We spent an hour on Sven with no luck on his return. Steph wasn't panicked though, figuring the stud will find a way to us eventually.  With my spare clothes on the missing horse, I was stuck with the troll covered mess.

"It's not that bad," Steph said, lacing his fingers behind his head to complete his look of ease. "Easier to sniff you out if you get lost." 

"Comforting."  I'm starting to believe I'm the reason why Sven kept his distance.  "Has he done this before?"

"What, leaving? Of course. Any excuse he got, he used it, and I used to rack my brain over it. But in the end, as long as he comes back, I don't bother to care so much. These three weeks we spent has been the longest time I ever had with him at once. I think he likes you." 

With a shrug, I looked around for something to study other than his tall frame. Nothing compared. "So why Yurk?"

"Took you this long to ask?"

"The mystery had its charm for a while. I thought the kingdom had a hero already sworn to it." 

"It did. But that ended when my master fell in battle against a--" his lips locked over the forbidden word. "...spell caster. It's my duty to take his place to honor all he has done for me. Without him, I wouldn't be here with my favorite bard. He saved me."

I knew nothing of Steph's past, where he lived, his family, nor who he was before deciding this life. I'm often met with a brick wall when I try to get something more than the postcard of information he gave the day we met. He saves people. He had a master. A convenient wizard friend is thrown in there somewhere. And Women? I never got a straight answer.  I'm not owed anything, nor want him to think that I am. I just something that's a secret to strangers.  "Did you ever want to be a hero?"

There was a rare pause for thought, his eyes to the tree tops. "I believe so. Somehow I'll make it work." 

There was a cry for help that brought him back to earth and us running down to path to the source. 

There was an old man, clothed in robes of different hues and skin heavily tattooed in runes, scrambling into view. The color in the eyes were more vivid than a normal person's, as though molded after the stars the markings represented.  He saw us and we knew there was no turning back. 

Stephan:

I placed my arm in front of Wes as the man scrambled closer. "If I give the call, run. And try not to trip over everything."

"I don't trip over everything."

"Sweetie, even a new born calf has better agility than you."  

Wes opened his mouth to object, but I cut him off when the old goof came into earshot. With all those tattoos, no wonder he lived to be this old. 

"You must help me!" he shrilled, taking hold of my clothes, yanking me to his level. "An evil force has risen and it must be stop! AHHH!"

I resisted the urge to pry his fingers off, "Evil force, meaning?"

"It came from the tower we thought was abandon, large and as dark as a starless night! It flew over my people, burning all of us in its sights. Oh, it was horrible! All of it...my life I once knew is now ash!"

"Hold on. You said it flew?" I imagine the troll flying, but even that was too stupid for nature.

"A dragon!"

"I see..." I gave out a breath, feeling something off in those eyes. "It couldn't be one, old man. A rune mage like you should know this." 

"I know what I saw!" 

"They've been slain. All of them." 

"You must believe me. Go see for yourself, then." He pushed me free from his grasp. "I know what attacked my people." 

Wes and I looked at each other. "Fine. I'll see what I do to avenge your people and your livelihood. Where is this tower?"

He points to the east where spring skipped. Before the man could say more, I headed off with Wes wishing him luck a little too soon. 

"Are we seriously going to fight a dragon?" 

Wesley:

Mist ringed the hunched over trees that replicated disfiguring hands reached out to shake ours, entangling themselves as we walked on this different path that slithered ahead of us. It felt colder here for obvious reasons. Steph stayed vigilant to his blurred surroundings, a different tone from earlier.

"About the dragon..."

"There is no dragon. Just like I told the old goof. It could've been a large bird and in the panic they set themselves on fire." 

"How are you so sure all dragons are dead?" 

He waved off the question, having no answer. "What I'm more curious about is the old goof himself. Didn't he come off as strange to you?"

He did. "I thought he was a worshiper of the stars."  There a few left in the realm, driven off along with those who truly believed in the old gods into forests like these. The ones who refused to move met their end on the pillars of the new religion as an example. At least, that's what the songs had taught me. 

Steph had a different theory. "I believe that he wasn't a human at all. Not a pinch of him felt grounded in those eyes. Sure, he just lost his family and friends 'n all, but even that felt masked." 

"So you're saying this could be a trap."

"Your words, not mine. I'm still planning on checking out the tower though, maybe something worth discovering. You don't have to come, you know. Since it could be dangerous."

"Ha! Like I didn't experience that before." The snort I made wasn't cute, but it got a smirk on Steph's lips.  "All you got is me to watch your back if shit hits. Though it would've been smarter if you chose someone with blade skills as a companion, than a bard who can only sing about how you perished. At least then you would know you'll be getting out of it alive." 

With a chuckle, he shook his head, looking so perfect in this creepy ass mist that grew even thicker as minutes ticked by. "You're the only one I want by my side, Wes. And I'm sorry I don't say it enough. So what if you lack the skills to save yourself? I’m good enough with my blade to make up for it. Everyone else is just...insufferable." 

"Yet, you want to be a hero." I passed him to take the lead, trying to look as confidant as he did with my chin held high. "Lets get this almost death experience over with shall we? Yurk needs you." 

Amused, he played along.

Bodies appeared in bunches, piled on the side of the path, and still smoldering with their burnt flesh dripping off their bones. Still smelled better than that troll.  Or me at the moment.

