Wanted: Dragon (standard:fantasy, 8540 words)
Author: N Nocida	Added: Jun 06 2007	Views/Reads: 3123/2148	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A father and son reunite to embark on an adventure to slay a menacing dragon. Along the way, they begin to mend their troubled relationship.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

A light bobbed within the edges of the darkness, and a brawny man
wearing an over tunic and cape halted his horse as he emerged into the 
moon's radiance. Arcas's heart leaped at the sight of his son. Eric 
dismounted into the outstretched arms of his father. It was a long 
embrace and an emotional reunion. Even Sylmus shed tears of joy. Eric 
grew in height and strength since Arcas saw him last. 

"You have become stronger." Arcas said, studying his son at arm's length
and observing every curving muscle in Eric's iron-like arms. 

Eric smiled at Arcas. "The long journey home has strengthened me." He
looked down into those familiar eyes rimmed with joyous tears. 

"You have done well." Arcas said proudly. 

Arcas noted the wisdom of a growing man etched along his son's firm jaw.
Eric was no longer naive youth he raised. Now his son was a mature 
young adult whose strength and power surpassed most men his age. A 
wistful smile curled along Arcas's bearded face. He was proud of his 
son and his accomplishments. However he still deeply wished Eric had 
chosen to pursue a profession in the art of magic instead of a ranger. 

"Let us go inside. We have much to discuss." Arcas insisted. He did not
want the joyous moment to be ruined with past thoughts. 

Following the wizard's lead, Sylmus collected Eric's belongings and
horse then disappeared towards the stables located near the home's 
southern wall. The large iron doors closed heavily behind the two. 
Silence briefly returned to the garden. On cue the crickets resumed 
their nightly melody. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Arcas pressed his finger against his lips and pondered over the words on
a piece of paper Eric handed to him. 

"WANTED: DRAGON" Wanted for the horrible pillaging of our farmland and
livestock. Will reward substantially and you may keep the foul beast's 
treasure. 

---Tumpton Tosslefoot Lord Mayor of Mistybridge 

Eric sat at a table and eagerly watched his father pace back and forth,
hoping this news would lure him on a possible adventure that would 
prove very interesting. Over the last few months a young dragon has 
been hunting the local livestock. Fear has slowly crept into the hearts 
and minds of the farmers and woodsmen and action must be taken. The 
Rangers of Everfield drove the dragon away from its previous lair far 
to the north. The dragon fled to this area and has taken refuge in the 
ruins of Castle Ravenrook along with its treasure. The thought of any 
valuable treasure did more for Arcas than just raise a curious eyebrow. 
Not only was Arcas obsessed with manufacturing incredible potions but 
he also possessed an unquenchable desire to collect items of ancient or 
magical make. In fact the cellar of his home was a series of vaults 
housing fascinating items both magical and non magical that he 
collected over the years. Unfortunately, Arcas laced the vaults with so 
many magical traps that he soon forgot how to bypass some of them. He 
knew some of those traps were loaded with powerful explosives, enough 
to collapse his home into a pile of rubble and uproot many trees in the 
nearby grove. 

"So you want to slay this dragon and claim its treasure as well as the
reward from the mayor." Arcas said.. 

"Yes, and I want you to come with me." Eric pleaded. "With your magic
and my strength we can defeat the dragon." 

"A journey to the ruins would be futile." Arcas reasoned. "We have no
chance to slay it. It would be suicide! " 

"The dragon is just a youngster, not very big." Eric rebuked. "Besides
it is vulnerable. The rangers have already struck a serious blow to its 
ego." 

Arcas put his hands on his hips and glared at Eric. "This is too
dangerous." he said. "You should not be going off to risk your life to 
fight this dragon." 

Eric slammed his fists so hard against the table that the wine glasses
sitting atop it swooned and nearly toppled. He stood to tower over his 
father and glare at him angrily. 

"Where has you sense of adventure gone, father?" Eric cried, his muscles
bulging with intensity. "There was a time you would seize an 
opportunity for adventure like this without hesitation." 

Arcas was stunned by the conviction in Eric's voice. However, he was the
boy's father and refused to be spoken to in such manner. 

"Don't you speak to me in such a manner, boy." Arcas scolded, glaring at
his son evenly. 

Sylmus entered the room but wisely avoided the dispute and went about
his chores. Eric realized that perhaps he overstepped his bounds so 
retreated to his seat. He apologized to Arcas for the rash outburst. 

"You still cannot accept the fact that I didn't want to follow in your
footsteps and become a wizard." Eric stated. 

"I've accepted the fact that something has clouded your better
judgment." Arcas corrected, as he continued to pace nervously in quick 
circles. "I could never understand why you wanted to be a ranger in the 
first place." 

Eric bit his tongue. He let the insult go without rebuke. 

"I don't expect you to understand, father. I just expect you to accept
my decision to become a ranger." He said softly and sadly. 

