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Spring, 1375
“Pizzaro’s Ragged Legion is storming through the Corioli Piedmont. They have sacked Milkis and Donelson. At Manor Hill they tortured and slaughtered everyone they could find, men, women and children. And they are heading our way.”
Logan read the messages from Liza aloud. The crowd of townsfolk before him was silent.
It was bad.
Pizzaro’s force of renegades were the most dangerous threat to the land in a whole generation.
Everyone knew the stories: the last organized remnants of the original Ragged Legion years before, a shadow of the original mercenary army with few if any survivors from the force originally raised to fight Tulusculum, it had mutated into something more heinous: Pizzaro's army was more violent, bloodthirsty, and cruel, reveling in savagery and sadism. The unit's commander, the deserter Hernando Pizzaro was capable but an infamously cruel leader, holding his motley force together with an iron fist and torturing and slaughtering anyone that lay between him and the potential of gold, pleasure and violence. Having long since forsaken any cause or objective and knowing that the only future for him lay at the blade or noose, the Ardean thrived on plunder and devastation and attracted desperate, like-minded individuals. Together, the legion had burned a swath through Ardea, Tulusculum, and Corioli, sacking three-hundred villages and towns, destroying a thousand farms and three armies sent to oppose them, and had robbed, raped and slaughtered thousands.
And now they were headed to Stanton.
“How many are there?” Someone asked.
Rabia frowned. “Perhaps seven hundred.”
“We successfully defended Stanton against rebels nearly ten times that amount-” Someone began.
Logan interrupted. “-when we had five times the militia we have now. When the Red Plague hadn’t killed off a third of our town. When we still had the Guest Families with us. When I still had comrades and veterans I knew I could trust. When I was still young. When I still was friends with a dragon.”
The crowd was silent.
“We can restore the fortifications and stock up on weapons and supplies.” Rabia pointed out.
The townsfolk muttered without enthusiasm. They all looked at their Forester.
Everyone still counted on him.
Everyone wanted to count on him.
Even when he could no longer count on himself.
Logan closed his eyes for a long minute.
“Alright. I will swallow my pride and try once more. I will seek help from the dragon.”
“Please.” Someone interjected.
The Forester of Stanton felt only disappointment. They remembered the Guardian. They remembered the rescues. They believed in the Guardian.
They had acted rashly, trying to twist things for their own benefit, taking what had been built up in the past for granted, assuming that the protector would be always there in case something went wrong.
And now that the little games had fallen to pieces, they ran back, seeking the protection of the truce they had failed to properly honor.
Logan noticed his fists were clenched. He also noticed some individuals among the crowd noticing. The old Forester consciously relaxed his palms.
Stanton no longer deserved protection, but they were still his people, his family, friends and neighbors. Logan no longer felt a formal bond of duty for the town, but for the sake of those he cared about, he would make one more attempt.
All those thoughts raced through his mind, but all he said was:
“I will try. But I cannot make any promises this time.”
***
The Forester took the old familiar route up to the top of Mount Rubinox, a path he had taken hundreds of times in the past. Once it had meant enthusiasm and adventure, hope that wrongs could be righted, the promise of a new and better future to strive for. Now Logan slowly ascended with dread, not knowing what awaited him on top.
After a slow, exhausting climb, the Forester finally reached the stone platform.
The bronze dragon was there waiting for him. The wyrm had obviously sensed his approach.
Having not seen his companion in some time, the Forester was stunned at his old comrade’s appearance. Meratezatgh was ever more massive, towering over the Forester, yet at the same time he seemed smaller, worn and battered, like a former soldier in a worn overcoat now too large for him. The scars from their times together were readily apparent; innumerable cuts and arrow punctures, the dreadful tear on his arm, the ugly gash on his belly, the stump on his left paw. Even Mera’s scales seemed faded and worn.
But the biggest change was in his eyes. Formerly sharp and agile, Mera's eyes seemed dulled and listless, reflecting wariness, suspicion and anger.
Finally there was an overarching sense of sadness.
For a long time the two old friends simply stared silently at each other.
Finally Logan summoned the courage to speak.
“Mera.”
“What do you want?” The dragon grumbled, a low ominous growl.
“Are you alright?”
“No.” The dragon slowly shook his head. “Do you expect me to just get over the death of my mate?”
“No, no. Again, I’m sorry. I can’t really make it up to you-”
“You can’t. Now why are you here.” The wyrm seemed to be barely restraining himself.
Logan took a deep breath.
“Well, Stanton is being threatened by the forces of the Ragged Legion, who-”
“YOU ARE STILL ASKING FOR MY HELP!!?? YOU REALLY EXPECT ME TO HELP AFTER WHAT HAPPENED? WHERE WERE YOU WHEN MY MATE WAS KILLED BY YOUR DAMMED SON?!!!”
