Dragon Vòlkan

Onz Chapit (11)

Lanfe

(Hellscape)

Gretchen was in no particular hurry. She had her rocking chair placed in the street facing the mountain and had field glasses, a parasol, lemonade and cakes brought out. A man who had chosen not to leave performed this service and received a pouch of gold, the largest gift she had ever made, but, considering the circumstances, it made sense.

While she did seem to know the value of everything, she also added sentimental stories that first pleased Violette but eventually vexed her. There was only so much time. She wondered if the old woman’s time as a dragon had affected her mentally, she didn’t want that for herself. Gretchen had considerable sangfroid though, while the elf was an emotional wreck, sick with worry about the dragon, the villagers and her own safety. The smoke, ash and occasional loud lava bomb was not helping things.

“Do you see how clever mein liebchen is?” Gretchen pointed to the volcano with pride. Violette cocked her head and didn’t understand. “He is an excellent engineer! I helped him a little, but we always knew that ze mountain might blow. So, we used natural terrain and water tests to see where the lava would flow, he said lava was much like water and it seems he was right! I can see from here that ze area of the lair is covered in ash, but clear of lava.” She passed Violette the field glasses now.

The elf couldn’t recognize the lair from here, but she could see when the smoke parted that the red lava only ran like rivers over part of the mountain, some of it was clear. She remarked that they had taken the further precaution of burying the gold in tunnels and caves and covering them over. The old woman smiled and nodded.

Sometime later as work progressed, Gretchen paid the elf a compliment. “I was only 15 when I entered the dragon’s service. I think I was too willing to give in, he is so smart and powerful and handsome. Yet you have forced him to consider your point of view. It is better that way.”

The dragon did not return by nightfall so they covered the treasure in wet blankets and went to the vault of the bunker to sleep. By now the scene was a hellish nightmare. Dense smoke and ash made the world as dark as the deepest cave, pierced only by the occasional fiery lava bomb and the streaked red of the volcano itself in the distance. It was difficult to breathe outside and the heat was unbearable. The morning was no better, though a dim, weird, reddish sunlight came through in patches. About noon she heard the dragon roar. Violette came out first as Gretchen would not rise.

The dragon was busy lashing the treasures to his back. He reported that he had checked the docks and no one was there. He had seen a ship he did not recognize leaving the island with refugees and he expected there had been one captain willing to take a dangerous mission of mercy. No doubt there were those who decided to brave the volcano, but at least those who had waited at the docks were rescued. The dragon looked terrible, he was covered in ash, one eye was closed and his wings drooped. Still, he was determined to rescue his shinies, though he did not quibble on how much was left behind, they merely moved the leftovers inside the shoppe and locked the door. “Make safe! Make safe!” the dragon kept saying.

When all was ready, Violette went back to the vault to collect Gretchen. Only then did she realize she had expired during the night. She understood now why the woman had insisted on being dressed in her finest frock with stupendous matching jewelry. She was a dragon maiden to the last. Her jealousy had faded away like ash into the wind and she realized now that they had to have been a family for the betterment of the Dragon to learn how to humble himself and change. The other Dragon maidens had never been her enemy, only stepping stones to give her and her children a better life and teach the dragon better ways of loving along the way. The elf wept aloud and kissed her before leaving her there, surrounded by treasures they had hoped would later be retrieved. Now in the darkest hour her children had been placed away in her chest the dragon had bought her on her first trip to town. They had developed faces now each looked terrified only she whispered to them in Elvish that they would be fine. They glowed dim going to sleep before she joined the dragon.

The dragon and the elf walked the desolate streets to take off from the docks. It was increasingly looking like the place would be uninhabitable for a century. None who remained behind survived, the couple were the last to leave alive.

Wakhangli was not flying well. He veered to the left, stayed low and labored. Violette asked if she should cut loose some of the treasures but he refused with a roar and an increase in height to show his determination. It did not last. He was going high and then gliding, trying to conserve energy, but it was not working. They looked for a ship but found none. He landed gently in the sea and only then relented to have the baggage cut loose. She got off his back, immediately taking mermaid form. She still had her precious chest strapped to her chest like a mother carrying a baby, in her case it was three.

She washed the soot from him and cleaned his minor wounds. But it was increasingly clear that his dragon scales did not make him buoyant and he was too tired to swim well. She propped him up and sang to him but he was listless; she feared the worst. There was no help on the horizon. She slashed herself with her dagger made of dragon tears, opened her chest and extracted a potion M. Noire had left her. She put it to the dragon’s lips just as he sank beneath the waves. She held his head and called him ‘her Sun.’