Arcas's anger diminished when he turned to regard his son. Eric was
slouching in his chair, arms folded across his chest and legs 
outstretched under the table. A tear rimmed his eye as he stared 
blankly into the empty glass before him. A pain seared into Arcas's 
heart as he watched Eric's sadness. Arcas knew his own selfishness 
distanced him from his son many years ago. Many painful memories rushed 
through the wizard's mind. Eric was never interested with studying the 
ways of the magic despite Arcas's persistence to make the boy his 
apprentice. Arcas's intelligence and wisdom surpassed many others 
involved in his profession, yet when matters of the heart were 
involved, he could only proclaim himself a novice. Eric suffered the 
most from Arcas's emotional blindness. Unable to tolerate his father's 
relentless involvement in his experiments any longer he left home to 
pursue a different life. The wizard remembered the pain so vividly when 
he left. Now, Arcas realized the hurt his past actions inflicted on his 
son. Arcas had engrossed himself so deep within his experiments, so 
deep sometimes that he was never seen for months outside his 
laboratory. He was never there for Eric, when a son needed a father. 
Arcas slid towards Eric and rested his wrinkled hand upon his shoulder. 


"I'm sorry," he whispered. 

He noted Eric was not fully convinced, and he accepted the challenge to
prove to Eric that he could change, and finally be the father he should 
have been. It would be a tedious task; more difficult than any magical 
experiment the wizard would ever conduct. 

"Come with me to face the dragon, father." Eric asked simply. 

"I'm too old to be chasing after beasts, and pilfering treasure." Arcas
huffed. 

"That is a poor excuse father, and you know that." Eric rebutted calmly
"You are fit for the road as much as I am." 

Arcas could not argue his point. He has been very fortunate to remain
healthy over the passing years despite a stroll around the garden to be 
the extreme of his exercise. Sylmus inherited the bulk of the hard 
labor required to maintain a clean and well-stocked home while Arcas 
focused his mental energies on his experiments. However, the wizard 
possessed physical and mental stamina acquired through many enduring 
years of adventuring. 

"My experiment is not finished. " Arcas explained. "I cannot leave my
work partially complete." 

Sylmus begged to differ but Arcas interrupted and ordered him to fetch a
broom and sweep the outside path before bedtime. 

"Your work can wait, father." Eric mentioned, abiding Sylmus's words.
"Years ago you would yield your work to a spontaneous opportunity such 
as this. What experiment is so crucial that you are willing to pass up 
such a potentially exciting adventure?" 

Arcas felt the truth of his son's words sink into his own heart. He
understood the healing process would be a long and tedious endeavor. 
But he decided he could not afford to fail his son anymore. 

"Well, I guess if you are up to getting yourself knocked around by a
dragon, I better be with you." Arcas sighed. "But at least let me test 
something concerning my experiment, then we can leave tomorrow 
afternoon." 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Sylmus sat cross-legged underneath the brilliant light of the moon. He
concentrated with all his mental energies on the animated broom as it 
swept across the cobblestone path. He commanded the broom to sweep 
faster, and it did. His heart pounded faster each time he commanded the 
broom successfully. It was a simple spell, one Arcas could cast with 
ease, but Sylmus had yet to master the spell. Faster and faster the 
broom scurried down the path. He was careful to keep the broom from 
drifting out of the range of effect. Bristles scraped more 
aggressively, and dirt was kicked up left and right. Sylmus pushed his 
abilities to the limit, but disaster struck. The broom spun wildly away 
from the path and into one of Arcas's favorite flower patches. Sylmus 
tried desperately to regain control, but the broom continued to spin 
scattering frail flower petals into the air. He gasped and allowed his 
mental energies to dissipate. As soon as the broom landed heavily into 
the thick growth of flowers, he leaped to his feet and scurried to 
inspect the damage. The damage was not bad so hopefully Arcas might not 
notice. He uttered a sigh of disappointment as he reached for the 
fallen broom. This particular spell was the most difficult he had ever 
tried to cast. Others he had prepared were easy to cast and often were 
met with quick success. Now his progress was hindered by this 
deceptively easy spell. He heaved the broom across the garden and 
almost struck Eric who had just came outside to enjoy the warm night. 
Sylmus's eyes popped open and he covered his mouth. Eric harmlessly 
mocked him with laughter, but stopped when he realized the conviction 
in Sylmus's frantic apologies. 

"I am one to consider self cleanliness a high priority, but I bathe
instead of sweeping myself with a broom. " Eric joked, although Sylmus 
did not find the statement amusing. 

"It is a frustrating spell." Sylmus whined as he retrieved the broom and
considered breaking the stubborn thing over his knee. "I will never 
reach the level of accomplishment master Arcas has obtained. " 

Eric met those words with empathy, explaining to Sylmus his initial
frustrations while training among his superiors. 

"In time you will achieve your goals." Eric offered simply. 

Eric could not begin to understand the mental capacity required for
becoming a wizard, but by the appearance of Sylmus's new found smile, 
he realized his simple advice was understood. 

Sylmus skipped around the northern corner of the building to continue
his sweeping leaving Eric to his thoughts alone under the moon's 
radiance. The crickets chirped relentlessly luring Eric into a peaceful 
feeling. He hoped he had truly convinced his father to accompany him on 
this journey. Locked away in some room with nose buried inside a book, 
was no way to live. Arcas would never consider such confinement years 
ago. Now perhaps the old Arcas was rekindled by the opportunity for 
adventure. He could only stare at the beauty of the moon and hope for 
the best. 

