Chapter Seven

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Chapter Seven

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“Come along, Underling Revaramek, we’ll take you to Mirelle’s bar till she gets back.” Beka’s sing-song voice drifted down the street.

Revaramek hissed at her, pinning his ears. “You don’t get to call me that! I work for Mirelle, not for you.” When that only made Beka laugh, he snarled, realizing what he’d said. “I mean, I don’t work for anyone! I have…volunteered my support. To…whoever this council is. To be ordered to annihilate your enemies, and then be done with all of you. But I am no one’s underling!”

“Oh?” Beka glanced at him over her shoulder, her reddish-brown braids swaying. “Do you prefer the term minion?”

 “It’s a start!” Revaramek snorted, tossing his head. “Fine, if you want to use terms from the exciting tales, a minion at least implies something more powerful. Like a second in command!” He waved his paw, black claws unsheathed. “An underling is just…some servant, running errands! Or more likely, an underling is just some nameless fodder to be cut down by the hero and left to rot. A minion at least should present a challenge to the hero! An obstacle for him to overcome that presents a different sort of challenge from the villain! Or, perhaps even someone to sway to the hero’s side.”

“So that’s you, huh?” Tavaat folded his arms over his scaly chest. “The minion?”

Revaramek scrunched his muzzle as if the very idea made him want to sneeze. “Certainly not! I am no one’s underling nor minion. I am-”

“A sidekick?” Beka grinned at him, tugging a gold-hemmed sleeve.

Revaramek growled, shaking his wedge-shaped head. “No! I am not her helpful assistant, bantering with her throughout her journey.” He paused, and scratched at his long neck with a wing-tip talon. Actually, that sounded a little too close to home. “I’m not going to be pulling her out of any jams, or discovering the one important clue she missed. If anything, I’m the reluctant hero. Drawn into the conflict against my will, forced to take to my heroic wings, and save the local populace…er…heroically.”

“I don’t think dragons can be the hero in a story like that.”

“And why not?” Revaramek glared at Beka.

She waved her hand. “Because you’re always off eating people and burning things! It’s hard to write a heroic tale about a creature like that.”

“I’ll burn you.” Revaramek flared his gold-edged frills, narrowing his bronze eyes. “How’d you like me to sear that braid off your head?”

“You see?” Beka picked up her pace as if to stay out of range of his fire. “You dragons just go around threatening innocent people. That’s not heroic behavior, that’s what villains do.”

“That wasn’t a threat, it was witty repartee.” Revaramek licked his nose. Mirelle was more fun to annoy than this one. “You see, repartee means…” He trailed off. No one ever wanted to her his explanations, anyway.

Tavaat turned around, his little red frills perked in curiosity. He stared at the dragon. “Well?”

“Well what?” Revaramek gazed around. “If you’re looking for water, you don’t need a well, there’s plenty in the marsh.”

The lizard’s muzzle twisted a little. “Well, what does repartee mean?”

“Oooh!” Revaramek gave a happy croon and bounced on his paws. Finally, someone actually wished for him to impart his grand draconic wisdom upon them. “Repartee means-”

“Witty banter.” Beka flashed Tavaat a smile.

“Thanks.” The lizard went back to walking along at Beka’s side, his gray and green tail swaying behind him.

“I was going to say that!” Revaramek stomped a forepaw, lashing his tail. “It means witty banter!”

“You’re kind of a brat.” Beka giggled, and the noise grated on Revaramek’s ears. “That’s definitely minion behavior, I think. Or maybe villain-ish. Let’s see…” She ticked off a few fingers. “Outsized ego, selfish behavior, known history of attempting to conquer things, spits fire…Yes, you’d definitely be a villain.”

“Humans conquer things all the time!” Revaramek hissed, gritting his teeth. “That one’s not fair!”

Beka ignored him completely. “But you’re also sort of clumsy and bumbling.”

“I am not bumbling!” Revaramek bound a few steps, leapt into the air and beat his wings. He soared over his two guides and landed in the street before them, claws skidding against cobblestone. “I am elegant and graceful!” He turned and made a show of strutting in the smoothest way he could. Then he turned back towards them, and his tail smashed through a window. Someone screamed. Revaramek cringed, yanking his tail back. “I meant to do that! To inspire terror!”

Beka stared at him with wide eyes. While Tavaat went to check on the resident, Beka ticked off another finger. “Enjoys inspiring terror.” She glanced at the broken window. “Definitely bumbling.”

