Everyone remained silent and An Long was somewhat cut off. He took another swig from his mug of beer, which was already warm. From all the talking, he had forgotten to drink. What a mess.

No one was used to silence in that tavern, and perhaps that was why no one dared to break it. Fortunately, there was someone who, unconsciously, did.

First it was very faint, but the second snore caught everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to Alden. The drunk was sprawled on the floor, his head resting on a small barrel that he hugged with both arms as if it were a pillow.

Torven woke him up by slapping him. The young beardless boy didn’t seem to feel any pain, and opened his eyes reluctantly. Everyone laughed at him. He closed his eyes again and shifted his position, trying to take the barrel with him, but it fell on him. He struggled hard to free himself from the barrel, and after a moment’s hesitation, managed to struggle to his feet. From his expression, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. Or that he had been surrounded by hundreds of enemies.

“What the hell... Where...? What are you all doing in my house?”

“This is old Sigurd’s tavern!” someone said.

“Alden, don’t you remember anything I told you? You asked me to tell how I became a dragon rider.”

The guy stared at An Long with a dumb look on his face. Then he looked at the empty glass he was holding as if it were part of his own hand. He frowned.

“Oh... Yeah... Yeah, right. Just a moment. I remember... Yes... Yes! I thought I was dreaming it! Isn’t it incredible? Ha! So it’s true. And what are we waiting for to go see that little dragon?”

“Mhhhh...”

“Come on! I’m just passing through, and I don’t want to miss this chance to ride a dragon!”

Alden left the hovel without asking permission. Who needed permission to leave a place like this? The stranger moved so suddenly and so coolly that he surprised everyone. In fact, he did so well that no one would have remotely imagined the amount of wine he had guzzled. An Long stood up fearful that something might happen, intending to go after him. A drunk approaching a primordial dragon could not be a good idea.

He bid Harald an affectionate farewell, thanked him for the hospitality and explained that he had to continue his journey. He greeted all those present, who were about to cheer him on the spot. He made his way through some of the more inebriated and happy villagers and reached the door, which was already open.

The evening light bathed his field of vision. Had they spent so much time in there? He had only stopped to eat, and had ended up staying all afternoon. He cursed to himself, he couldn’t dawdle that long at every stop he made to rest his ass or stretch his legs. He had a mission, damn it.

He spotted Alden in the distance, running in fits and starts towards the river. It was quite likely that Tiranior had gone to the river. A pang of fear ran through his whole body. He didn’t want to be responsible for any accidents.

“Wait!”

An Long couldn’t believe it. How could he run so fast when he was drunk as a skunk? He saw him cross the stable and head for the bridge. He sensed Tiranior’s presence nearby.

By the time he reached the small viaduct, Alden had already jumped into the water, or maybe he had fallen in, but there he was, splashing around like a dog in an area where the water was barely up to his chest. He managed to swim with difficulty to the bank on the other side, where the huge black dragon was resting, eyes closed, head crestfallen and leaning out into the current.

“Dragon! Dragon!” it bellowed.

An Long hurried across the bridge to the other side, where Tiranior was sleeping peacefully. But Alden was the first to arrive. Undaunted, he went straight to the animal’s head. Seeing that it did not react to his words, he decided to open one eye, lifting with one hand the huge eyelid that covered it. Nothing. Then he began to poke its snout. It seemed that he was examining the beast’s jaws as if he were its dentist. He gave several blows, as if checking its solidity. Then, as An Long was about to come, the drunkard was startled. He left his fangs alone and took a gamble: he shoved both his fists into the dragon’s nostrils and... it worked.

Eyes as black as night snapped open. The neck tensed and all its scales vibrated. The legs moved, slowly, to lift the weight of its own body. With the sun already hiding behind its back, the dragon cast a gigantic shadow over Alden. The guy stood by, his neck craned back, his mouth open and an empty glass in his hand that he hadn’t dropped even as he fell into the river and tried to swim to shore.

An Long, a few feet away from the scene, held his breath. The dragon lowered its snout to sniff the subject in front of it. It came so close that the exhaled air ruffled the fur of the foolish man. The dragon sniffed him for a long time. Then it opened its jaws. It stuck out its bluish forked tongue and... licked his face.

“Yuck, disgusting!” he exclaimed.

An Long then approached, pleasantly surprised. It was the first time Tiranior had ever made an affectionate gesture to a human other than himself. And he did it again! Again he ran his fetid tongue through his hair. Alden tried to pull away, but it was useless. The dragon had already drooled all over him.

“It’s strange...”

“Strange? It’s disgusting! What a fucking dragon! It looks like a giant slug!”

“It’s as if it recognizes you...” The rider stood next to his mount to caress its scales.

“Oh right, why didn’t I remember before, I invited him to my house for dinner the other day!” Alden replied as he tried to wipe his hair with the grass in a most laughable posture, “How could your dragon recognize me? It’s impossible!”

“I know it’s impossible! It’s been asleep for centuries!” Even An Long’s patience knew its limits, and when he was drunk Alden had the ability to exasperate anyone.

“Oh yeah, do these things sleep that long? I’ll have to go wake one up for myself. Where did you say they usually are? You said something about a comb, didn’t you?”

“The Sky Comb,” confirmed the rider as he climbed onto the dragon. There they are, in the Apprentice Well, surrounded by the highest peaks in the world.

“Good. I don’t suppose you’d be so kind as to give me a lift, would you?”

“It would be a real pleasure, but duty calls, Alden Debald, and I’ve been delayed long enough.”

“Well, I think walking will do me good. I’m a little... Dizzy. Where are you going, my friend... Ba Bong?”

“An Long,” he laughed. “I’m going to explore Lor’Horn’s domain.”

“Lor’Horn! Yes, I’ve heard about it. The upheaval in the sky and all that. Be careful mate, rumors are circulating that a great war is brewing there. I wish you the best of luck, and hope our paths cross again someday!

And so, soaked and drunk, Alden turned around and swam across the river, skipping the bridge barely thirty paces away and still with the empty glass clutched in his hand as if it were part of it.

An Long shook his head, smiling. Some people had no solution. He spurred Tiranior and the huge critter lifted its wings to, seconds later, be soaring through the skies. Heading south. Heading for the source of Evil.