Chapter One

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Chapter One

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The dragon called himself Revaramek the Resplendent. Revaramek because it was the name his mother gave him, and Resplendent because even for a dragon, he knew he was especially magnificent. His emerald scales glittered in the sun, while the markings across his limbs and vast wings shone like copper fire. Yes, he was a beautiful creature, and everyone knew it because he was always telling them.

Fittingly for such a regal beast, Revaramek ruled over a great domain. Savoring the warmth of the sun upon his wings, he soared above the lands he’d heroically conquered in his youth. A blanket of verdant forest and marshland spread out beneath him in all directions, and all of it was his. Even the collections of sticks and mud the humans called villages were held in his rule. After all, he knew his subjects understood who was in charge.

The great green dragon, that’s who.

Revaramek dipped a wing, banking in a lazy circle to survey his lands. The dragon flew at the very edge of his abilities, high enough that the air that filled his great lungs was bracing and cold. Hot blood pumped by his powerful heart and the sun’s heat kept his sensitive wing membranes warm. Translucent membranes protected his eyes from the biting wind. It was a beautiful day to try and touch the clear blue sky, to reach for the edge of existence. Failing at that, it was also a lovely day to lord himself over his lands and subjects.

A sudden, painful rumble gnawed at Revaramek’s belly. The dragon flattened his spiny frills. That damn deer he’d accepted from that gracious hunter had gone right through him. Scrawny thing was all gristle. He should have eaten the hunter, too. Revaramek pulled his wings in, scanning the ground as he descended. His stomach growled again, and soon he spotted a suitable feeding area where a solitary herder tended livestock.

Time to a strike a little fear in the hearts of men. Or, at least, a man.
With his destination in sight, Revaramek descended in a sharp spiral. A ramshackle house build of logs and sticks with a thatched reed roof stuck out from the top of a grassy hill. Uneven lines of willow-boughs fenced off the rest of the hill from the marsh beyond. A few dozen shaggy sheep wandered aimlessly about their pen, unaware of the terrifying majesty descending upon them. They baaed and grazed while they herder prodded them with a stick.

As Revaramek swept in over the marsh, he resisted the urge to announce his arrival with an earth-shaking roar. No sense scaring his meals. Fear made the meat taste bitter. He back-winged to slow his descent, then dropped onto the mossy earth hind-paws first. He touched his forepaws down and trotted a few steps to the trail that lead to the hill. The herder shooed his nervous flock back towards the buildings, then walked up to the fence.

 “Greetings, subject!” Raveramek’s voice was brassy and proud. “I am Revaramek The Resplendent!”

“I know who ya are.” The old man wiped his hands against his dirty brown clothes.

“Of course you do.” Though pleased by the recognition, Revaramek was a little dismayed by the old man’s apparent lack of fear. “Since you are not trembling at my arrival, you must know that I am your benevolent ruler.”

The herder snorted, and spat on the ground.

That wasn’t exactly the response Revaramek was looking for. Then again, benevolence wasn’t really his thing. It hardly suited a dragon, but it did make things go smoother with the peasants. Or perhaps the man was just ignorant. Benevolent was an awfully big word for a marsh-dwelling old dirt farmer.

“You see, benevolent means…” He trailed off as the man just stared at him. The old coot’s face was so weathered the dragon wondered how he’d ever get all the dirt out of those wrinkle-valleys. “Aren’t you a gnarled old bastard.”

The old man leaned against a pole in the ground, glaring at the dragon. At least, Ravarmek thought he was glaring. With a face that haggard it was difficult to be sure.

“No matter. I’m sure you’re just happy to bask in my presence. I’ve come to fill my belly, and so I shall require some of your…” Revaramek lifted his horned head, gazing across the sloped pasture. A dozen or so small brown and white animals milled about, bleating. Those weren’t the sheep he’d expected. “What are those?”

“Pygmy goats.” The grizzled codger cleared his throat, and spat again.

Revaramek wasn’t sure which baffled him more. That fact that someone would raise pygmy goats, or the fact they existed in the first place. He pinned his frills back and gave a long sigh. “Fine, fine. I require a donation of your finest…” He grit his teeth. “Pygmy goats.”

