Dragonslayer, Inc.

The winds changed direction from southeast to due east, and our safe haven was breached.

“Get on the stallion, Steph,” said Machen. “Coran and I can go on foot.”

Ironwall said, “No. You and Steph get on the horse.”

“Sure?”

“I’ve endured a lot. I don’t need to ride.”

“Me neither,” cut in Steph. “Coran, you mastered this horse. You should ride it.”

“Why? I’m fine.” I conspicuously kept the back side of my body away from the others. I didn’t it want to become irritated and my statement to be disproved. Steph and Machen rode off. Ironwall and I were left behind to run.

Miyok was so close. I could pick out major branches on individual trees. I could nearly taste the Litriol on my tongue. The fire was fast, but Ironwall and I were faster. Tension was replaced with exhilaration.

When fatigue set in, we slowed, but the storm didn’t close in on us. As tired as we were, it was exhausted. Without its prior propulsion, it became lethargic and lackadaisical, unable to pack a punch. It was weakening, and there was no doubt about it. The flames weren’t as strong, and the winds weren’t as loud. Whereas before it had been a callous scream, it was now an insidious whisper, threatening but far from frightening.

As Firecane Bay drew further from us, the sea breeze disappeared from our noses, replaced by the smell of Miyok. While this was a foresty smell, it was a far cry from the typical foresty smell. It was earthy but not musty. It was dry but not crusty. Leaving no doubt this forest was ancient, it nonetheless managed to project a sleek, sophisticated vividness. It was as though there was an advanced civilization in those woods.

I couldn’t wait to get there, but I would have to wait a little longer.

Blowing in from the east, appearing out of nowhere, as if conjured out of nothingness or transported in from another world, was a crowd of things. There’s no better way than that to describer the phenomenon that befell us. Birds, rabbits, fenceposts, corpses, entire trees and shanties, an antique car; it was all thrown in our direction without care, regard, or order.

It was a slice of chaos that I was determined to ignore until these items, which had been airborne for miles after having been picked up from a dilapidated commune and an abandoned farm, fell out of the sky, the wind having ground to a halt.

In accordance with this poor stroke of luck, most of these things fell in front of me and Ironwall, and those that didn’t bore us significantly worse fates.

Living trees are good, particularly on this decimated planet of ours. Dead trees are neutral-negative, offering little value but doing little harm save for taking up space. Dead trees that crash down onto people, on the other hand, are viscerally negative, thoroughly detestable objects.

This dead tree crushed Ironwall’s foot as it landed. Unable to get up, he struggled to free himself, and I helped, but it wasn’t easy. A chicken landed on my skull. Dazed, I teetered before another chicken hit me in the back, shoving me into the tree, which I hit with my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

Unsatisfied with its successes, my tormentor refused to relent, directing a post at my head. My inner demon had activated, but there nothing it could do. There was nothing I could do.

Then came Ironwall. With the confidence and resolve and resolve I had seen so many times from him, he drew his warhammer and decimated that post, leaving only splinters that rained from the air like confetti.

I got up.

The final breath of the crowd of things arrived shortly thereafter, coming in the form of a creaky mailbox that had already been divided into three parts. Each part was aiming for Ironwall. He knocked away one with his hammer. I threw his dagger at another. There was one left. Having no weapons, I lunged for it, aiming to slam it away with my fist, but I failed, falling short, and it dug into Ironwall’s free leg.

Now he had two unusable legs, and the firecane was still coming. Machen and Steph were in Miyok already, and the fire would never end up touching the forest, fizzling out before then. It was on its last gasp of life. Unfortunately, that last gasp was unbound, nihilistic fury.

Reddish-brown fire nipped at our heels, then our ankles, then our shins, producing clouds of dense smoke in the process. I could hardly see Ironwall, but I stuck close to him, and together we lifted the tree off his foot. “Free at last,” I said, my voice never sounding worse.

“Go.”

“I’ll help you up.”

“No. Leave me.”

“We’ve been over this. I’m not letting you die.”

“This is different.” The flames kept on rising. I dodged out of their way, high-stepping and swerving, twisting my body in all sorts of unnatural ways. Ironwall stayed still.

“Looks the same to me.”

“Listen: my legs are no good. Bones are broken in one, and muscles are bleeding in the other. Don’t bother to take the mailbox shard out. There’s no point. You can live, Coran, and you can defeat Icithan. I believe in you. I’m proud of you. Leave me. I’ve lived long enough.”

“I’ll drag you to Miyok if I have to.” Straightening my back, I took a gulp of air and grabbed ahold of him.

“Do you want to die?” he shouted, shoving me with his working limbs. “You are…” He could say no more, as his head was below the smoke, and the smoke was streaming into his lungs. Wheezing, he lost his battle to stay conscious, and his body went limp.

He would never open his eyes again.

