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Note to Readers: Happy New Year Everyone! May this one prove to be a better one than the last.

Her lips pursued thoughtfully at that, she let her eyes slowly move to the huge line of god’s teeth that cut the land in half, splitting the countries of Caldasher and Orkeylium, while intersecting with Kahloon, Drakas’ home. The ruined grey stronghold that they were now within, like a small flickering candle in the breeze against these gigantic monoliths that dominated the horizon like islands in the clouds.

When Shureen muttered softly, “We would have to offer Drakkarl a gift.”

Kirgin, however prepared for that answer, replied with a wry smile, “It is better than staying here. The longer that we do nothing, the higher the chance that they will all eventually turn against you. Let their minds be focused on something else.”

And to his surprise she let out a warm chuckle and tweaked his cheek affectionately. “When did you become so wise, my little friend?”

His flushed red as she looked down at him, he wanted to say that he was not, that it was her voice that guided him, if only to see her smile again. But as her gaze drifted back up to the scars on his forehead, he couldn't help but feel a swell of shame, and the compulsive need to yank the hood down even further.

He had become so used to the disgusted stares of the others, but with her, it was different. He couldn’t accept the pity that he saw her eyes. It reminded him too much that he was an abomination. That there was none in this world like him. Never would he find a mate. Never would he find a home that was his own, and never would he belong to anything. Worse still, were the questions that came along with it.

But to his luck this time she did not ask him, but instead looked away, and sensed that her thoughts were elsewhere. Most likely to that big buffoon of a warrior she called Drakas, who had helped to save her people, and yet dropped them here in the middle of nowhere. Surely, it would have been more prudent to send them to a city? Or a place more populated than this? And yet he would often find the young ogress pining off for him in her watchtower, her expression forlorn as she mouthed a silent prayer to the icy cold tundra.

The first time he had realized that she would go missing was several days ago, after a particularly bad storm, and he caught her walking barefoot at night. Probably for the sake of stealth. But she was still pretty loud, and he followed her out into one the ruined tower bastions that had large gaping rent in its side, its roof crumbling inward as her eyes wet with tears whispered a prayer to the Lightbearer.

Most times he would have said nothing to her, but with things moving around her that she could not see. He began to fear that she was losing focus. Old tribes were beginning to reform again, old racial hatreds were being reborn, and without Drakas or Shureen to guide them, they had begun to look to their own leaders like Talak for support.

It also didn’t help that he was a broken experiment without a voice even among his own people. Still, he would do what he could to protect her, and as though sensing his thoughts, she smiled, and patted him on the arm. “Very well, Kiri, we shall leave tomorrow.” Then as an afterthought, she whispered, “Where are you Drakas? Come home. We need you.”

~*~

His mind fluttering in and out of the darkness, Drakas thought he felt strong hands lift him up out of the snow, and glimpsed Wudon’s wrinkled old grey face, while his son Tershan, a handsome young ogre of twenty seven years swung Drakas’ arm around his thick bull neck, and carried him in between them. His feet dragging in snow behind him as all he could think about was this was not how he was supposed to meet Rayela again. He had wanted to sweep her up into his arms, hug her close to his chest, and feel her heart beat again. Each thud, a promise, that he would never leave her. But it seems all his plans were for nought, and yet more than anything he wanted her to be here? Hoped that she was still alive, and that the demon had not been lying to him, when he felt a sharp stab of pain that caused his back to spasm.

Patting him lightly on the back, Wudon grunted, “not much further now, young one.”

And much to Drakas’ surprise, he felt his mind becoming clearer, and he was able to focus his attention on the hundreds of newly built ogre dwellings that were made of stone, appearing like round boulders sliced in half down the centre, and formed into two crescent moons that opened up in the middle to where hundreds of his people milled about to stare at him. The dozens of dark caverns that blemished the side of the mountain further back, filled with women that ladled food into cookpots, darned clothing with needles, and tried to clean up the mess that had now become their home with more than a few caves decorated with ornaments.

Never in Drakas’ life had he seen so many ogrekans together, and for the first time in many years, he could feel himself beginning to relax, and let himself be carried up. Wudon and Tershan taking him along a beaten path that ran through the middle of the encampment, past a low wall that they had built for themselves, and towards a large cavern that opened its mouth high up above him. His first thought upon approaching the winding stone staircase that was cut into face of the mountain, was that this place must have been old with stones smoothed by age, covered in snow, and dirt, when he heard a mighty roar from above him, and looked up to see an immense dark shadow enter the cavern, and thought for sure that he must be hallucinating.

Tershan, however, reading his thoughts, grinned, and shrugged his shoulders. “Drakkarl has offered us sanctuary.”

His throat aching with pain, he wanted to scream, “You would trust a dragon?” Of the three that lived in this part of the world, one was a grumpy old bastard that despised ogrekans, the other hunted his kind for supper, and the last preferred seclusion high atop his mountain.

But this time it was Wudon who answered his unspoken question, his rheumy brown eyes moist with tears as though remembering something from the past. “Young’un, you’ve been too long away from home for you to understand what has happened here. If you had seen the hordes of demons, necromancers, and undead that plagued our lands. You would understand that we have no choice.”

Shocked into stunned silence as he tried to collect his thoughts, he couldn’t help but wonder if this had anything to do with Tazrael? Or the demon that spoke to him inside of his mind? When again as if sensing his thoughts, the demon chuckled, “my son has grown bold of late, but in the end he will still fail. He is still far too predictable.”

Still in a daze, he mumbled, “Tazrael is your son?”

“Yes, and a foolish one at that. But he will soon learn. As will you.”

Strength returning to his limbs, Drakas could feel his aches and pains disappear, and with a little help from Wudon, he was able to stand on his own two feet, when the gnarled old ogre looked down at him in wonder. “Blessed be, your wounds are gone.”