“T’aint yers.” The wrinkles deepened across the herder’s face. “Now git.”

The dragon bristled, his spiny frills flaring around his head. “Excuse me?” He curled his long emerald tail, and flexed it to show off the spikes that tipped it, and the sharp-edged webbing between them. “Who are you to deny the ruler of these lands-”

“T’aint yer lands.”

“Of course they are!” He snarled, unfurling his wings. Then he glanced up at the sky. Wait a moment, just how far had he flown today? Maybe they weren’t his lands. He snapped his jaws, deciding it didn’t matter. “Now listen here, you insolent little worm, you bring me your pygmy goats at once, or else I’m going to incinerate…” He glanced around. Not much in range he could burn. “Your outhouse!”

“I said git! I ain’t afeered of ya!” The herder yanked on the pole he’d been leaning against, which turned out to be a rather large pitchfork stuck in the earth. “Ya might kill me, but not ‘afore I shove this here pitchfork all the way up under your tail!”

Now that didn’t sound pleasant at all. While Revaramek had no doubt he could slay the man long before he got anywhere near his tail, this was all becoming far too much work. With a snarl, he launched himself back into the air off his powerful hind legs. The burst of air from his magnificent wings knocked the old man onto his ass.

“You shan’t be shoving that pitchfork or anything else under my tail today!” Wait. That didn’t come out right. “Or…ever!”

As the herder struggled back to his feet, Revaramek circled his hill. He had half a mind to eat the old bastard on principal alone. Given the look of the old man, the consequences wouldn’t be worth it. He could deal with knights, but he’d rather not spend a few days with a horrible case of the runs. The dragon took a deep breath, his plated chest expanding. With a roar, he squeezed his fire glands and spat a stream of roiling flame across the small, rectangular building on the edge of the pasture.

In an instant, the outhouse erupted in red-orange flame. Just as fast, the scent of burning excrement filled the air. Revaramek scrunched his nose, pinning his ears back. That smell was hideous. It might not have been his finest retaliatory moment, but it wasn’t bad.

The dragon cackled as he flew up the hill. A bit of mayhem was always so much fun. “Enjoy that pungent aroma, you pug-faced old goblin!”

“Go screw yerself, Dragon!”

“That’s anatomically impossible!” Nearing the top of the hill, Revaramek glanced back at the furious man and the flaming latrine. Curls of greasy smoke stained the sky. “But if you’ve got a few eager maidens lying around--”

CRACK!

With a tremendous crash, the dragon smashed directly into the side of the herder’s house. Rickety wood exploded all around him as the building shattered and he exploded out the other side. Pain thudded through the dragon. He hit the ground and rolled a few times, skidding through the grass. For a moment, he lay sprawled in the earth amidst an ocean of splinters, unsure what happened. The dragon panted, his ears rang. When he collected himself he rolled over and onto his paws. His limbs wobbled and he stumbled back and forth before he caught his balance. Though he ached just about everywhere, a quick stretch of his limbs and wings revealed no serious injuries.  

The dragon gazed back at his wings. A multitude of blooded scratches marked their beautiful green and copper surface. He stretched them to try and ease their throbbing, his frills flared in pain. Grimacing, Revaramek tested and flexed his paws, then turned towards the home he’d just demolished. Only a few walls still stood. Shredded thatch was scattered everywhere. Wooden plates and cups littered the floor. Revaramek hissed at the battered structure. How dare that wretched farmer put his house in such a place. At least human homes were flimsy or he might have broken his damn neck.

“My house!” The herder’s voice rose above the sound of crackling flames, bleating goats, and ringing ears. “You ruined my house! I hope those dragon-slayers neuter you, you scaly ringworm!”

“Now that’s uncalled for!” Revaramek hissed.

Revaramek shook himself, his scales clicking. What had he even come here for, again? He licked his muzzle, gazing past the fan-shaped debris field created when he blew through the back wall. A single small brown goat poked its head around a half-standing wall to nibble at a bread crust upon the floor.

