by Marie Daye
“For a short time, we sought peace with mankind. But the talk of peace quickly turned to bloodshed. Not long after, we learned of traitors among the dragon race. They were aiding mortals, killing their own kind, and that’s when we learned of the first slayer. This war has been longer, and more complicated than you were led to believe. There are more details I could go into, but at this moment: it's pointless.”
“Why did the Gods not intervene?”
“I wish I knew. Sometimes, they meddle in situations they should not. Like this one, the magic that Loki provided you, if he hadn’t I-” He gestured towards himself. “-would not look like this.”
“Why was peace unable to be attained? If both parties wanted it, what stopped it?”
He gritted his teeth again, stretching his neck. “It’s complicated.”
“It can't be terribly complicated.”
He exhaled slowly again, his nostrils flaring as he felt himself growing impatient with the conversation. “A friend, she was murdered during the meeting.”
“Oh.” She stared at him with a questioning expression, then glancing at the candle that had roughly a quarter amount remaining. “Was it a dragon or mortal who killed her?”
“No, yes, in a way it was both. One of the kings of the land joined forces with the dragons who betrayed me, they killed her during the peace talk. They knew that if I lost her, that I would not be able to contain my fury.”
“She was that important to you?”
“She was.”
She went silent again, the two staring at inanimate objects around the room while listening to the gentle rain fall. She felt calmer, the images of her nightmare fading as their conversation progressed. Eskil had provided more information than she expected, but she greatly appreciated the new facts. The dragons did not start out as the cruel and merciless rulers she thought they were. It made more sense now once she learned what had happened, but it didn't change the fact that here they were, still at war.
“Do you still want to be at war? With mortals, I mean.”
“Honestly, I don't know how to answer that. My hatred for your kind knows no bounds, but the killing cannot continue. Eventually, one of our races will die out.” He sarcastically laughed. “I think yours will be the first, your bodies are so weak and fragile. Besides, your only one of a few slayers left in existence: you can't hope to slay all of us.”
Her expression turned solemn and she looked away. “I hope it doesn't come to that.”
Eskil sighed again, the more he laid here with her, the more relaxed and tired he became. It was unnatural how comfortable he was being near her like this. She felt warm and soft, it was surprising. He was laying across a dragon slayer, he wasn't trying for her life, nor was she trying for his. It was… strange. His mind was getting fuzzy, and his eyelids were growing heavy. Libelle looked at him confused. “Eskil?”
Once again, everything went dark. Libelle flinched when Eskil’s eyes closed, his head slipping from his hand and onto her chest. Her blush was almost instant, and she held in her squeak of surprise. He was already in a deep sleep, a faint snore passing his parted lips. In the dim light, his expression was peaceful.
She tried moving away from him, pushing up with her arms and trying to slide upwards in the bed. Instead, Eskil made a growl-like noise in his sleep and wrapped his arms around her. His cheek rubbed against her chest with a sigh, scooting his body further onto the bed while making himself comfortable.
Libelle froze, unsure what to do. Her arms remained above her head while she stared down at her defenseless foe. He had let his guard down, he allowed himself to appear incredibly weak in front of her. Why?
Eskil woke early in the morning, bright sunlight was shining in through the window and illuminating the room. He didn't want to wake yet, so he snuggled back into the warm and comfortable pillow… That had a heart beat? A fast one at that.
He raised his head and realized he was laying on Libelle. Her cheeks were pink, her expression tired with dark circles beneath her eyes. Her hands were resting on the pillow beside her head and she was chewing on her lower lip.
He quickly realized that he had fallen asleep sprawled out on top of her, and he had been like that half the night. He pushed himself up, staring down at her embarrassed self. “Ah, good morning.”
“G-good morning as well.”
“Eh-hem. Did you sleep well?”
“Not a wink. You?”
“Like a bairn.”
“Ah, that's good. Do you mind getting off of me? You’re heavy.”
Chapter Ten
The pair left the dry warmth of the inn during the early morning, entering the streets that were filled with large and deep puddles. The cool and crisp air biting at their skin made them both pull their furs tighter to their bodies. The morning sun was rising slowly, its light casting the only warmth available onto the landscape. Mounting their horses, they rode in silence. Each lost in their own thoughts.
Eskil’s body was becoming more familiar with riding, and despite the aches and pains it caused him he was not jostled around in his saddle anymore. His mind was tangled in webs, and he didn’t know which route of the webs he should take. He was disappointed in himself. How much had he hated Libelle over the last few years? He was so incredibly angry with her, her blasted interference with her magic and the gods help.
He wanted to return to his true form, he wanted his wings back. That much was true. However, was it still the truth that he still wanted her life? Her blood on his hands? It was growing more and more frustrating by the second. Nothing was making sense when it came to her anymore. He didn’t have any answers, for any of it.
The day passed quietly and smoothly, the last day of their journey to her home was ending fast. Another quaint town slowly coming into their view. Libelle had stared straight ahead the entire ride, she never once spoke to him nor did she ever look at him. She seemed distracted by something.