“Can’t a dragon enjoy inspiring a little terror without getting called a villain?” Revaremek turned around, careful of his tail this time, and ducked his head to peer through the broken window. “Councilwoman Mirelle will pay for the damages.”

“Oooh, she’s gonna be maaaad.” Beka shook her head, grinning.

“Good!” That made him feel a little better. He took a few steps down the street, huffing. “And a few little missteps do not make me bumbling.”

“You nearly lit yourself on fire just trying to say hello to the village.” Beka’s laughter made his frills burn. “You can’t get more bumbling than that.”

“If you say bumbling one more time, I’m going to hurl you in the same ditch I put the tea kettle.”

Tavaat scratched his muzzle. “Why’d you put a tea kettle in a ditch?”

“Because he was annoying!”

The va’chaak cocked his head. “What?”

“Just stop saying bumbling!” Revaramek thumped his tail against the road. His webbed spines scratched at the cobblestone.

“Now you’re the one saying it. It’s like you can’t get out of your own way!” Beka giggled again, smirking at him. “Which would make you…” Revaramek growled, low and threatening, and Beka swallowed. “Alright, I won’t say it.”

“Wise.”

“How did we even get on this subject?”

“You kept calling me Mirelle’s underling.” The dragon shuddered at the idea, green scales clicking. “Which I am not.”

“Fine, fine.” Beka nudged her shoe against the road, then smiled at Tavaat. “We’ll go with villain, then.”

“I cannot be the villain!” Revaramek lifted his paw and turned it over, displaying his black and pink mottled pads. “I have committed no villainous acts, and my only goal is to eliminate your village’s enemies so I can get back to being your overlord!”

Beka quirked her brow, staring at him.

Revaramek just glared back at her. “If anything, Mirelle is the villain.”

“Mirelle?” Tavaat flicked his tail back and forth, flaring his nostrils. “She’d be the hero.”

“Oh would she?” Revaramek smiled, arching his neck. “Let’s examine the evidence, shall we?” Emulating Beka, he flicked his claws out, one at a time. “She’s come into my home, and conscripted me, forced me against my will to do her bidding. She has a sadistic streak! She has underlings. And she’s part of some mysterious council, ruling over the lives of downtrodden peasants.” He snorted, waggling his claws. “They probably even wear robes.”

Tavaat and Beka exchanged a look. The lizard shrugged. “When you put it that way, she does sort of sound like a villain from one of those plays at the theater.”

“I rest my case. Mirelle is a villain.”

“But she only recruited you because she thinks the village is in danger.” Beka furrowed her brow, scowling in thought. “So how can she be a villain?”

Revaramek lifted his forepaw, rubbing the base of one of his ridged black horns. “That does muddy the waters. I suppose it’s possible she’s an anti-hero, doing terrible, wicked things to me to force me to confront the real villain. And then in the end, one of us would save the other, and we’d have an uneasy truce.”

Beka twined her fingers around a braid. “But you already have an uneasy truce, with all of us.”

“Oh good, then I won’t have to save Mirelle.”

Tavaat gave a growling laugh. “I can’t believe you two are actually discussing this.”

“And I can’t believe how much a dragon knows about character archetypes from plays and books and stories.”

“I like exciting tales.” Revaramek smiled, his voice softening. “I used to love hearing them when I was little.”

“Aww, little baby dragon, listening to stories.” Beka giggled, and for once it didn’t sound so grating. “That actually sounds sort of cute.”

“I was the most adorable hatchling you’ve ever known.”

Beka rolled her eyes. “Of course you were. So you only liked the exciting ones, hmm?”

“No, I loved them all.” Revaramek lifted his head, watching a solitary cloud drift across the sky. It shifted form as it moved, ever-changing and malleable, like the infinite possibilities of his own imagination. “Adventure stories, comedies, romances. Tragedies. I scarcely understood them when I was little. At least not the way I did when I was older, and it was maidens spinning me imaginary gold. No, when I was older the sorrows in a tragedy made me cry, the excitement in an adventure made my heart pound and the love in a good romance made me smile.

“But when I was little and it was just my mother telling me stories, they were always exciting. They made me imagine better places, of worlds beyond the wretched poison of the swamp in which we struggled to survive.” His voice sunk, as though he were watching something precious vanish beneath the surface of a mire for the last time. “Made me think that made somewhere out there, there was water I could drink that wouldn’t taste bitter, prey my mother could hunt without fear of their toxins. Her stories made me think of a better life for us, and so they were always exciting.” He smiled as the cloud seemed to stretch itself till it was winged, like a dragon. “So stories, I…I call them all exciting tales now.”