Soon Eric retired to his room, completely exhausted from the eventful
day. He anticipated good things to develop from his reunion with his 
father. Not only did he need to show his father the brave son he had 
become, but he also needed to rekindle his father's adventurous spirit 
before he rotted away within the confines of his stuffy laboratory. 
Eric slowly slipped into sleep allowing the night sounds to consume him 
as they drifted through the open window.  The crickets' midnight songs 
echoed in his dreams along with the occasional brushing of an animated 
broom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Arcas barreled into his stuffy laboratory, briskly rubbing his hands,
eagerly anticipating good results from the strength potion. Sylmus 
dashed in next, then Eric, who was still half asleep, shuffling in 
last. The three gathered around the rat cage to inspect the rodent for 
any signs of change, except for Eric who was trying to shake the 
grogginess from his head. Arcas was the first to turn away 
disappointingly followed by Sylmus who gathered the cage and proceeded 
to dispose of the dead rat properly. Eric dipped his head sadly, truly 
feeling sorry for his father. He had worked so hard and so long to 
perfect the potion. 

"I'm sorry." Eric empathized. 

"Bah." Arcas spat, waving his hand at Eric. He was not one to wallow in
self-pity, and rarely accepted another's condolences. 

" I believe failure brings out the best in men." Eric stated hoping to
raise his father's depressed spirits a little. 

Failure. The word hit Arcas hard like a stone. On the surface he was
upset that the potion failed, however, underneath the wounds of failure 
ran deeper. Had he truly failed as a father? Had Eric become saturated 
with his stubborn ways and emotional insensitivity so much that it 
forced him to leave for so long? He knew the painful answers to those 
questions, and they could not be changed. However, he realized the time 
for change was now. He decided to prove himself to be an understanding 
father and true friend. The looming expedition to the ruins was a sweet 
opportunity. 

Arcas agreed that they should leave for Castle Ravenrook soon, and Eric
was overjoyed. Eric did not question Arcas when he asked to be left 
alone for a few minutes, and he exited promptly. Arcas scanned the rows 
of lopsided shelves crammed with ancient books. Many were dust covered, 
neglected for years while others were ragged and torn with age crying 
to be tossed out. He reached for a small book. Loose pages yellowed 
with age fanned out across the floor, and he cursed himself not only 
because he had to gather the fallen pages but he also had grabbed the 
wrong book. Several minutes later he found the correct book. It was a 
small brown book inscribed with many spells, a perfect traveling 
companion for a wizard. He fingered through the pages inspecting every 
entry, accounting for every possible spell that was essential to 
survival. Satisfied with the contents of his traveling spell book, 
Arcas tucked it under his arm and closed the laboratory door, leaving 
behind and locked away the memories of his failures. 

Outside Sylmus struggled to load Eric's sack of belongings onto his
master's wagon. A gauntlet slipped out and thudded on the ground. 
Sylmus cursed his luck but Eric smiled at him and retrieved it. Sylmus 
shook his head, and wondered how one man needed so much stuff. Arcas 
loaded the remaining supplies and gave Sylmus specific instructions if 
they do not return. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The bright summer sun was already blasting the early morning landscape
with intense heat. Eric's horse pulled the wagon slowly along the 
winding road distancing the companions from Arcas's home. Long branches 
leaned dangerously overhead making the road look more like a green 
tunnel. Arcas noted the overgrowth of trees and shrubs, and could 
hardly believe that green fields once dominated this patch of land. 
Eric recognized the awe reflected in his father's eyes, an awe like a 
prisoner would possess when viewing a whole new world after many years 
of confinement. Eric smiled. He knew Arcas was beginning to realize the 
misgivings of his meticulous labors. No manufactured potion, no created 
spell was worth missing the wonders nature had to offer. 

"Sylmus had a eager look in his eye," Eric said, "I think he wanted to
come with us." 

Arcas remained silent. 

"You should compliment him more often, he's a good apprentice." Eric
offered. " He tries hard." 

"How many days journey until we arrive at the ruins?" Arcas asked. He
wanted to change the subject and secretly hoped the journey would take 
some time so he could enjoy every inch of the fascinating scenery. 

"Three, maybe less if Flannigan knows a quicker route. " Eric explained.


" Flannigan?" Arcas inquired. He was unaware of the name, or the
significance of this person's involvement with them. 

Eric squinted embarrassingly understanding that he forgot to mention his
friend and that he was making the journey with them. Arcas huffed 
softly as a brief feeling of jealousy poured over him. He really wanted 
this time with Eric all to himself.  He desired to reconcile his past 
mistakes concerning their fragile relationship, not to share with this 
stranger precious time with his son. However, he curtailed his 
inexorable selfishness, and focused on the concerns of his son for once 
in his life. 

"This friend of yours, Flannigan, must possess great knowledge of the
land to know a quick route to the ruins." Arcas stated. He tried hard 
to suppress the disappointing tones lacing his voice. 

Eric was surprised. He expected Arcas to berate him for omitting the
fact that a third person would be joining them. 

"He is a proven ranger." Eric noted. " He was one of the High Rangers
that trained me many years ago. He is a true friend and very kind 
half-elf." 

Arcas bit his tongue. Humans considered half elves vagrants and thieves
at least in this area of the realm. The union between human and elf was 
viewed as an unholy bond especially among the local religious sects. 
Offspring were met with tolerance if not antipathy in most communities. 
However, he was determined to keep an open mind, for his son's sake, 
concerning Flannigan despite his own discrimination towards half-elves. 