For thirty-five minutes, I carried him- a man who weighed more than I- across the flaming plains outside Miyok. Never once did I let him slip. I’ve done a lot of things I regret, but that is not one of them. I never considered dropping him and saving myself: not when sweat was pouring off my body like rain in the tropics, not when the flames ate up what was left of my lower legs and a good chunk of my upper legs, not when a crosswind gale hit me like a bulldozer and ripped off one of my burnt fingers, not when cinders got in my eyes and blinded me.

I’m proud of that.

By the time I got to Miyok, the firecane had practically ended. Dusk was setting in. I could hear a low, melodic hum: the Song of the Forest. The plant life can’t use sunlight, so it takes energy from the Litriol, which creates that sound when it’s absorbed.

This doesn’t decrease the concentration of Litriol however. After the plants absorb what they need, they secrete what’s called Nitriol. When enough Nitriol clumps together and reacts with air and water, it turns into Litriol. This process is made much easier by the presence of other Litriol molecules, which secrete a chemical into the air that helps break down cell barriers and facilitate the transformation.

Ironwall told me all this the day the aunt-like Slayer died, and it was on my mind as I laid his body down just inside the forest. Though I shook him to and fro, back and forth, he wouldn’t stir. I tried a few other methods, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Three-quarters of the way through my slog, I knew he was dead. I don’t know when he died. It could have been seconds after he stopped talking, or it could have been half an hour afterward.

Frazzled and fried as I may have been, I knew there was no way I could make it any further. Without my telling it to, my body crumpled like a paper bag. I didn’t have one tenth of the strength it would have taken to get up. Lying on the brink of death, I called out for help. In my mind, there were words, but they died in my throat, and they came to the scorched hole that was my mouth as a carnal shout wrapped in a mumbled whisper. I sounded like a dead man trying to return to the land of the living.

Steph and Machen ran to help me. Their tattered clothes were bound by leaves and vines they had found. Communicating wordlessly, they checked me over and examined the injuries I had suffered. As an afterthought, they checked Ironwall. He looked even deader than I, and once they had gotten confirmation, they left his body alone. It was to be dealt with at another time.

Picking me up, they stumbled through a complicated route, taking three lefts and four rights, making one mistake and having to correct it. Plopping me down, they clasped their hands together and waited for results.

The first sensation I can remember feeling since I picked up Ironwall was the cool pulse of water on my skin. It wasn’t harsh, not in the least. There was no pain, only healing, and the healing started right away.

Images formed in my mind. They were from my memories, but they were coated in this cool blue tone that carried a transcendental power. Sighing, I couldn’t help but let go. The images got more vivid, and they stayed in my mind for longer. I could see, hear, and feel elements of them that had faded through the years.

I didn’t heal completely. To this day, my legs don’t feel quite right. To this day, there are marks I’d rather be without. But that experience in the lake was the most powerful and profound of my life. It didn’t just save my life. It saved me.

The burns on my eyes were gone, and with them, my blindness. The power of sight was mine again. As if awakening from sleep, my eyes flickered three times before opening wide. At the surface of the water, there was a clump of Litriol that glowed brighter than the rest, and it looked like the sun to me. I went to cover my eyes with my hands, and as I did so, I opened my mouth and swallowed water.

Freaking out, I came to my senses and swam upward, toward the light. When I broke the surface of the water, my jaw dropped. This was Inner Miyok Forest, and it was glorious. I didn’t spit up the stray water in my lungs. I drizzled it out my mouth like a poorly working fountain. To behave otherwise would be sacrilege.

Spinning in the glowing teal water, I was amazed by the variety of foliage. There were trees with aquamarine trunks and silvery leaves. There were golden-blue shrubs in the shape of two katana tied together at their handles. There were periwinkle flowers encased in balls of their own cerulean roots hanging by spindly, sticky, gleaming threads from tree branches.

A reminder: this is the forest after being depleted for hundreds of years.

Ironwall’s dagger floated out of my pocket and tumbled end over end until I picked it up and brought it above the water. Fresh and shiny, it looked brand new. I pricked my newly smooth hands with it.

A drop of blood plopped into the water, crystalized, and dissolved.

I shook off the pain, and more drops of blood were flung into the water, reacting the same way. Litriol is resilient. It can be used or depleted, but it can hardly be destroyed. If a thousand galloons of blood were dumped into the lake, the water would be clean before the next breeze blew through the trees.

As I went to put the dagger back in my pocket, it pricked my other hand. I wasn’t used to it being so sharp. More blood fell into the water. Rather than shake my hand out, I did what should have been obvious from the get-go and stuck it under the water. A soothing warmth running up my spine, the wound was healed. There was no mark.

“This is magic, isn’t it?” I said.

Floating freely was that sun-like clump of Litriol. There was a plant on top of it, a translucent plant that looked like a chandelier topped with a spear.

Insects were flying around the plant’s big scented leaves. A bird swooped in, ripped off a bit of a leaf, and flew away. That bit regenerated not long after. A bird of a different species landed on the same leaf and stood there silently until a group of insects came into view. It ate these insects, then rested on the leaf before flying away. A new swarm of insects flew in not long after.