They approached the town, and he was surprised to see so few people crowding the street. Libelle dismounted her stallion once they neared the first building, then leading him down the main road of the small town called Lowestoft. It was nearing evening, and many shops were closing for the night as families returned to their cottages for meal time and rest. The sun was just beginning to dip in the sky, notifying the land they had roughly three hours of sunlight left. They had about an hours’ worth of riding left to do to reach home. Eskil dismounted and stretched his legs before he walked his horse beside Libelle. There were few people out in the town, while several guards paced the roads eyeing him suspiciously.
Libelle nodded towards a few of the guards she recognized, but never stopped for conversation. They passed the iron workers forge, and they both sniffed the air. There was a certain aroma that struck his nose as they weaved in between people, an aroma that he would not label as delightful. The smell got stronger as they neared the outskirts of the small town and Eskil could not help but cover his nose with his hand.
Just outside the town behind the guard tower was the corpse of a rotting dragon, one that had been slain more than just a few days ago. The size of it indicated it was fairly young, and he did not recognize it in this state. Scales had been ripped from its tough hide, and it looks like the villagers had begun to cut into its body to salvage its bone. The dragon did not go down easily, its body was maimed by spears and blades. Lacerations were scattered across its body, many were unclear if they were made before or after death.
He watched as Libelle paused for moment, gazing at the dragon's body with a numb expression. She stood still for just a minute longer, then gathered her stallion's reins tighter in her hands and began walking forward.
She wasn't going to stop? How dare she!
Eskil growled and grabbed Libelle by her arm, squeezing it tightly and yanking her back. “You have the nerve to condemn me? Accusing me of murder in cold blood, even accusing me of the murder of mortals that never experienced my roar. You call me death-bringer. Monster.”
He pointed to the dead dragon and spoke in a whisper. “Who is the monster here? This is your kind’s fault, when dragons kill a mortal it is fast. Painless. Necessary. When mortals kill a dragon, it is some sick display of power that your kind do not have. Mortals attempt to rule the world.”
Libelle pulled her arm from his tight grip, “We are leaving.”
He stopped her again, standing behind her he hissed into her ear. “You cannot call my kin vile, when man are just as cruel. Dragons kill to keep balance in the land, I was named death-bringer when I protected what was mine, it is not a title that I obtained willingly, but your kin treat it like it was. Man fight for sport, kill for sport, for power. There is no reason for your killing. Dragons are no more a monster than the mortals.”
She tried to pull away again, “We need to move away from here.” She looked around to see if anyone had noticed them, thanking the God’s that no one had. Yet.
“Dragons were brought into this world for peace, to keep peace: to protect it. Mortals destroyed that peace when they rebelled against our power, against our protection. They corrupted the dragons with their evil ways. Man. Corrupted. Me.”
She shook her head, “We are leaving. Let's go.”
She tried to step forward again, to try and move away from him and his cousin's body. She showed no remorse for its death.
Eskil hissed into her ear again. “You need to look at that young dragon, barely an adult. Like a child to my kind. Man killed him, by the looks of it they ripped him from the sky and slowly slaughtered him. Tortured him. How can you expect-”
Eskil planted his feet firmly on the ground when she yanked hard, trying to pull herself free; her right hand tangling into her horse's mane and her left arm still caught in his vice-like grip. She coughed and bent forward, her stomach churning before she vomited.
Eskil’s grip tightened when he felt her begin to slump forward. “By the Gods, what the hell is wrong with you?!”
He jerked her back up, her body slamming into his chest: he twisted her arm behind her back and growled when he felt a pain similar to what she was experiencing. Blasted curse. Her head dangled down to the ground and he curled his fingers into her hair and pulled her head back against his shoulder, her eyes were closed tightly and she was biting her lip.
“Open your eyes dragon slayer, and look at what your kin have done. The same thing you chastise my kin for.” His grip in her hair tightened and he twisted her arm more, he felt the spark of pain explode in his stomach and he loosened his grip. The pain served more as a warning to him this time, but he still did not let her go. They were out of the prying eyes of the villagers, standing outside the gates and near a stone wall. If a guard were to venture outside the gates, he may find them: but for now they had privacy.
“Look at me.” He growled. “Dragon slayer, Libelle.”
Her name came out softer than he expected, however that may have been the only reason her eyes slowly fluttered open. To his surprise, there were tears forming in them, pain and fear swirling about in those blue orbs. Her lower lip still pinched between her teeth. He released his grip on her arm, instead wrapping his arm around her waist. His hand still tangled in her hair, gentler now but still alarmingly in control. He glanced upwards towards the corpse of his fallen kin, and realization struck him.
A dragon slayer was once a dragon, one who had killed another dragon in their past life. They were cursed and reborn a mortal, a lesser being. Even in their new life, the slayers still killed the dragons. Eskil felt the energy within Libelle break, she was growing weak suddenly. It all made sense to him, and he realized what type of cursed being Libelle was. She wasn’t your typical slayer.
If he had not had his arm around her waist, her knees would have collapsed underneath her and she would have fallen to the ground. Libelle swallowed back a wave of tears that she could not control, not even in front of him. She cried silently, never raising her voice or raising alarm. She grabbed his forearm that was still around her and tried to push it away, trying to get him to release her.