The horse whinnied softly, warning Eric about the approaching
intersection. A crooked signpost leaned, offering the rare passerby 
four routes of travel. Eric guided the horse west towards Mistybridge, 
and excitement grew inside Arcas. The wizard hadn't seen the small town 
in many moons, and was eager to gaze upon its crooked streets and fair 
shops to see what had changed. Sylmus had travelled to Mistybridge once 
a month during Arcas's hibernation to buy food and supplies, but never 
informed his master of any newly opened shops. 

"Flannigan's home lies near town." Eric said, startling Arcas briefly
from his daydreaming. "We will meet him there." 

Arcas seemed to pay no heed to Eric's statement. The wizard was too
engrossed with ideas of browsing through Mistybridge's finest shops 
searching for a gem studded amulet or better yet searching the black 
market for a new magical device. A smug smile stretched over his 
bearded face, and Eric shook his head incredulously, wondering what 
crafty thoughts his father's ingenious mind was engineering. 

Both Eric and Arcas were relieved to see the lopsided farmhouse
belonging to the half-elf. Due to the relentless afternoon heat they 
completely exhausted their water supply, and their throats were soon 
parched. Eric unbridled his horse allowing the tired animal to graze 
freely in the shade of a few nearby trees. He then strapped all their 
empty water skins over his shoulder and crossed the open field towards 
the farmhouse. Arcas followed stopping occasionally to wipe his sweaty 
brow with his sleeve. The old farmhouse leaned heavily on rotten 
timbers. Many holes dotted the eastern wall, and the stair-less porch 
sloped awkwardly. Arcas was not surprised that such a dilapidated 
dwelling would be home to a half-elf. But he had to remind himself not 
to judge Flannigan according to the ramshackle building that stood 
before him. 

Arcas waited while Eric walked the perimeter of the house in search of
Flannigan. Eric called his name numerous times but there was no answer. 
He even considered pulling himself upon the porch but dismissed the 
idea when closer inspection revealed weak wooden planks that would 
easily cave in under his weight. Frustrated, he returned to Arcas and 
shrugged his shoulders. 

He knows we're coming, right? Arcas asked. He wondered if Eric had
misinformed Flannigan. 

"Of course," Eric huffed, the heat taking a toll on his patience. 

The sound of chopping wood echoed across the sun beaten field. Eric
turned quickly and saw Flannigan on the opposite side of the field 
swinging an axe. A satisfied smile subdued the angry scowl on his 
sunburned face. He motioned for Arcas to follow him. 

Flannigan continued to swing his axe unaware of the approaching
visitors. His brawny muscles worked in harmony with each vigorous chop. 
Unable to remain a piece of the winter's firewood, slivers of wood shot 
into the air. Flannigan ceased his rhythmic chopping when he caught a 
glimpse of the approaching visitors from the corner of his eye. 

"I didn't expect you so soon." Flannigan said. He greeted Eric with a
firm handshake. 

"You should've seen me coming across the field sooner than you did."
Eric scolded harmlessly. He playfully slapped Flannigan upside the 
head. 

The two exchanged several friendly punches and headlocks. Arcas rolled
his eyes embarrassingly. He prayed nobody else was near to witness such 
ridiculous behavior. 

"Ah, you must be Arcas," Flannigan said, casually offering his hand.
"Eric has told me much about you." 

It's nice to meet you." Arcas replied. He apprehensively extended his
hand. 

He winced as Flannigan gripped his hand tightly, and nearly toppled as
the half-elf practically shook his arm out of the shoulder socket. 

"We need water my friend," Eric pleaded holding one of the water skins
upside down. "The day is too hot for man or beast." 

"Hotter than the red dragon's breath." Flannigan added as he retrieved
his axe and rested it on his shoulder. "I have water inside." 

Arcas stretched his fingers wondering if feeling would ever return to
them. He considered kicking the blundering half-elf in the shin but 
Flannigan and Eric were already heading for the farmhouse. He muttered 
a series of curses to himself and marched quickly to catch up. 

The cool, dark air of the cellar was a welcome relief to the companions
from the relentless summer swelter outside. Flannigan lit a lamp, and 
shadows flickered in the dim glow. The cellar was empty except for a 
few rotted barrels and a dust covered wine rack. Bottles of fine wine 
rested in their compartments waiting patiently to be removed. Flannigan 
had to reach high to grab a particular bottle, lost his balance and 
almost toppled the large rack. He gingerly lowered a slim bottle, and 
blew the dust from its label. 

"This is for you Arcas. " Flannigan said with a smile, handing the
bottle to him. 

With distinct curiosity Arcas snatched the bottle away from Flannigan.
He fingered the peculiar etchings carved into the thick glass. He held 
it against the lamplight. Small shards imbedded within the glass at odd 
angles glistened like stars on a clear night. The etchings together 
with the sparkling shards and a twist of the bottle in the light 
produced an image of elves dancing against a curtain of greenish-yellow 
liquor. Arcas's eyes popped wide open. It was a fascinating illusion. 
The wizard was so captivated by the image, so engrossed in its beauty 
that he didn't even hear Flannigan explain the bottle's origin and 
significance. Finally Arcas's trance was broken, with the help of 
Eric's forceful prod in the ribs. 

