Broadswords - 26. The Flashback

Broadswords

Chapter Twenty-Six
The Flashback

As the heat of the dragonfire began to increase, Daegon watched as the reds became oranges, which then became yellows, and finally whites. Though he was dehydrated, beads of perspiration began to pepper his skin. He felt himself fading out of consciousness.

"You must never let them see you sweat!" Vyrik said, grunting as he hoisted his sword before him. It was a heavy sword, Daegon knew, as it was one of his many squire-related duties to lug the thing around. At sixteen, he'd been working alongside Vyrik for two years and the aging slayer had always favored that sword. Despite its heft, he'd insisted it was his best weapon.

Regardless, Daegon was ready to toss any of a wide assortment of other weapons to Vyrik if needed. It wasn't unusual for him to call out for a battleaxe or a short sword partway through a slay. Many of the other slayers in the kingdom of Darkhaven tutted at Vyrik's unusual methods. Even so, he was one of the longest-lasting slayers they had, and by far one of the best. Daegon had shown a lot of promise, Vyrik had said, which is why he'd chosen him to be his squire. Daegon never questioned any of his slayer's motives.

Vyrik's sword sliced through the air, missing the dragon's neck by inches but causing the beast to withdraw slightly. It roared at him, and a collective gasp from the onlookers followed. Having a group of civilians in attendance during a slay was never a good thing, but the people that lived on Dragon's Loop Island were not generally concerned with safety. After all, they voluntarily resided on an island that was surrounded by water dragons.

Thankfully, the aquatic creatures almost exclusively occupied the inlet and waters surrounding the island and rarely came ashore. If they did so more often, the island would have needed its own set of dragonslayers versus calling on those from Darkhaven. But when they did encroach on the land, the islanders were quick to call for reinforcements.

This was Daegon's fourth trip to the island, and he'd become accustomed to the audience. It was them, the crowd, whom Vyrik was referring to when he shared his advice. "If they see nerves, they will be quick to turn on you. They have no dedication to a single slayer. If they felt that I was too intimidated by this beast, they'd instead begin to call on one of the others from the kingdom. Reputational risk is always at stake when people are involved. And in many ways, humans are far more dangerous than dragons."

With another flourish of his weapon, Vyrik downed the dragon. Its long, sinewy neck fell toward the sand. Daegon had to leap aside to avoid being struck. From behind, he could hear the cheers of the islanders. True to his word, Vyrik appeared undaunted. Daegon knew, however, that the slay was not an easy one and swelled with pride to be associated with a man that could showcase so much strength and perseverance in such difficult circumstances.

After the crowd began to disburse and Vyrik collected the dragon's tongue, they made their way to one of the island's inns. Though the journey back to Darkhaven was not a long one, Vyrik generally preferred to spend the remainder of the day after a slay in the town where it occurred. "Take advantage of your travels," he would say. "Many people are stuck in one place their whole lives. In our career, we are given the opportunity to see different places, different cultures. Soak it up."

They unloaded their gear in their room and bathed, washing off the day's adventure. Daegon took his slayer's sage words to heart, and no matter where they were he would broaden his horizons and experience things that Darkhaven didn't have to offer. As he toweled himself dry, he debated how he would spend his evening. Vyrik had chosen to catch a play at the amphitheater, but Daegon had never been one for dramatic performances.

"What have you settled on?" Vyrik asked, buttoning up his eveningwear. Daegon studied him as he dressed, impressed with how the man was still cool and confident even in his middle-agedness. It was another thing Daegon looked up to him for, and he could only hope that he'd be as impressive as Vyrik as he got older.

"Any suggestions?" Daegon asked. In previous visits to Dragon's Loop Island, he'd already attended a joust, explored the legendary beaches, and taken a tour of the beryl mines. He was eager to try something new.

"You haven't been to the ruins yet, have you?" Vyrik realized suddenly, turning to face the boy.

Daegon knew he hadn't, of course, but also wasn't aware that the island was home to any ruins. "No, sir. What ruins?"

Vyrik chuckled. "I often forget your age, Daegon. There's still plenty to teach you of our occupational history. Quite some time ago, a noble family lived on the northern shores of the island. They were revered for their extravagant lands, a property that consisted of a grandiose mansion and dozens of other structures – a menagerie, a greenhouse, a mausoleum, a conservatory… the list goes on and on. The property – Fairmist, as they called it – was almost a town of its own.

"The lord of the house had the structures built because of his fascination with the dragon-infested waters that surround the island. His ultimate goal was to have an underwater dome built in which he could capture a few of the beasts. A place where he could observe them in a more confined space, and where he could encapsulate them as living trophies. It would have been his definitive accomplishment. Construction was begun, but it didn't get very far."

