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Father entered his study, carrying what supplies he could with one arm. The other arm, shriveled from an accident, could be used for simple task, but carrying objects wasn’t one of its functions. It was more like a stick than an arm. It prevented him from holding a sword, but it hadn’t stopped him from becoming the leader of Dragon hold.
Like all the rooms in Dragon hold, the study was dark. Rows of candles on top of shelves and a few hanging lamps fought the darkness pitifully. By this faint flickering light, he could make out a figure standing in front of a central table cluttered with vials, parchment, and books.
His face shifted from a scowl to a grin when he realized who it was: young Davion was looking at one of the books he'd left open. He wasn’t supposed to touch anything he hadn’t been asked to clean, sort, or move. Any other page he would have scolded, but he had a special affection for this boy. He was bright and a hard worker. He had a determination that came from a rare blend of pain and hope. Despite his sorrow, he was quick to joke or smile. Such spirit was needed in dark halls such as these.
Davion squinted at the words. He wasn’t snooping, quite contrary, his thirst for revenge was fed with knowledge, and he wanted to know everything about dragons and how to be a Dragon Knight. His brow knotted as he studied the words and pictures.
“What are you looking at Davi?” Father asked though he already knew. It was ancient text. Old ideas but new thoughts in these halls: ideas about humans with dragon traits. He doubted Davion understood any of this. His focus was on the image of a dragon. He put his good hand on his shoulder. Davion tensed with surprise, but within a moment he relaxed. He looked up at Father to confirm he was not in trouble.
“Ember dragon,” Father said, “Like the one you saw in your village.”
Davion lowered his gaze back to the drawing, his shoulders shuddered with a proud yet futile attempt not to cry. Like the one that killed his family. A tear dripped onto the page, betraying him, but Father pretended not to see for his sake. He swiped the tear from the page before it could bleed the ink and pointed to the writing.
“These are the dragon’s strengths and attributes,” he explained, “but these are his weaknesses.”
A smile slowly replaced the boy’s frown and he grinned up at Father with determination. Father felt some paternal warmth fill his chest like a breath. This boy, with any luck, would be its weakness. He returned his hand to his shoulder, guiding him away from the book. There were things he was not ready to see. Things no one would understand, not even a bright boy like him.
Davion walked with him looking ahead and sometimes at Father. It had been a long time since he’d stared at his shriveled arm. He’d gotten that out of the way a long time ago. New pages always stared at it. He was patient with that. He expected it. The effect and curiosity always wore off eventually.
Torches lit small sections of the hall and braziers provided little heat and even less light. But they both knew their way by heart.
“Do you need help, Father?”
“No, they are serving dinner in the hall.”
“Is it that late? I have to serve the Knights.”
Father chuckled. “You also need to eat.”
Davion shook his head. The boy fed off his admiration for them. Davion’s shoulder almost pulled out of Father’s hand as his pace quickened. He struggled to keep the slow pace of the older man. Ah, patience was a lesson mastered only with time and proper aging.
At the entrance of the Great Hall, he stopped him, facing him. If only he had two hands to put on his shoulders.
“You’ve been here seven years now. You’re fourteen years of age. You've been an excellent page, Davi.” Father’s voice choked on his own emotion for a moment. He cleared his throat and continued. “Your time as page is ending. It is time for you to become a squire.”
Davion’s face was a cross between serious and excited.
“I’m ready.” He clenched his fist. “Who will I squire for?”
This he could not answer. Not just yet.
“There are a few knights in need of squires at the moment, but there is one in particular I’d like to consider you.” He searched for Kaden but couldn’t find him. Not surprising. But he knew where to find him.
He excused himself and went to the armory. The forge-men were cutting away at the scales of a dragon: a void dragon, a recent kill. A man stood nearby: Kaden. He had a look that could only be described as serious, because he was always serious. He hadn’t always been a brooding man. He was once lighthearted: quick to laugh and good with a joke. Men loved him and women too it turned out. He’d had a lover not too long ago. No, it had been over ten years. Ten years since he’d been branded by fire: changed forever by his first experience with an Eldwurm.
“Father,” Kaden said curtly with a nod.
“A void dragon,” he said admirably.
"Two more to go,” he said, eyebrows furrowing.
Father nodded. Two more types before he’d slain one of every type of dragon. Every dragon he killed helped him equip himself to kill the next one. Blade by blade, piece by piece, they had forged him into the weapon he had to become.
Kaden’s armor set was made from the remains of each dragon he killed. This allowed him to use their elemental powers. His cuirass was ember; his gauntlets, earth dragon. The strength of his armor shielded him against his much larger, stronger opponents, but it wasn’t enough to be able to block the dragon’s attacks. While these enhancements could not be dismissed, he needed to be more than just as strong as a Dragon, he needed to move like one. For this, he had created his air dragon boots. These were his latest creation, and they amplified his speed and allowed him flight.
Stepping forward Father touched the corpse of the void dragon. With this, he would forge a sword that would allow Kaden to fight bigger opponents. If he succeeded, next he would kill a chaos dragon. With that, Father would make him a cuirass to give him speed and teleportation. Soon Kaden would possess every dragon ability, making him the greatest dragon hunter that ever lived. At last, he’d be able to kill any dragon. But Kaden was not after just any dragon, just one: Slyrak.
His hand lingered on the dragon corpse. Yes, this would do nicely. So much potential. The images from his books came to mind. Humans: so limited. If only they were more powerful … if only he was. No dragon armor could compensate for some of their innate vulnerabilities. Some abilities they could not steal: the ability to heal wounds, to regenerate. He clenched his fist as he stared at his diminished arm.
“The sword: Can it be done?”
“Anything can be done,” Father said.
The corners of Kaden’s mustache rose with what could be called a smile, making him look pleased in addition to serious.