Logan was blown back by the fury. The wyrm stuck his head down and roared at the human like a volcano. Breath reeking of fire and sulfur pushed him like a strong gale and the simmer of heat dried his skin. It had been decades since the dragon had spoken like that to him.
But the dragon didn’t kill him.
Logan waited for the dragon's fury to subside, then continued.
“I can only plead to you now, I can’t-”
“Humans never keep their end of the bargain!” Mera snapped. “Someone once told me that you humans had short memories and would soon tire of my people and turn against us. He was right.”
“But-”
The dragon was ranting, staring aimlessly around in agitation, not truly even focusing on the Forester.
“I thought I was human. I took your awards and their titles like one of your heroes. I thought that if I could keep an understanding between our peoples that peace would last forever and everyone could live happily.”
The dragon focused back on Logan, his eyes narrowed like a snake’s, fire gleaming within its chatoyancy. “I was deluded. Why did I ever defend you people? I am a dragon, I am a force of nature; I am destruction, I am death. Your people see me as a monster and give my kind no mercy; I can no longer give any in return.” The words came out like ice.
“Fight your own damned wars.” The dragon finished. “I’m giving you a favor, due to the long relationship between us in the past, by telling you to leave my home before I kill you.”
Logan bore the criticism silently. He expected as much.
“I'm sorry it has come to this.” The Forester finally replied. It wasn't a criticism or dismissal, just a quiet statement about the reality of the world.
Mera breathed deeply, gradually calming himself back down. The dragon seemed to deflate a little, his anger replaced by sadness.
“I’m sorry as well.” Mera finally stated. “But it cannot be undone. What has been destroyed cannot be repaired.” The dragon bowed his head. “Goodbye Logan Durham. If there are Heavens above the skies, and higher planes of existence, then I might be able to forgive you and your race within them. But not in this one.”
Despite himself, the Forester took a few steps forward, giving Mera a knowing pat on the forearm. The dragon tensed at his companion's approach, but finally accepted the gesture.
“Goodbye Meratezatgh, may you find peace again someday.” Logan exclaimed, before changing to Draconic. *May you forever fly above the fickle winds and changing tides.*
The Forester then turned and left Mera’s cave for the last time. The dragon silently watched Logan disappear into the brightness outside, knowing that his former friend would never return. Then with a sigh the dragon turned back to the dark embrace of his cave.
Third Eye Blind - How's It Going To Be
From
Chickenzaur
“Pizzaro’s Ragged Legion is storming through the Corioli Piedmont. They have sacked Milkis and Donelson. At Manor Hill they tortured and slaughtered everyone they could find, men, women and children. And they are heading our way.”
Logan read the messages from Liza aloud. The crowd of townsfolk before him was silent.
It was bad.
Pizzaro’s force of renegades were the most dangerous threat to the land in a whole generation.
Everyone knew the stories: the last organized remnants of the original Ragged Legion years before, a shadow of the original mercenary army with few if any survivors from the force originally raised to fight Tulusculum, it had mutated into something more heinous: Pizzaro's army was more violent, bloodthirsty, and cruel, reveling in savagery and sadism. The unit's commander, the deserter Hernando Pizzaro was capable but an infamously cruel leader, holding his motley force together with an iron fist and torturing and slaughtering anyone that lay between him and the potential of gold, pleasure and violence. Having long since forsaken any cause or objective and knowing that the only future for him lay at the blade or noose, the Ardean thrived on plunder and devastation and attracted desperate, like-minded individuals. Together, the legion had burned a swath through Ardea, Tulusculum, and Corioli, sacking three-hundred villages and towns, destroying a thousand farms and three armies sent to oppose them, and had robbed, raped and slaughtered thousands.
And now they were headed to Stanton.
“How many are there?” Someone asked.
Rabia frowned. “Perhaps seven hundred.”
“We successfully defended Stanton against rebels nearly ten times that amount-” Someone began.
Logan interrupted. “-when we had five times the militia we have now. When the Red Plague hadn’t killed off a third of our town. When we still had the Guest Families with us. When I still had comrades and veterans I knew I could trust. When I was still young. When I still was friends with a dragon.”
The crowd was silent.
“We can restore the fortifications and stock up on weapons and supplies.” Rabia pointed out.
The townsfolk muttered without enthusiasm. They all looked at their Forester.
Everyone still counted on him.
Everyone wanted to count on him.
Even when he could no longer count on himself.
Logan closed his eyes for a long minute.
“Alright. I will swallow my pride and try once more. I will seek help from the dragon.”
“Please.” Someone interjected.
The Forester of Stanton felt only disappointment. They remembered the Guardian. They remembered the rescues. They believed in the Guardian.
They had acted rashly, trying to twist things for their own benefit, taking what had been built up in the past for granted, assuming that the protector would be always there in case something went wrong.
And now that the little games had fallen to pieces, they ran back, seeking the protection of the truce they had failed to properly honor.