" As I was saying, " Flannigan said, smiling patiently, "that is a
Roonma, an elven term meaning 'Dawn's Dew'. It is a sweet liquor 
created by my elven ancestors thousands of years ago. It is a rare 
drink even among the elves themselves." 

"How did you get this?" Arcas asked incredulously. 

"It was passed down to my mother from her ancestors. She gave it to me
after my father died."  Flannigan said. 

Arcas's mood suddenly became somber. "I can't take this." He said
offering the fabulous bottle back to the half-elf. "It belongs with 
your family." 

Flannigan put his hand up in protest. "It will only continue to gather
dust in this dark cellar if I keep it. Eric tells me you have a vault 
of fabulous items. The bottle deserves to be displayed where its beauty 
can be seen. Please take it and display it in your showcase." 

Arcas could not argue with his point. The bottle was a work of art,
deserving of exhibit. It was terrible to lock something this fabulous 
away in the darkness. Flannigan knew that also, but until now could not 
find someone trustworthy enough to cherish the bottle for its 
sentimental value, and not its monetary value. Arcas smiled and nodded. 
He did not want to disappoint his new friend. 

Flannigan clasped his hand down on Arcas's shoulder, and nearly toppled
the old man. "Take good care of it. Kings will give up their crowns for 
just single sip." 

When Flannigan was far up the stairs, Arcas rubbed his bruised shoulder.
"Boy doesn't know his own strength," he muttered. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Flannigan dropped the slender metal box on the ground. It was well over
twelve feet long, so it took him several minutes to undo all the 
latches. When the lid was finally opened, Arcas's jaw dropped when he 
gazed upon the contents. 

"Isn't it a beautiful lance, father? Eric asked, as his eyes gazed
across its length. "Flannigan had it forged for me personally." 

Arcas bent down to inspect its sharp tip. It was carved of mithril, a
strong ore mined by the dwarves living in the deepest tunnels of the 
distant Darkmantle Mountains. The tip combined with the sturdy ebony 
shaft, made this lance a formidable weapon. 

"It will cut through the dragon's scales with ease." Eric predicted. 

Arcas looked at his son. He noted the obsession flickering in his eyes
as he looked upon the lance. Eric stood up and patted Flannigan on the 
shoulder. 

"Flannigan is the best archer I've ever seen," complemented Eric.  "He
can split an apple with an arrow hundreds of yards away." 

" Apples are one thing but can your great marksmanship pierce the
dragon's scale?" Arcas asked skeptically. The lance could test the 
dragon's hide, alongside the wizard's potent magic. But what weapon did 
Flannigan have to offer against the beast? 

Flannigan welcomed the wizard's skepticism with a laugh. "Follow me, I
will show you what I can do." 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The unusually dry summer took its toll on Flannigan's garden, however a
scarecrow stood loyally despite the lack of a prosperous season. It's 
head hung to one side as if embarrassed by the two crows perched on its 
shoulder mocking its failure. The crows flapped away, cawing angrily as 
an arrow whizzed by dangerously. 

"That was just a practice shot." Flannigan insisted, although curses
emerged discreetly from under his breath. 

Arcas and Eric watched patiently as the archer cocked another arrow. He
pulled straight back, muscles working in unison to steady the bow. A 
soft 'twang' followed by a loud whizzing sound filled the air. The 
arrow punctured the scarecrow knocking its head upright. 

"Good shot!" Eric praised. He glanced at his father prompting him for an
equal compliment. 

"Bah!" Arcas huffed. "A dragon's head isn't made of straw!" 

Flannigan smiled and retrieved a headless shaft from his quiver. His
friends watched curiously as he screwed a peculiar arrowhead into the 
open end. Flannigan cocked his bow again with infallible stealth. He 
aimed carefully and let the arrow loose. The scarecrow's head exploded 
showering the garden with flaming straw. The loud explosion forced 
Arcas to the ground cowering in fright. He cursed the half-elf's 
mocking laugh. 

"Arrowheads laced with magical explosives." Flannigan stated. 

He revealed the bandolier full of the dangerous tips from underneath his
over tunic. Eric helped his father to his feet and brushed the dirt off 
his garments. Arcas tried to kick Flannigan in the shin, but he dodged 
out of harm's way. 

"You better not bump into me while your wearing that thing." Arcas
bellowed. "I rather die in the jaws of that dragon than by the hands of 
a clumsy half-elf." 

The companions left the farmhouse the next morning and arrived in
Mistybridge by the afternoon. Arcas's eyes flared with excitement as he 
gazed upon the elegant shops along the crooked streets. However his joy 
was short lived when they parted quickly from the quaint town. Castle 
Ravenrook loomed in the distance, not more than a day's journey away. 
Waiting within its confines lurked an evil dragon. 

Arcas remained silent and his thoughts began to race. Although Arcas
failed to comprehend Eric's way of life, he needed to accept it. He had 
been torn away from his son for so long. Eric had come to him trying to 
mend their relationship by offering a chance to fight by his side. As 
for Flannigan, he was an outcast, met with tolerance among the humans 
and elves alike. He was a victim of circumstance, labeled as unnatural 
from the moment of birth. He never pre-judged Arcas despite the snide 
comments the wizard directed towards him. Arcas concluded he had much 
to learn from his new friend. 

