stood and sniffed the air. A familiar scent met his nose. It was unfortunate, but he knew exactly who had been sneaking up on him.