I reached down under the water and touched the clump of Litriol. For a second, I felt godlike, as if I were holding a star in my hand. Then the sensation went away. I was left numb. I was left overwhelmed. My body couldn’t handle the stimulation.

When I pulled my arm out of the water, it was blue. The Litriol had sunk into my skin and traveled up from my fingertips. My shoulder turned blue, and it was followed by my chest. Soon my entire body was a shade bluer than it had been.

The brightest blues stayed in my fingers though. Holding them up to my face, I saw they were glowing. I didn’t know what to think. My mind had been fresh when I opened my eyes, but these new revelations were overwhelming me. There was only so much I could take, but I wanted more.

“I see you’re up.”

It was Machen. A detailed image of him popped up in my mind courtesy of the Litriol. Turning my head, I got a look at the current Machen. The two images could hardly be more different. The one in my mind was from when we met. He was arrogant, ambitious, hopeful, clueless, and ostentatious, wearing only the finest and hippest fashions.

The current Machen wasn’t even wearing a shirt. His chest was bare save for a few hairs- and I do mean a few, as most of them had been burned off or removed in some other unfortunate way. He was experienced, confused, weary, and empathetic.

A flash of gold caught my eye. There it was: the one link between the old Machen and the new. There it was: that gold chain.

Though it wasn’t nearly as impressive as it used to be- if I hadn’t seen it before, I wouldn’t have thought it was gold- he steadfastly kept it hanging around his neck. He was gripping it as I said to him, “Wish we had gotten here sooner.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“We can definitely take our time.” Having grown addicted to the taste of Litriol water, I took several gulps of the lake.

“Is that safe?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Do we have any water bottles? We should empty them out and fill them with this stuff.”

“Between the three of us, we have one water bottle, and believe me, it does not need to be emptied out. It’s dry as a bone.”

“Where is it?”

“With Steph.”

“Why?”

“She was gonna fill it up with Litriol water.”

“Good for her. We’re set then.”

“Still… one bottle?”

“All the more reason to drink up while we’re here.” I took another couple gulps of the lake. “Have you had any?”

“Only enough so I wouldn’t die of dehydration. If you two say it’s safe, I’ll take your word for it.”

“We could ask Ironwall. He’s the expert… oh. I forgot.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“I miss him already.”

“Me too. If we kept walking east, what would we find? An abandoned city? A mass grave? Bizarre rock formations? Alien statues? A dragon’s nest? I don’t know. If Ironwall were here, I could ask him. He knew everything. Now we’re in the dark.”

“I tried the best I could to save him.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

“But it was in vain. What if this whole journey’s been in vain? There’s only three of us now. How are we supposed to kill a four-hundred-foot-long dragon?”

“We’ll have to find out.”

“How’s my stallion?”

“Dead.”

“Oh.”

“It collapsed not long after we rode it into the forest. We pushed it into a pool of Litriol water, but it didn’t work.”

“What is dead cannot be brought back to life.”

“I suppose.”

“Guess that means there’s no reviving Ironwall.”

“We would have done it already if it were possible.”

“How far away is his body?”

“Why? Do you want to give him a burial?”

“It’d be nice.”

“We can do that.”

Steph strutted in, taking swigs of her water bottle. Excited but measured, she said, “Now this is a place you want to journey to. The sights are beautiful, the experiences are mindboggling, and it’s all ours.”

“There has to be a settlement around here somewhere,” I said. “It’s a big forest.”

“If there is one, we haven’t found it,” responded Machen. “I wish we would though. It’d be nice to have supplies.”

“I’m open to looking for one. I’m open to spending weeks here. It doesn’t get better than this.” She raised her water bottle to the sky. Her skin was bluer than mine.

“Are there any legitimate dangers to staying here? Anything we should be afraid of?”

“I haven’t seen any creatures I couldn’t cup in my hand,” said Machen.

“It’s been intense, but we’ve found a haven. We have to enjoy it. Also, am I the only one who’s not hungry?”

“I’m full.”

“I could use a bite.”

“Coran, how much Litriol water have you had?”

“A lot.”

“That proves it then. Litriol water: it keeps you nourished as well as hydrated. You should drink more of it, Machen.”

“I know that already,” he said slowly. Holding his nose, he stuck his face in the lake and drank until he couldn’t drink anymore. “That good enough?”

Steph laughed and said, “We’re all set now.”

I got out of the water, dried my body with an assortment of leaves, and sat down between Machen and Steph. Mina was an exuberant pink circle. Deka was a shy silver semicircle. They were high in the sky, and the warm colors of their moonbeams mixed with the cool tones of Litriol. The stars twinkled softly, content with their minor roles in this visual orchestra.

“It’s not enough to make you forget,” I said. “But it’s enough to make you hope.”