Night arrived quicker than the rushing wind. The companions set up camp
on a hillside not far from the ruins. Eric volunteered for first watch 
so the others, who seemed more exhausted than him, could rest. However, 
Arcas could not sleep. He watched his son who was leaning on the lance 
and staring at the moon's crimson light that had finally made its 
appearance in the summer sky. His eyes returned to the soft glow of the 
campfire and he removed his spell book from his pack. He fingered 
through the pages, memorizing spells he could use against the dragon. 
If he couldn't sleep he might as well prepare for the confrontation. 
Flannigan's sporadic snoring hindered Arcas's studies, so the wizard 
threw an empty water skin at the annoying half-elf. Flannigan didn't 
even acknowledge the blow. He just continued snoring. Arcas cursed 
softly as he slammed his spell book shut. 

Arcas reached inside his pack and removed the bottle of Roonma. He
carefully scrutinized the fascinating artwork, and let the images dance 
in the firelight. The wizard fell into the image's irrefutable charm. 
He soon found himself dancing with the elves among a thick forest of 
green. Faster and faster he skipped around the trees trying to keep up 
with the nimble elves. Laughter echoed among the boughs and Arcas felt 
his heart soar. He felt the wind whisk him away. On gentle currents he 
weaved through the forest passing the quickest of elves. Soon he came 
to an open field where the sunlight illuminated the fields of green. 
Arcas never realized how much his heart had hungered for adventure. He 
felt free, and he had his own son to thank. He heard whispers among the 
trees. He listened carefully. 

"At your weakest and most humble moment, you will find the strength of a
thousand warriors." The voices whispered. 

Just then another loud snore from Flannigan tugged Arcas away from his
dreams. Arcas muttered some words under his breath and pulled the 
covers over his head. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Morning fog swirled among the broken walls of Castle Ravenrook. Memories
of more pleasant times were scattered among the courtyard in the form 
of decomposed tapestries and cracked statues. The castle entrance was 
just a yawning hole now, obviously wrecked by the dragon. 

All was silent among the companions as they prepared themselves for the
inevitable battle. Eric practiced with his lance, while Arcas prepared 
one last spell. Flannigan studied the entrance, carefully listening for 
any movement within the darkness beyond. 

"The dragon sleeps." Flannigan revealed. "I hear its snores rumbling
across the stones." 

Arcas swallowed hard and looked at his son nervously. He reached into
the wagon for his staff. It was made of sturdy oak topped with a 
replica of an owl's head. The staff was laced with powerful magic, even 
magic beyond Arcas's comprehension. He planned to use the staff only if 
needed. Once its magic was consumed the staff would wither away to 
dust. Eric put on his light chain mail, donned his helmet and slipped 
his hands into thick gauntlets. He retrieved the ebony lance and his 
large tower shield. The sun penetrated through the dissipating fog, 
reflecting off the gold and black raven, the symbol of his order of 
rangers, imprinted on the shield. 

With a determined look Eric lead his friends through the ruins. Huddled
under the light of a single torch they picked their way through the 
rubble. Dripping water echoed in the distance along with the rhythmic 
breathing of the sleeping dragon. Tension increased as the dragon's 
breathing became louder. The companions readied their weapons expecting 
to find the dragon with the turn of each corner. Soon they found a 
large cavern, which used to be the castle's audience chamber. The 
meager torchl had not the strength to light the entire chamber but the 
companions knew the dragon rested here somewhere in the darkness. 

Suddenly, without warning the rhythmic breathing ceased. Yellow eyes
narrowed dangerously appeared in the darkness. Frightened, Flannigan 
dropped the torch and it extinguished itself upon impact. There was a 
loud scraping of leathery wings as the dragon reared back. Arcas sensed 
potential danger. He had fought a dragon once before, an ancient 
black-scaled dragon many years ago within the murk of Grympen Myre. His 
wisdom warned him that when a dragon rears back and wings flap loudly 
danger follows. Quickly he muttered a few arcane words and his eyes 
flared with a blue hue. He focused magically into the darkness with 
makeshift eyesight seeking refuge. 

"Eric! Flannigan! Duck behind the shield." Arcas ordered, screaming at
the top of his lungs. 

Eric braced the tower shield in a crack in the floor. He curled up as
much of his body as he could behind it. Flannigan quickly joined him 
curled up as well. The dragon inhaled strongly, the strength of its 
breath intake echoing through the room. The wizard knew he had mere 
seconds to protect himself from a gush of fire. With a crooked finger, 
he inscribed an arcane design in the air. A white aura enveloped Arcas 
just in time. A strong stream of fire shot through the air leaving the 
wizard trapped in small pocket of air. He couldn't see the others 
through the blinding flames and could only hope the shield was enough 
to protect them from the flames and the heat. The fire continued 
relentlessly testing the magical pocket to the limits of its power. 
Arcas feared the spell would dissipate before the dragon's fire was 
finished. Luckily the fire ended abruptly, well before the protection 
spell expired. Smaller fires ignited by the scorching breath flickered 
harmlessly, providing sufficient light to the dismal chamber. Arcas 
breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his companions slightly burned 
but still alive. However, his relief was short lived, for now he could 
see the dragon crouched in front of him, ready to strike like a hungry 
predator. 

"Fools! " the dragon snarled. "You will not escape, not with one piece
of gold from my treasure!" 