“If I let you go, you're going to fall.” Eskil said, still to his surprise; his voice was calm and gentle.
“Then I fall.” She said, her voice was shaky but still she pushed her strength through.
He didn't let her go, instead he freed his one hand from her hair and wrapped both hands around her waist; then his grip shifted to both her hips where he effortlessly lifted her up, and not-so-gently tossed her over his shoulder. He held onto the waistband of her pants and took both horses reins in his free hands.
He started walking up the paved hill, mulling over his own thoughts as Libelle wiped away her tears embarrassed. He didn't know where exactly he was going, all he knew was he was supposed to follow this path until they reached a shattered boulder: then he was supposed to turn left somewhere. At least that is what she had told him.
It would have been easier to toss her onto her horse and lead them where he chose, but he doubted she would sit quietly after what he had just witnessed. She’d most likely take the first chance and bolt away, leaving him to chase after her on his exhausted gelding. It just wasn't worth the trouble.
He walked around a bend in the road, removing Lowestoft out of both their views. The bend led to a hill, causing the road to weave back and forth into a patchy forest. He started to slowly stomp up the hill, gazing at the river that lazily flowed back towards the town. He eyed a smooth grassy path that overlooked the river and setting sun and headed towards that.
“I have not seen a slayer like you… in thousands of years.” He said quietly.
Chapter Eleven
“I have not seen a slayer like you… in thousands of years.”
She didn't respond, but he felt her put her hands against his hips, her back arched and her head turned towards him. “There was only one other like you, at least only one that I knew of. That was in the time that the mortals had first begun to attack my kin. It was around the time that first slayer was born.”
He stepped around the remains of a tree, a rough stump protruding from the ground was all that was left of it. The horses put their heads down and began grazing on the lush grass when he came to a stop, shifting Libelle’s weight and setting her down in front of him. There was still pain in her eyes, red from her tears, and her lower lip was swollen from her biting it.
Eskil sighed, running a hand through his hair and untangling the knot that had formed around one of his horns. He stared out into the distance, past Libelle: gazing out at the landscape. The stone paved road was behind him, grass and weeds beneath his feet, the river led to a large lake and past that was high mountains. He felt small when he looked at the land from this height, he felt small. He wasn't able to return to the skies like he typically would be. He stood toe to toe with a slayer, he had to still look down at her short self, but it was still so different.
His hand ran through his hair again, then down over his closed eyes to his chin. He opened them slowly, Libelle was still standing in front of him but now her back was turned to him. Her arms were crossed over her chest and was rubbing her upper arms, her shoulders lifted high as she stared out at the river and lake.
He had never realized she was this sort of slayer, one they never were able to find a name for. He had only met one like her before, and he remembered her clearly. “Libelle, have you ever met another slayer?”
She shook her head and he sighed. “What is a slayer to you?”
Her voice shook, “I am a cursed creature. I was a dragon in a previous life, and in that past life I killed another dragon. Because of that, if I kill another dragon in this life I feel everything they felt at their time of death.”
He chuckled, “So you do feel their pain.”
She looked at him puzzled, and he continued. “Libelle, it is extremely rare for a slayer to be born like you. Like I said, I only knew of one other like you. It is not normal for a slayer to feel the dragon’s death that is what makes you unique.”
“A slayer is not supposed to feel their pain?” She asked confused.
“Why do you think we call them dragon slayers? Slayers are cursed beings who thrive from the murder of my kin, you don’t thrive from it. It hurts you instead.”
She wanted to cry, but instead she forced herself to listen to him as he spoke.
“The one that was like you, she…” He paused. “She was more faithful to the dragons. She was a cursed being, nicknamed a slayer, but she was not a killer of dragons, she was… How do I describe her?”
He closed his eyes again for a moment, “She was strong and defiant. She had a mind of her own, a will-power that couldn't be matched, more stubborn than I could ever be. She was skilled in combat, in both swordplay and in magic. She was powerful but delicate.”
Libelle turned her head towards him, but not her whole body. He could see the remains of tears on her cheeks, a droplet of blood had welled up on her lip. Her icy eyes looked to the ground when she spoke. “You speak as if you loved her.”
After a moment he responded, a weak smile on his face. “She was beautiful.”
He watched Libelle turn the rest of the way to him, her brow was arched and her expression was questioning. In his mortal form, it was harder to hide his expressions from her. Mortal’s feelings were easy to read through their facial expression, they could be sad, happy, and angry: and by looking at their face you would know which it was. She didn't say anything, probably didn't know what to say. She stared at him for a few seconds, before lowering her eyes and brushing her hair behind her pointed ear.
“She could kill a dragon if she needed to, however with their death she felt it as if it were their own. She absorbed all of their pain and emotions it felt during its death. It brought agonizing pain, terrifying nightmares, and each life she took changed her little by little. Different than all other dragon slayer she was more of an outcast, but was accepted by the dragons. She played with our hatchlings, meditated with the elders, she even flew with us.”