Logan noticed his fists were clenched. He also noticed some individuals among the crowd noticing. The old Forester consciously relaxed his palms.
Stanton no longer deserved protection, but they were still his people, his family, friends and neighbors. Logan no longer felt a formal bond of duty for the town, but for the sake of those he cared about, he would make one more attempt.
All those thoughts raced through his mind, but all he said was:
“I will try. But I cannot make any promises this time.”
***
The Forester took the old familiar route up to the top of Mount Rubinox, a path he had taken hundreds of times in the past. Once it had meant enthusiasm and adventure, hope that wrongs could be righted, the promise of a new and better future to strive for. Now Logan slowly ascended with dread, not knowing what awaited him on top.
After a slow, exhausting climb, the Forester finally reached the stone platform.
The bronze dragon was there waiting for him. The wyrm had obviously sensed his approach.
Having not seen his companion in some time, the Forester was stunned at his old comrade’s appearance. Meratezatgh was ever more massive, towering over the Forester, yet at the same time he seemed smaller, worn and battered, like a former soldier in a worn overcoat now too large for him. The scars from their times together were readily apparent; innumerable cuts and arrow punctures, the dreadful tear on his arm, the ugly gash on his belly, the stump on his left paw. Even Mera’s scales seemed faded and worn.
But the biggest change was in his eyes. Formerly sharp and agile, Mera's eyes seemed dulled and listless, reflecting wariness, suspicion and anger.
Finally there was an overarching sense of sadness.
For a long time the two old friends simply stared silently at each other.
Finally Logan summoned the courage to speak.
“Mera.”
“What do you want?” The dragon grumbled, a low ominous growl.
“Are you alright?”
“No.” The dragon slowly shook his head. “Do you expect me to just get over the death of my mate?”
“No, no. Again, I’m sorry. I can’t really make it up to you-”
“You can’t. Now why are you here.” The wyrm seemed to be barely restraining himself.
Logan took a deep breath.
“Well, Stanton is being threatened by the forces of the Ragged Legion, who-”
“YOU ARE STILL ASKING FOR MY HELP!!?? YOU REALLY EXPECT ME TO HELP AFTER WHAT HAPPENED? WHERE WERE YOU WHEN MY MATE WAS KILLED BY YOUR DAMMED SON?!!!”
Logan was blown back by the fury. The wyrm stuck his head down and roared at the human like a volcano. Breath reeking of fire and sulfur pushed him like a strong gale and the simmer of heat dried his skin. It had been decades since the dragon had spoken like that to him.
But the dragon didn’t kill him.
Logan waited for the dragon's fury to subside, then continued.
“I can only plead to you now, I can’t-”
“Humans never keep their end of the bargain!” Mera snapped. “Someone once told me that you humans had short memories and would soon tire of my people and turn against us. He was right.”
“But-”
The dragon was ranting, staring aimlessly around in agitation, not truly even focusing on the Forester.
“I thought I was human. I took your awards and their titles like one of your heroes. I thought that if I could keep an understanding between our peoples that peace would last forever and everyone could live happily.”
The dragon focused back on Logan, his eyes narrowed like a snake’s, fire gleaming within its chatoyancy. “I was deluded. Why did I ever defend you people? I am a dragon, I am a force of nature; I am destruction, I am death. Your people see me as a monster and give my kind no mercy; I can no longer give any in return.” The words came out like ice.
“Fight your own damned wars.” The dragon finished. “I’m giving you a favor, due to the long relationship between us in the past, by telling you to leave my home before I kill you.”
Logan bore the criticism silently. He expected as much.
“I'm sorry it has come to this.” The Forester finally replied. It wasn't a criticism or dismissal, just a quiet statement about the reality of the world.
Mera breathed deeply, gradually calming himself back down. The dragon seemed to deflate a little, his anger replaced by sadness.
“I’m sorry as well.” Mera finally stated. “But it cannot be undone. What has been destroyed cannot be repaired.” The dragon bowed his head. “Goodbye Logan Durham. If there are Heavens above the skies, and higher planes of existence, then I might be able to forgive you and your race within them. But not in this one.”
Despite himself, the Forester took a few steps forward, giving Mera a knowing pat on the forearm. The dragon tensed at his companion's approach, but finally accepted the gesture.
“Goodbye Meratezatgh, may you find peace again someday.” Logan exclaimed, before changing to Draconic. *May you forever fly above the fickle winds and changing tides.*
The Forester then turned and left Mera’s cave for the last time. The dragon silently watched Logan disappear into the brightness outside, knowing that his former friend would never return. Then with a sigh the dragon turned back to the dark embrace of his cave.
Third Eye Blind - How's It Going To Be
From
Chickenzaur
Category Artwork (Traditional) / Fantasy
Species Western Dragon
Size 3529 x 2349px
File Size 1.99 MB
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