The dragon swung its horned head around to inspect his adversaries. His
wings stretched back among a rattle of scales. His spiked tail emerged 
from a bed of gold and twisted dangerously in the dim light. 

"Hmpph" the dragon grunted. "What mockery is this? The High Mayor
challenges me with fools!" 

"Surrender yourself or die." Eric ordered, trying to show conviction
despite his stammering voice. 

The dragon eyed the ranger curiously, and began to laugh. "Two petty
rangers and a simple old wizard have come to kill me? You have chosen 
your fate, and you will pray for the sweet release of death. Your 
feeble weapons will not harm me." 

Eric gripped the ebony lance tightly, anticipating the dragon to attack
at any moment. He held the remains of his shield, the metal warped from 
the intense heat. From the corner of his eye he saw Flannigan edging 
along the eastern wall searching for a proper spot to launch his deadly 
arrows. He felt the sweat dripping from underneath his helmet as the 
dragon stared dangerously at him. Eric began to shiver and his limbs 
went numb. Panic swelled within him. 

The dragon roared loudly and lashed at the paralyzed ranger with his
sharp talons. An explosion rocked Eric's body as he fell hard to the 
ground. His armor absorbed the deadly claw rakes. He struggled to crawl 
to safety, but the dragon was too strong. He desperately reached for 
the ebony lance, to try to mount some offense, but his fingers barely 
touched the weapon. 

Arcas launched a magical ice bolt at the beast, but thick scales denied
any damage. He cursed loudly and ran towards his jeopardized son. He 
skidded to a stop and pointed his staff at the dragons jaw. 

"Acid! " The wizard commanded his magical staff. 

A stream of greenish acid spewed from the tip and splashed into the
dragon's mouth. This time the damage was not denied. The dragon reared 
back, roaring in pain as the nasty acid burned its fleshy mouth. 

His head swimming in pain, Eric managed to grab the ebony lance and pull
himself to his feet. He took advantage of the distraction and thrust 
the lance into the dragon's chest. A spark flashed as the mithril tip 
split the thick scales. Eric pushed harder venting all his anger, his 
frustration into burying the ebony lance into the heart. Blood, redder 
than the dragon's hide trickled down the ebony lance. Eric leaned into 
the lance, pushing with all his might against the struggling beast. 

The dragon roared in pain. Never before had the beast felt such torment.
Never before had a weapon penetrated his immortal flesh. He swiped his 
tail and struck Eric solidly knocking him to the ground. The dragon 
desperately clawed at the lance trying to dislodge it from his bleeding 
chest. 

By this time Flannigan had picked his way around the dragon's right
flank and found himself ankle deep within the beast's treasure of gold 
coins. He reached under his tunic and fingered for an explosive 
arrowhead. With his other hand he reached over his shoulder and 
produced a headless arrow from his quiver. He screwed the tip tightly 
and cocked his bow. He let the arrow fly and with deadly accuracy 
struck the dragon in the face. The dragon's head jerked to the side as 
the explosion tore into it. But the dragon continued to fight. The 
beast searched the chamber for the location of his enemies. It swiped 
its tail rapidly to the right nearly decapitating the ducking half-elf. 
He feigned an attack against the wizard, and caught an unsuspecting 
Eric in the grip of his deadly talons. Eric screamed loudly, his armor 
barely saving his bones from being crushed. The dragon swung him around 
like a rag doll, preventing the others from gaining a clear shot. 

Arcas prodded at the beast's abdomen with the end of his staff. His
deceptively frail arms stabbed hard but the scales were impenetrable. 
He feared his son dead. Nobody could survive a crushing blow from a 
dragon's lethal squeeze. Visions scurried through the wizard's mind. He 
saw the dead rat, the failure of his strength potion. He saw a young 
Eric pleading for attention against a wall of dusty books enclosed 
around his father. So engrossed with his experiments, Arcas failed to 
realize the needs of his son when he was young. Now his son was 
helplessly locked in the grasp of the evil dragon, perhaps even dead. 
Arcas hit the dragon with a rapid outpouring of thrusts. The staff 
skidded harmlessly off the dragon with each swing, but Arcas pounded 
relentlessly. He faintly heard the explosions of Flannigan's arrows 
over the din of his own cries. He wondered what magic could possibly do 
considerable harm against this dragon. 

Suddenly, the staff broke under the strain and all the magical energies
contained forked in all directions. The explosion flung Arcas across 
the chamber head over heels and face first onto his backpack he had 
removed earlier. The wizard groaned and tried to move his arms and 
legs. His arm brushed against the bottle of Roonma that had rolled out 
of the backpack after the impact. The wizard lifted his face from the 
leathery backpack and eyed the bottle curiously.  Arcas remembered the 
one-thing dragons yearned for, and that was treasure. When it came to 
reaching a dragon's foul heart, treasure was superior to any forged 
weapon or any potent spell. Arcas realized they were trying to defeat 
this dragon from the wrong angle. Time was running out. The wizard 
grabbed the bottle. 

"Dragon! " Arcas called, holding the bottle up high for the dragon to
see. 

"Dragon!" Arcas called more loudly. 

This time the dragon heard him and ceased his torrent fighting. He
cocked his head sideways to get a better view. 

"What trickery is this, wizard!" the dragon roared. 