“That’s…” Beka cleared her throat, her eyes shining in the late afternoon sunlight. “Not…what I expected.”

“No, I should think not.” Revaramek shook himself, then gave the other two a toothy smile. “Now, unless you’d like to further discuss why Mirelle is clearly a villain, your overlord shall now take the lead.”

Still smiling, Revaramek strode past them and down the street. Though it had been ages since he’d actually visited a village, the growth here surprised him. Where the entry lanes had been packed and rutted earth, further into the village the widest roads were all paved with flat cobbling stones. The mingling scents were as varied as those in the marsh, from the sour sweat of so many humans, to the acrid tint of wood smoke, to the delightful aromas of sizzling meat.

Though he saw plenty of villagers in the streets, most of them scattered when they saw the dragon coming. Some ducked into alleyways or vanished through doors. Others just backed away and stared. Oooh, showing proper respect for their overlord, he liked that. He’d have to visit the villages more often if it always made him feel this terrifying and important.

The buildings that lined the cobbled streets were sturdier than the sticks and thatch he usually saw when he flew above smaller villages. Some were made of log, others of simple brick. A few were even constructed of stones and mortar. Some had signs suspended from overhanging eaves, and others had signposts out front. A couple structures were even decorated with colorful murals painted upon the walls. Up ahead, smoke belched from behind one building, and a sharp clanging sound made the dragon’s sensitive ears ring.

Something else made the dragon’s ears ring, too. Beka’s screeching. “Hey! HEY!”

“What?” Revaramek finally whirled around to face her, his tail taking out a few crates stacked at the side of the road. The boxes shattered and the impact stung. He glanced back at his tail, flicked his spines out to make sure he hadn’t damaged his sharp, gold-tinged webbing. “You almost made me hurt my tail.

“Then watch where you’re swinging it.” Beka stood quite a ways down the road, shouting at him. “Quit breaking things!”

“Mirelle can pay for a few…” He twisted his neck to see what was in the crates. Smashed exotic vases and ornate figurines lay in pieces along the side of the road. “Well, whatever. Why are you yelling at me from way back there?”

Beka pointed down a street he’d walked past. “Because you’re going the wrong way, overlord.”

Revaramek licked his nose. “I’m…touring your village. And don’t say it so sarcastically.” He dropped his tail to the road, and used it to sweep some of the broken vases and wooden debris under the shop’s boardwalk. “But, I suppose I can let you lead me. Just this once.”

Tavaat grunted, his little red frills standing up. “What an honor.”

“What are you smirking at, Tiny Frills?” Revaramek padded back towards the other two. He stared down at the va’chaak, then lifted a paw to rub a single fingerpad against one of Tavaat’s golden spots. “You’ve got something on your nose.”

“Very funny!” Tavaat swatted his paw away.

“See what happens when you let humans civilize you?” Raveremek rumbled a laugh and brushed past the va’chaak, who gave him an ineffective shove. “You get all grumpy. Why are we going to her tavern, anyway?”

Beka took Tavaat’s hand and hurried him past the dragon till the two of them were out front again. “Mirelle knew you’d come here despite her forbidding you, so she wanted us to keep you under control. Since that’s clearly impossible, we’ve decided to take you somewhere you’ll do less public damage. The tavern seemed like the best bet.”

“Oh?” Raveramek perked his ears, spines lifting. “Won’t Mirelle be mad?” Ooh, he hoped she’d be mad. Be nice to see her angry at someone else for once.

“Yeah.” Tavaat shrugged. “She will. But better one person angry at us than the whole city.”

“Though it might be a bit late for that.” Beka gestured at the dragon as they walked down a slightly narrower lane with more trees amidst the buildings. “At least we can keep him confined to one area.”

Tavaat licked his muzzle. “I could use a drink, anyway.”

“Me too,” Beka said.

“I could use two drinks.” Tavaat grinned at the shorter human woman.

“I’ll have three then,” Beka said, smirking at him.

“Bet I can drink more than you.”

“Cannot.”

“Can too! But…yanno.” Tavaat jerked his thumb at the dragon.

Revaramek lowered his head, growling. “Are you implying I’m not fun to drink with? I could drink you both into oblivion!”