“Ah, yes.” The dragon worked a kink out of his long neck. “Lunch.”

The Resplendent padded around the remnants of the house towards the herd of tiny goats. They scattered when they saw him, bleating their rightful terror. The dragon snorted, glad at least something here was afraid of him. He bound a few paces and leapt into the air, beating his wings. As he hurtled over the goats, he unsheathed his claws and snatched one of the animals in a forepaw. It flailed its little legs as he ascended and gave a horrible, shrieking bleat. So he bit off its head. Small as the goat was, it was barely more than a snack. When he saw the farmer below, Revaramek couldn’t resist the urge to the goat’s head at him. The farmer toppled over in his attempt to avoid it, and rolled down the hill.

Cackling in glee, the dragon ascended in a lopsided circle. Foul smoke from the smoldering outhouse churned beneath his wings in oily swirls. As he rose, he licked the goat’s blood from his muzzle and his paws, then worked his tongue against his teeth to dislodge a hoof stuck between fangs before it grew too irritating.

As the sounds of increasingly disturbing insults faded, Revaramek decided he’d probably spent enough time visiting with his subjects today. He beat his wings harder, rising towards the sky again. Soon the warm, late summer air of the marsh and forest gave way to the colder, bracing air of high altitude.

At higher altitude, the dragon had to breathe a little deeper, pump his wings a little harder As a hatchling, he’d once gazed up at the azure expense, and swore to claim it for himself, just as soon as he was high enough to reach it. Even as he grew old enough to realize the impossibility of that ideal, he still wondered. What if there was something beyond the sky? What if it was like the inside of some great, blue egg? If he could breach it, what would lay beyond? Perhaps there was a whole other world out there, waiting to be discovered, claimed, and conquered.

Or perhaps he’d just flown too high.

Revaramek descended until breath came easier.

Even then, he still had an excellent view of his land as he made his way home. In the far distant, a dark haze smothered the horizon. For a moment, he thought he’d gotten disoriented and was flying back towards the goat farmer. A quick glance behind him told him otherwise. He angled his wings, banking towards the hazy smudge. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one out burning things today. After a few minutes of flight, he drew close enough to see what just what was burning. Dread tingled at the base of his frills, and ran in cold shivers down his neck.

In the far distance, a whole village was on fire.

Revaramek beat his emerald wings, accelerating. He’d been around enough villages to know they didn’t just burn themselves down. How very odd. He pumped his wings harder to ascend again and better survey the area. The village in flames did not look particularly large or important. Only a dozen or so buildings, most of which little more than smoldering wreckage. The rest were still consumed by roiling fire and pouring black smoke upon the sky.

When the winds shifted, the smoke blew towards him. Revaramek sniffed it, searching it for clues as he banked away. The scents were heavy with charred wood, burnt straw, but little in the way of seared flesh. There was something else in the smoke, some odd scent that seemed only vaguely familiar, as if he’d only smelled it in a dream. It reminded him of the way that book vender’s cart smelled when he’d set it aflame. Old and musty and lightly acrid, like burning vellum. The dragon sniffed again, and smelt only burning wood and blazing thatch. Given the way the smoke bore only a hint of overcooked meat, Revaramek thought most of the villagers must have gotten out safely.

Lucky for his subjects, he thought.

Actually, were they his subjects? He wasn’t familiar with this particular collection of flammable materials. He circled the ruined settlement, trying to get his bearings. Far to the west lay lands ruled by some humans living in a fancy stone castle. That wasn’t his. To the north lay more wild forests, abutted by the same towering red-gray mountains that hemmed in his own domain’s eastern side. Another dragon once ruled that place, and he hadn’t yet tried to press his luck there. Fly far enough south, and eventually the marshes gave way to treacherous, foul-smelling swamps. No one wanted to rule that. His mother left that land for a reason. And beyond the mountains? Out there lay a desert that may as well have been a wasteland.