Wide-eyed, Daegon was intrigued. "What happened?"

"The dragons became agitated. Large glass panels were being erected in their habitat. The seafloor was being disturbed, nests were being destroyed and eggs broken before they were near ready to hatch. They began to attack the men working on the project, then took to the rest of the estate. Fairmist was destroyed in a matter of hours, along with all of its inhabitants."

Daegon couldn't believe he'd never heard of the events that Vyrik described. It sounded like an awful incident. He wasn't sure why Vyrik suggested it as a place to visit. Sure, it seemed far more interesting than an old mine or a stretch of sandy land, but it also seemed far more disturbing. "And this is someplace I should go?"

The slayer nodded firmly, smoothing out his jacket. "It's just as important to garner knowledge from negative experiences as it is from positive ones. As men in this field, we need to learn from the mistakes made by others in the past. We know how temperamental water dragons are. But we weren't born with that information, Daegon. We have acquired knowledge from those before us. Slayers and civilians alike. Visiting the ruins of Fairmist, that's something I feel you would benefit from. To see what can come of those that become too complacent."

Daegon dressed in silence. Never one to doubt his mentor's logic, he chose to take the recommendation and travel northward toward the former site of Fairmist.

The next morning, Daegon was more reserved than normal. The ruins had taken a toll on him. Much of the land had become overgrown with weeds and other various foliage, but bits and pieces of the structures remained. He could see where dragon fire had scorched the brick, the discoloration still evident after however many years. Claw marks still marred the decaying wood, and the shambles of what had once been someone's home retained a morose feel.

Vyrik tipped the deckhand after the crates of scales and teeth from their slay had been loaded onto the boat. Once everything was ready to journey across the waters back to Darkhaven, he approached Daegon and placed his hand on the squire's shoulder. "It's going to lay heavily on you for a while, but I'm glad you have that experience now."

Looking up at him, Daegon broke his silence. "I'm grateful to you. I understand the importance of viewing the ruins. But sir… it scares me, a little. What will prevent something like that from happening to me?"

The slayer sat down beside Daegon. "That family was ignorant, son. You are far from that. Someday, you'll find yourself in a situation where you'll be at death's door. Hell, if you develop into the dragonslayer I believe you will, you'll face that scenario several times over your career. But the one thing to remember is to never, ever give up. Sometimes your skills will get you out of it, sometimes it will be because of the assistance from others, or sometimes it will come down to sheer, dumb luck. Never be too proud to accept any of those means as a way out of a situation."

"Damnit, Deke! What are you doing here?" Daegon's eyes fluttered open, the heat seemingly receding as he heard Elsior's angry cry. His vision was still distorted, but he could see that the dragon had indeed ceased its flame altogether. His eyes hurt, but he strained them as much as he could. Spots of light bit at his sight. He could just make out Elsior's shape, along with another figure.

The dragon appeared to be completely under Elsior's control, as it stood idly by without a hint of disobedience. Just as the creature had begun charging its fireball at the snap of Elsior's fingers, it seemed to only act at his command. Whatever this thing was, this Elsior's Dragon as it had so egotistically been called, it was unlike any breed of dragon Daegon had ever even fathomed.

"It's the squire," the other man said, a hint of worry in his voice. The squire. Birten. Had something happened to him? Was he dead? Elsior had assured him that Birten was alive, but Elsior's word was nothing to him. Further, the could-be franticness that toyed at the man's tone caused Daegon to believe that something had gone awry.

Despite his weariness, the reference to Birten jolted his body into a more aware state. He forced his eyes all the way open, feeling the hint of a burn on his face from the heat that had moments ago filled the cavern. He sat up as straight as he could, leaning forward at the same time. He needed to hear whatever it was that was about to be said. Whether Birten was dead or alive, he had to know.

"This had better be a matter of life or death, you swine. You've interrupted a very crucial point in my plan," Elsior spat. The tension between the two was unquestionable. His vision returning, Daegon could clearly see the infuriation that crossed Elsior's face.

The newcomer hesitated, and the pause seemed like an eternity to Daegon. Those few seconds felt longer than the entire rest of the time he'd spent chained to the wall.

"Spit it out already!" Elsior bellowed. The skin on his face was deep red, and the muscles in his neck strained as if they were about to snap. It was his eyes, though, that contained the most fury. It was an anger that Daegon had never seen take over another person.

Finally, Deke revealed the reason for his intrusion. "He's escaped."