“Of course you could,” Beka said, pulling her braided hair over her shoulder. “You’re ten times my size!”

“Your math is terrible!”

“I was implying…” Tavaat glanced back and forth between the dragon and the woman. He clicked his teeth when no one interrupted him. “That we have to stay sober to babysit our overlord here.”

The dragon stomped a paw, snarling. “I am not a baby to be sat upon!”

Tavaat stared him, his gold-spotted green muzzle hanging open. “That isn’t…you know what? I’m getting’ drunk.”

“That’s the spirit, lizard!” Revaramek lashed out with a forepaw and slapped the va’chaak on the rump, alongside his tail. “Let’s have some fun!”

“OW!” Tavaat stumbled forward, grabbing himself and grimacing. “That hurt! And…I’m no more a lizard than you are!”

“Bahahahaha!” Beka pointed at the va’chaak, giggling like mad. “You got your ass slapped by a dragon!”

“Yeah, real funny, wench! I’m gonna have a limp.” Tavaat pinned his little frills back. “How’d you like I slap your ass?”

“Me?” Beka tossed her braid back over her shoulder, grinning. “I’m not that drunk. Besides, he’s the one who did it, slap him!”

“Oh no!” Revaramek snapped his jaws, tucking his tail between his hind legs. “I’m not falling for that again. Besides, it was not a gesture of attraction. It was a sign of approval!”

“That’s not how you express approval!” Tavaat shook his tail, then went back to walking.

“Or attraction.” Beka took up her place at the va’chaak’s side.

“Human males often express attraction for a wench by slapping her upon her hindquarters.” Revaramek cocked his head. “Is that not true?”

“Only the perverts. But that’s not a subject I’ll discuss with a dragon without at least three drinks in me.” Beka shrugged. “And…wait, who slaps someone on the ass to express approval?”

“Gryphons.” Revaramek arched his neck.

“Gryphons.” Tavaat’s voice was flat.

“Yes, gryphons.”

“Gryphons slap each other’s ass to express approval?”

“Yes.” Revaramek smiled, then faltered. “Well, two gryphons do.”

“Two gryphons?”

“The two I partied with did.” Revaramek flexed his wings in a draconic shrug.

Beka came to a stop. “You partied with gryphons?”

Revaramek lowered his head and bumped the girl with his muzzle to get her walking again. Where Mirelle smelt a bit of flowers, Beka smelt vaguely of fruit and spice. Strange the scents humans adorned themselves with, he thought. “I suppose you assume just because dragons enjoy conquering and mayhem, we don’t also enjoy partying and drinking and feasting and having fun!”

“I suspect that by fun, you mean debauchery!” Beka turned a corner onto a gently sloped street, with a wooded lot and a grand building at the far end. “Which I’d assumed…well, now I’m curious.” She smirked at him over her shoulder, her brows quirked. “Was there debauchery, at this…gryphon party?”

“There may have been.” Revaramek rumbled a purr. “Put some ale in me, and maybe I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I might have to, at this rate.”

“Or if you’d like, I could spin you an exciting tale.” Revaramek re-settled his wings against his back. “I have entertained maidens before.”

That made Beka laugh, though the dragon wasn’t sure why it was so funny. “I don’t think that’s the sort of debauchery I want to hear about.”

Revaramek nosed at her back again. “And yet you wanted to hear about those gryphons.”

Beka walked a little faster to escape his muzzle. “I never said that.”

“Besides, it wasn’t always debauchery.” He lifted his head, smiling. “Sometimes I entertained the maidens with my tongue.” He cocked his head when Beka’s eyes went wide and her whole face went scarlet. “Why are you turning all red?” Then Tavaat burst into laughter and Revaramek caught on. “Oh, yes, I see what I said there. But I didn’t mean it like that. Well, sometimes it was like that.” He purred again. “But I meant by talking and telling tales! It’s not my fault you’re got a dirty mind.”

Beka opened and closed her mouth a few times, but not words came out.

“Is she having a fit?”

Tavaat replied through his lingering laughter. “I think she’s trying to say she should slap your nose for that. But hey, she’s the one who thought of it first, right?” Tavaat gave Beka a playful shove, then started running around in wide circles as she chased him through the street. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry!” He stumbled to a stop and Beka punched him on the shoulder. “Ow!”

Revaramek made a thoughtful, trilling noise when he realized why they were acting that way. “You two are a mated pair, aren’t you.”