Which left this little village. He’d flown further than he realized, and might well be beyond the borders of his own territory. Scanning the ground, he spotted a road cutting through the forest. The road marked an unofficial border, and the village was on the wrong side of it. That made things much easier. If the village didn’t belong to him, then it wasn’t his problem. He wouldn’t have to retaliate or investigate or any other such nonsense. He’d just let the humans solve their own problems.

Revaramek made another circle around the smoking ruin. He was still curious about just who had started the fire. They’d probably just pissed off the wrong dragon. Well, more the pity for them, he thought. They should have known better than to anger dragons. And if one of his brethren now faced an army of furious knights and self-righteous dragonslayers hunting them down to seek revenge? Revaramek tossed his head as he flew, glad that wasn’t his problem anymore.

As he circled, he cast a last glance at the village when movement caught his eye. He could have sworn he saw something down there. Though his translucent flight membranes protected his eyes from the smoke’s sting, it was still difficult to see through. Revaramek banked through the smoke, and black vortices spun off the tips of his wings. Just as he pulled around, he saw movement again out of the corner of his eye. Almost looked like some small figure, dancing amidst the ruin, beneath the smoke. But when he turned his head, he saw only ash and flame.

Snarling, Revaramek cursed his eyes for playing tricks on him. Just to be sure, he made a final circuit. If there was some drunken dwarf down there, stumbling around, he wanted to see, because that sounded funny. Unless it was a child. In which case, Revaramek supposed he’d have to actually do something about it. Surely, his subjects would appreciate him saving the life of some child trapped in fiery inferno. Ooh, he liked the sound of that. It sounded like a legend his subjects would write songs about. Maybe they’d even send him a friendly maiden or two. He liked friendly maidens.

His last pass revealed nothing of the sort. No dancing drunkards, no lost children. Just ruined homes and stables, and a few unfortunate animals too scorched to be edible.  Oh well. He was sure his subjects already had plenty of songs to sing about their resplendent overlord. And there would always been another inebriated fool falling in the mud to laugh at. Besides, all this smoke made his throat sting. He coughed and pounded his wings against the air, heading for cleaner air.

Beneath him, a line of packed earth snaked through the trees. Revaramek angled his wings, following the road for a little while. Searching the ground ahead, he spotted the telltale huddled forms of downtrodden peasants. There were at least a few dozen of them, along with a couple horses and carts. If they were refugees, maybe they could tell him who set the fire. Hell, some idiot probably knocked over a lamp. As he neared them, he descended towards the road so he could call out to them.

One of them turned around, looked up, and thrust a finger towards the sky.

“DRAGON!”

Everyone screamed and scattered. Women snatched up children and ran into the forest. Horses reared up, whinnying and fighting against their yokes. One of them bolted down the road. Packs and clothing flew out of the bouncing cart. A few men hoisted makeshift weapons, scythes and pitchforks and hammers. Another had a woodcutting axe. One man had a bow, and nocked an arrow as he backed towards the woods.

Revaramek flared his wings, pivoting away from the road. “It wasn’t me, you bloody idiots! I didn’t burn your village this time!”

The man fired his arrow anyway. It went wide, but Revaramek decided he’d had enough. “Fine, then! You can all get mounted!” He beat his wings, ascending. “By a pygmy goat!”

The dragon smiled as he flew back into his own lands. He’d certainly won that little encounter. A good, filthy insult always made him feel better. Surely it would leave their pride offended and stinging long after they’d built themselves some sort of hovel to shelter in for the night. It was a shame for them that damn fool decided to fling an arrow at his underbelly. If not for that, Revaramek might have invited them to pledge themselves to him. As his subjects, they could have ventured to one of his villages for respite. Now they’d have to build themselves another collection of mud and sticks to live in.

Revaramek pumped his wings harder. Thanks to his accident with the goat herder’s house, they were stiffening up. He angled himself southward, back towards the familiar marshes of home. He tucked his limbs up against his body as he accelerated. The dragon had a sneaking suspicion he was going to be awfully sore tomorrow. Once he got home, he’d take a nice long nap. Yes, he liked the sound of that. Such a resplendent dragon deserved a long, cozy nap in the warm sun.

But first, he had to see a farmer about some sheep.

All this mayhem made him hungry.