Arcas swooned as he lifted himself off the floor. However, he managed to
keep his composure. He saw Eric within the dragon's grasp. He had to 
convince the dragon to release him. 

"It is Roonma, dragon." Arcas said, and he glanced over at Flannigan for
reassurance of the item's history. "Created by the elves centuries 
ago," he continued, "and it would be a worthy addition to your existing 
treasure. " 

"Go on!" the dragon prompted. 

Arcas swallowed hard. He was not sure how to continue." King's would
give up their crowns for a sip. " Arcas remembered. "King's would 
travel from all reaches to fight you for such a treasure." 

" And die trying! " the dragon added. 

Arcas knew he was slowly winning this mental battle. Dragons were easily
manipulated by the prospect of treasure and the promise of more 
forthcoming. 

" And there is more than just this one bottle." Arcas continued. "I know
where more can be found for your claiming. " 

The dragon snarled suspiciously. "Do not play me for a fool, wizard! My
wisdom surpasses that of the oldest mage. I have seen this trick 
before." 

"But this is no trick." Arcas lied. "I shall give you this bottle plus
the treasures in my own vault in the cellar of my stronghold. Just 
release the ranger and I will give you everything including my own 
life." 

"Father! Don't! "Eric grunted as he struggled to free himself. 

The dragon tightened his grip on Eric and cocked his horned head in
confusion. He had never heard such a statement before. "All of you 
shall receive no mercy from me, so why give me such knowledge?" 

Arcas's plan seemed to be failing. His son was still locked firm in the
dragon's talons. Flannigan was trying to sneak over to Eric, but his 
progress was slow. Time was running out. 

"I have tried to beat you and failed," Arcas answered. "I bow to your
superiority and accept my death. You deserve all the treasure I can 
give you. It is a privilege for me to give a magnificent creature such 
information along with my life. Just spare everyone else." 

Arcas also knew dragons were susceptible to flattery, and he hoped his
efforts would distract the beast long enough for Flannigan to reach 
Eric. The dragon snarled proudly, and Arcas continued to flatter the 
beast. 

"Smell the wonderful scents of your newly discovered treasure, oh great
dragon." Arcas cooed as he popped the cork from the bottle. 

The dragon sniffed noisily and his nostrils flared when the sweet aromas
wafted gently into them. The dragon moaned contentedly and began to 
loosen his grip on Eric. Arcas was convinced he had won the dragon 
over, subdued him with his cleverness. He smiled proudly. He may have 
failed at creating an incredible potion, but he had just outsmarted a 
dragon, despite the consequences of potential death. 

However, disaster struck. Several arrowheads slipped off of Flannigan's
bandolier as he tiptoed towards Eric. They exploded loudly as they hit 
the ground. The half-elf dove out of harm's way, but the dragon was 
warned. 

"Fools!" the dragon screamed. "Fools!!" 

Arcas went limp. The bottle slipped from his fingers and rolled at his
feet. His heart sunk and pure weakness enveloped his soul. He had 
failed. He closed his eyes and waited for death. 

"Foolish wizard!" the dragon shrieked as he reared back and flapped his
leathery wings. "You will deceive me no more." 

Arcas bowed helplessly as the dragon's jaw rushed towards him. However,
the jaws never struck. The unbearable pain of teeth slashing into his 
body was never felt. A pale green light emanated from the bottle of 
Roonma. Mist spewed from the opening and formed a protective wall 
between Arcas and the dragon. Ghostly images of great elven warriors 
multiplied within the swirling mist and attacked the dragon with force. 
The mist slithered around the dragon from all sides. The ghostly 
warriors freed Eric and subdued the frightened dragon. 

Arcas opened his eyes and to his surprise the dragon was tumbling across
the chamber, hurled by the ghostly mist. The dragon slammed into the 
wall. A cloud of dirt and dust rolled through the chamber blinding and 
choking the wizard. When the dust settled the wizard looked around 
incredulously. As quick as the mist and ghostly warriors appeared, they 
had disappeared. He turned in quick circles looking for an answer. Then 
he nearly fell over in disbelief when he discovered the bottle was the 
source. 

Arcas remembered what the voices within his dream had told him. "At your
weakest and most humble moment, you will find the strength of a 
thousand warriors" Arcas picked up the bottle and looked at it 
incredulously. 

"Father!" rejoiced Eric. He stumbled over to his father and embraced
him. "You are alive!" 

"Yes, Eric, in more ways than you can imagine." proclaimed Arcas. The
two embraced for what seemed like an eternity. 

Flannigan staggered over to meet Eric and hand him the ebony lance.
"Don't mind me," he said sarcastically. The three shared a hardy laugh 
and Arcas and Eric invited Flannigan into their embrace. 

"Well, friends, at least that bottle served some purpose besides
collecting dust." Flannigan interjected as he tossed the cork from the 
bottle back to Arcas. 

Arcas smiled and put the cork back in the bottle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

That afternoon they lifted the dragon's carcass onto the wagon with some
pulleys and rope, and a little of Arcas's magic. Eric smiled at his 
father as he secured the dragon under a large cover. Arcas returned the 
smile. Not only would the defeat of the dragon bring them some local 
fame and riches, but also it initiated the mending of a relationship 
between father and son. Arcas knew the latter was more important. 


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