Steph pulled up fabric from around his neck to shield himself from the smell, gazing at the discarded weapons that had their own sectional pile, covered heavily in runes like the old man was. Kneeling down, he picked one up, a long sword. Beautifully forged, it matched his own shorter one. "Magic users," he concluded, examining the markings. "These were used to replace the lack of magic to whoever wields them. Quite ballsy, actually. One wrong stroke in the runes and you'll have a guy eating his friends in no time."

"Did your wizard friend tell you that?"

"Perhaps." His eyes caught something and reached for it. From under a burnt limb, he pull out the very thing that would've been the first to be ash. A lute. It was well preserved, looking brand new with all the strings attached. Just like the sword, a lot of love was put in making the instrument. Better than my lute on Sven.  On the edging were the same kind of runes, dancing to an imaginary tune I wish I could hear. 

"It's beautiful," I say, accepting it when Steph handed it over. I played with some of the strings to get a feel of it. "I'm surprised it survived." The runes glowed as if charging up.

"Play a song," He suggested. 

"Wouldn't that attract unwanted attention? I don't about you, but I like my un-crispy self." 

"Again, dragons are--" 

“Slain, forgotten, whatever,” I sighed, filtering through what I knew. I settled on one called Hidden Eyes, meant to reveal who was really hiding. Most songs were spells long ago, longer than man had cities to call home. As a bard with no magic to his name, it never went beyond a playful tune. I closed my eyes, letting my fingers flow against the strings with more purpose. I feel something add on, soaking my fingertips with power I knew I wasn't born with.  I felt my normal senses expand, revealing all the life and layers of the forest. Nothing felt out of reach. I saw the now evening sun sailing to the horizon. I saw every mouse burrowing to safety from the hawk that hunts them. I saw the streams and game that flourished from it. 

But it wasn't what I was looking for. I needed to focus.  My sense of body was gone, I might as well be floating. I allowed the song to pull my conscious above the misty trees and the cliffs where the old tower sits, weathered from the years. What perched itself on top caught my breath.  

Midnight scales covered the body of a monstrous beast, still as a statue, talons splintering the stone that supported it. The throat mimicked ember, still cooling off, and its eyes, gold and wide, peered down where Steph and I stood. It sensed me. I know it has. For a voice as old as time itself echoed in my mind.  "You come for the stone like all the others, haven't you? Just like Eldric predicted. Play your tunes, bard. I know you see me..."

My song stops abruptly, pulling my sense of vision back it its small normal self. I felt smaller now with out the range. 

"Wes?" I hear Steph say. I looked at him, startled. I knew what I saw was real. I just played hide-and-go-seek with a dragon.

Stephan:

Wes was gone from the world while his fingers danced along the strings. The runes flared with new life as music came from his well trained finger tips. I waited, finding that snapping my fingers in his face gave no reaction. I hope he was alright.

His brown eyes shot open. I never saw him pale so fast. "Wes?"

He looked at me, "You told they were gone."

Because they were. They should be. "There's not enough magic."

"You were wrong about the troll," he pointed out, "and you're wrong about this too. I saw it.  It's watching us...I heard it speak to me." 

"The elders said--"

"I guess they're wrong too," he hissed, holding the poor lute like a struggling goose, "I think it's all connected." 

"Enlighten me." A thunderous roar broke out above the mist, the sound of wings going airborne followed after. A silhouette shot past us, sending out another war cry along the way. "Alright, fine. There's dragons."

"Perhaps magic isn't dying after all..." Wes eyed the misty world to catch another glimpse of our lizard friend. 

If magic is returning to the realm, dragons will be least of our problems. Where is going? Was it guarding something? 

"What do we do now?" Wes's small voice asked. He already knew the answer. "Steph, no." 

"We did make a promise to the old goof."

"Because we thought he was crazy!"

"A promise is a promise, my dear bard."  I offered him my hand, freeing my sword once more. He stared at it. "Will you accompany me?"

We raced, either to hasten our demise or out run reason. Wes squeezed my hand once the tower came through the mist, old and crumbling. Where an entrance once stood was a large gaping hole, big enough to fit a certain lizard. Stairs faltered from the same treatment, parts missing entirely on our up them. 

Though the dragon was gone, I felt its stare picking me apart piece by piece, leaving nothing in the dark. My sense of the here and now began to fray at the edges and shifting out of my grasp. The mist crawled until there was nothing left but the cloud. I stopped, hearing voices all around me.

Wes's hand was yanked from mine, only to grasp again the moment I turn my head, seeing him emerge from the mist. The fear he had was gone. "Sorry, I tripped! Clumsy me."

"Right. Clumsy you." I let go of his hand and he tilted his head, drawing closer to me.  His skin had no mark, not even the scar he had on his bottom lip from his attempt at sword training, nor the pale freckles that dusted his nose. I didn't like this version at all. "Question."

"Yes, Stephan?" Even the voice sounded off. 

"What's your favorite dessert?" 

The mimic chuckled, placing a hand to "Wes's" lips. At least they got that detail right. "Pie, of course! We shared one three days ago at an inn. Some of the filling got on your chin and I wiped it off. You were fond of that, you silly goof!"

"Silly me," I smirked. In a flash my blade was pressed on the mimic's neck, drawing blood. It flinched, keeping Wes's image there, a face of shock and fear. "Because last time I was there it was cake. And it wasn't an inn, it was at farm house since we had no coins to spare. Now, before I free your fucking head off your shoulders and end your wasted existence, where is the real Wesley of Erns?"