“WHAT?” Beka whirled around at him, her face attaining heretofore undiscovered levels of crimson.

“You act like an old mated couple.” Revaramek lowered his tail and coiled it against the ground. “Why does that make you change to your angry colors?”

Beka spun back around just as fast, stomping towards the large, ornate building at the end of the road. “I need a drink!”

 “What a coincidence, so do I.” Revaramek padded after her, glancing at Tavaat when the lizard walked alongside him. “Where is this drinking establishment, anyway?”

“That’s it up there.”

“What, that big, pointy building?”

The lizard chittered laughter. “That’s the place. Mirelle calls it The Cathedral.”

“It does not look like any pub I have seen.”

“That’s the idea.” Tavaat adjusted one of the leather straps across his chest, pouches bobbling against his scales. “How many pubs have you seen, though?”

“Not many, but none of them looked like that.”

“Mirelle wanted it to stand out,” the va’chaak said, fidgeting with his knife straps. “She had it designed after pictures she saw in a book.”

Revaramek lifted his head to look the place over as they approached it. It was taller than the other buildings in the area, with an angled roof that vaunted up to a central point. A tower with a brass bell topped one end of the building, overlooking the trees around it. Decorative, arched buttresses extended from the walls and ran down the length of the structure. Ornamental spikes topped battlements along the edge of the roof.

“It looks like a fortress.”

“Does it?” Tavaat rubbed his muzzle. “Never seen a fortress. Or a cathedral. But that’s what it’s supposed to resemble, a cathedral. It’s her second place, y’see. First one was started by her family after they got here. Got to be real popular, so when Mirelle took over, she decided to do something bigger.”

The dragon pawed at the cobblestone. “Because only the best for Mirelle, right?”

“Don’t think it was that.” Tavaat flicked his tail back and forth. “Place was popular cause they took care of people. Good food and drink, too. And open to everyone. Not everyone in this town would hire a va’chaak, yanno?”

“I suppose not.” Revaramek stretched his wings. Their taloned tips tore a few potted flowers free of their baked-clay homes. “She seemed quite proud of that, actually.”

“Yeah, I think Mirelle figures the only actions worth taking are those you can take pride in.” He gestured at The Cathedral as they approached its wooded grounds. “So anyway, even with the money she’d made off the first place, she couldn’t afford something like this. But she got it in her head to bring this town something new, something special. So, she sold her house to help fund this place. Had to move into the old tavern out back. Damn near emptied her coffers having The Cathedral built, but it’s been doing great business for her since the day it opened.”

“Yes, thank you for her life story.” Revaramek followed the lizard from the road onto a lane paved with massive flagstones. “Now, where is the booze?”

“Inside. Come on.”

The pub was set back from the road, with an elegant wrought iron fence circling its grounds. Several ancient oak trees shaded outdoor tables. Behind the place, massive pines formed a blue-green wall. A vine-wrapped awning covered more outdoor seating. The flagstone lane led to the two largest doors Revaramek had ever seen. They were dark wood inlaid with intricate patterns. Above them was an immense stained glass window with a red sunburst pattern. On either side of the doors were carved reliefs of peasants stuffing their faces and stumbling drunkards.

Beka stood in front of the huge double doors, her arms folded. “You’re not going to let him in, are you?”

“Wasn’t gonna make him drink outside.”

Revaramek glanced between them, grinning. “I can go in?”

Tavaat shrugged. “Do you wanna go in?”

“In? Me? Inside?” Revaremek’s eyes widened, his spines lifted in excitement. “I’ve never been in a building before!”

Tavaat smiled. “See, he’s all happy. Now we gotta let him in.”

“Right. Take the big dragon indoors and put alcohol in him.” Beka shook her head, her braid swishing. “There’s a plan that can’t fail.”

“You’re the one who said take him here.” Tavaar pushed against one of the oversized doors. “And you said you needed a drink.”

“I said take him here, not let him in! And I do need a drink.” She punched Tavaat on the shoulder.

The lizard yelped and glared at her. “Stop hittin’ me and help me get the doors open far enough.”

Beka sighed, but went to the other door, and pushed it. It slowly eased open on oiled hings. “Mirelle’s gonna kill you!”

“No, Mirelle’s gonna kill both of us.”

“You’re right. Guess we may as well start drinking!”

Revaramek rumbled and shook himself, smiling. Oh, these two were fun.