“How long?”
Father took a moment to consider. “A few weeks perhaps. Will you be here long enough for it to be finished?”
Kaden glanced from his ember dragon cuirass to the dead dragon. He was already planning the next kill, his mind far from Dragon Hold.
“Slyrak isn’t going anywhere,” Father reassured him. “While you are here … other than a sword, there is something else that could help you with your quest.”
Kaden froze with anticipation.
“Come,” he said and headed toward the Great Hall once again, trusting Kaden to follow.
Long tables lined the hall. Columns with torches barely lit the room. At the tables, men, women, and orcs drank and talked. Their indistinct chatter quieted when Kaden entered. Faces rose from their cups. Some nodded a greeting while others scowled. He wasn’t seen often. Just here long enough to haul carcasses in and carry weapons out.
Father spotted Davion polishing boots and pouring cups. He stood behind him while he polished a father’s boots. He waited for him to rise. Sensing someone behind him, Davion rose and smiled when he saw Father, but his mouth dropped opened when he saw Kaden. Father knew how the boy would react. Kaden was a legend, his hero. But he wasn’t sure if Kaden knew the boy.
“This is Davion.”
At his name, Davion straightened up.
“You know Kaden.”
“You’ve killed almost every type of dragon,” he said impressed. “All on your own too.”
“That’s right,” Kaden said.
“You’re the greatest Dragon Knight that ever lived.” The boy beamed. He filled him a cup and Kaden took it reluctantly.
“Davion is ready to be a squire,” Father said, watching Kaden’s reaction from the corner of his eyes.
“I’m ready,” Davion said, eagerly. “I’m ready to hunt dragons.”
“As squire,” Father reminded him. “You won’t be doing that just yet. Mostly cooking, polishing armor, accompanying your knight.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’re an eager one,” Kaden said. Almost chuckled.
Father grinned. Davi had a determination to match Kaden’s.
“I want to kill them … all of them,” Davion said. The bridge of his nose knotted, and his hands clenched at his side. This did not go unnoticed by either man.
“Dragons killed your family … Know the look …” Kaden said.
Davion nodded, not speaking. He swallowed hard and gripped his dragon-fang necklace. He was still a boy after all.
“An ember dragon.” Father said pointedly.
Kaden’s eyebrows rose just slightly.
“He is a bright, skilled boy.” continued Father. “A good learner and, as you said, very eager. He’ll make an excellent squire.”
“I’m sure he will.” Kaden grunted and turned to head back toward the armory without another word.
“Kaden.” Father didn’t have to yell, the echo off the stones carried his voice to him.
“Yes, father?”
“The boy would make an excellent squire.”
“I’m sure he will.”
“For you.”
Kaden stopped at last. His sigh echoed through the hall. The harshness of his features were deepened by the shadows.
“Not me. Don’t need a fucking squire. Slow me down.”
“I think you could help him, Kaden … I think he could help you.”
“I fight big bastards. He’ll get in the way. Get killed.” His jaw clenched.
Father could not give up so easily. The mutual benefit to boy and man spurned him on.
“One man came back from Leathsham, but that does not mean one man must face Slyrak on his own.”
Kaden glowered. “It’s my debt.”
“Davion has his own debts. Both of your lives were destroyed by ember dragons. He shares your hate, your thirst for revenge, for justice. You can show him the way. He can help you defeat Slyrak.”
“He’s only a boy.”
“That boy is more than a boy.” His voice rose and it carried down the hall. Kaden’s stubbornness was testing even his limits.
He gathered his thoughts in the silence that followed. The hammers of the forge-men rang off the stones as they created more tools, more weapons, more armor. His thoughts from earlier revisited him about human weakness and vulnerability. Kaden could cover himself with the best dragon armor and possess every attribute of all eight species, but beneath the armor were the same weaknesses. Some strengths did not come from armor or from weapons. Some were innate, rarer even than the dragon traits theorized to be in the blood, and stronger than dragon scales. Davi had those strengths. He had a good heart and was driven by love more than hate. Much like Kaden once was. He frowned. When Davi faced his first Eldwurm, he hoped it would not change him as it had Kaden. Perhaps if he didn’t face it alone.
“When you find Slyrak, Davion may be a man. He can help you more than anything I can forge.”
Kaden stared at the dead dragon.
“Greater than tools of dragon scale is a brother made of human flesh,” Father said. “Humans have their own powers too. Without them, this armor, these weapons would be useless.”
Kaden watched the forge fires a moment longer before turning on his heel and heading back to the Great Hall.
Father followed him, but Kaden's long strides left him far behind. When he entered the Hall, he found Kaden standing before Davion.
“You hate those sons of bitches.” Kaden said, He waited for Davion to meet his gaze before continuing. “So do I. Your time will come. That bastard will wish he hadn't killed your family.”
Davion nodded, determined, his jaw clenched tightly.
“You have promise,” Kaden said, gripping his shoulder before leaving the hall without another word to the boy or to his brothers and sisters in Dragon Hold.
Father watched Davion as Kaden left. The boy looked more inspired than discouraged at least, considering his hopes of being Kaden’s squire had been dashed. Kaden had chosen to be alone. The day would come though when he would need the aid of his brothers.
Davion went back to filling cups. Several knights watched him with interest. One of them would take him as a squire. It was all for the best, Father mused, now questioning his own judgement. They would teach him the ways of brotherhood. How to rely on each other. How to work together. Sometimes it took ten or twenty knights to bring down a dragon. Dragons didn’t work together like people. That was a dragon weakness and a human strength: a strength Kaden didn’t have. Kaden fought like a dragon: with strength and speed but alone, always alone.
It would take more than Kaden to kill all the dragons—to kill Slyrak. Davion he thought, could kill them all. Davion, he believed, could do so much more.