Shrugging it off as if it was a common occurrence, he gazed up at the lair of the dragon, his mind still whirring at what had happened to his people, when Tershan spoke again, “You must first speak with Drakkarl if you wish to stay here. If you have the strength to go on alone, it would be better since he does not like too many visitors.”

Mouthing a word of thanks to the two of them, he could sense their questions, and had more than a few of his own, but he had his own goals to tend to, the least of which was finding Rayela. Still as he gathered himself, he decided it would be best to see this scalyhide first. After all, dragons were not known for their patience. At least not this one.

Pulling himself free of Wudon’s sturdy calloused grip, he continued the steady climb upward, following the sheer rock face around, going up through its many twists and turns. And noticed that the well trodden path was mostly cleared of snow, and decorated with purple wildflowers that blossomed at the foot of the mountain.

Clambering up through a tight corridor of stone, he passed into a natural archway that led into the opening of a deep cavern, and released a heavy breath as he slowly walked inside, a part of himself terrified at coming up against such a legendary beast. Resting on his haunches in the darkness with the stalagmites, Drakkarl lay easily on his side, his forked tongue flickering out to clean his razor bladed teeth, when he let out a low growl, and flexed his wings.

Easily fifty feet tall, covered in red scales with piercing gold eyes. The dragon cut an impressive figure as he abruptly stood on all fours, and stared down at him, it’s nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air. "And so the wolf arrives in sheep's clothing. Welcome Lord Sezarath, I see you have chosen yourself a Champion. Perhaps indeed the doom times are upon us, and she who gave succour to the world will return once more."

Mouth gaping, his heart almost thumping out of his chest at the booming voice, he stared up into the intelligent yellow eyes of the dragon, and couldn’t help but feel like an insect compared to this great monster. More importantly however, he felt a jolt of realization that the dragon could smell the demon upon him. But before he could ask how he knew? The demon spoke first, “So there are some still few true drakarim in the world. Speak these words to him to let him know that I am here. Greetings dragonflame, may the world be reborn in fire and blood, and your veins burn with everlasting gold.”

Drakas however did not much like the idea of the demon telling him what to do. Bad enough the creature was inside his head without him using his words as well. “I was told to speak with you.”

Lips suddenly curled up into a viscous smile, Drakkarl let out a roar of laughter that thundered against the walls of the cavern. “You’ve chosen well with this one. Perhaps he will survive longer than the others that call themselves ogrekans. Fools who do not understand their own history nor comprehend their glorious past. But enough, I would ask a boon of you, Champion of Sezarath.”

His gaze narrowed as he wondered what this beast could possibly want from him? He wanted to say, ‘no, that he served no one.’ But at the same time he feared the repercussions for his people if he refused. He could not allow them to be driven out of their only sanctuary, and yet he did not wish to be shackled by his word to this monster, that had terrorized his people for centuries.

Eventually realizing he had no choice, he grunted, “Tell me.” And heard the dragon’s belly rumble with more laughter as it casually lay back down again, the ground shaking beneath him as it propped it’s head up on its chin, and chuckled, “very good, grelkanis. You see that tunnel behind me, take it, and retrieve my mace.”

His eyes following the direction of the dragon’s gaze, Drakas could indeed see a passageway that opened up behind the dragon, it’s rough hewn rock walls lined with wooden struts, and puckered with glowing white crystals.

His head turned back, he asked out of curiosity, “why?” And felt the demon inside of him wince, “Perhaps it would have been better if I had chosen a human. They at least understand the will to survive.”

But again the dragon seemed nonplussed by the question and closed his eyes as though he were sleeping, his nostrils flaring to release curls of smoke up into the air as Drakas waited for an answer. If anything however, the dragon’s snores became louder and more pronounced, until Drakas knew for certain that the dragon had fallen asleep on his arm.

Growling underneath his breath at the blind arrogance of lizards, he considered what to do next, when Sezarath snarled, “This is a test, fool! Move! Or die where you stand.”

His feet moving on instinct, he made his way around the sleeping dragon, it’s tail swishing from side to side, and tried to refocus his mind on his goal. He was here to help his people, to find his Rayela, and put an end to the tyranny of the mages. And if that meant fetching the lizard his precious toy, he would do it, but he would put no trust in the word of a dragon. Too often he had seen what trust in the wrong hands could do.

Nearing the tunnel, he entered the open passageway, feeling a warm breeze tickle against him. The crystal gems that dotted the walls glaring into his eyes and as he looked upon strange blue fungi that grew into crevices, he noticed insects skittering across the stone.

Constricting a little near the centre of the tunnel, he felt jagged rock walls brush up against him, when he entered a small circular chamber, formed into a dome that had a single crack of light, and a mace embedded into the stone floor, a mace that glowed with purple flames.

Pulled towards it irresistibly, his hands reached down for it before he even realized what he was doing, and felt a jolt of fire crawl up his bones. His blood suddenly boiling with rage as he wanted to wrestle the weapon free, and go back to slay the dragon, when the hunger abruptly died away and he was left breathless.

Melted slag falling from his hip from what looked to be his old mace, he looked down at the weapon Drakkarl had sent him to retrieve, and felt a moment of recognition at discovering the thing was enchanted. He also wondered too if this was meant to be the test, and hurriedly returned back out the way he had come, and found the dragon waiting for him.

His lips curled into another dry smile that again exposed it’s enormous teeth, Drakkarl nodded his head slightly to him, his voice now solemn. “So let it be, I grant you Harl’s Bane. May it serve you well, grelkanis, and the world be reborn in fire and blood as it should be, and your veins burn with everlasting gold. Go, and take back what is yours.”