Dream - Epilogue (Patreon)

Sam trudged through the knee deep snow, circulating heat through his body.  Even with the magic, the howling wind of the mountain pass was miserable.  On either side of him, ice choked cliff faces glinted in the daylight.

He had been hiking on his own for a full day after Crone Tazzaera began her recovery.  Only the mysteries of heat and oxygen were keeping him upright as he slogged through yet another beautiful but unremarkable valley.

Pausing, he pulled out a piece of fabric he’d gotten from Pothas before he’d been forced to leave his new master behind.  Samazzar squinted at the scrap of cloth, making note of the crude landmarks marked on the hand drawn map.  Nodding to himself, sam rolled it back up before stuffing it in his pouch.

“Not long now,” he muttered to himself, lifting a hand to shield his eyes as he surveyed the rock faces that made up so much of the upper reaches of the mountain.

One span of bare rock didn’t have any ice.  Instead, there was a hint of grass and a decent sized pond of water stretching just outside a ridge of rocks that extended from the cliff face.

Samazzar nodded to himself, changing his direction to head toward the suspicious section of rock.  Each step crunched through the icy crust of the snow, bringing a twinge of icy cold to Sam’s bare calves before his magic warmed them once more.

As he approached, the suspicious area of the stone wall became clearer.  It was originally a pile of boulders, heated until they were molten and fused to each other and the rocky terrain of the mountain.  Samazzar splashed through the water to walk around the barrier, bringing a large concealed cave mouth into sight.

A wave of warm, dry air washed over him, knocking Sam back a step.  A blissful smile fixed itself on his face as he checked his carrying pack.  Once he was sure that everything was there, he leaned over to look into the pond.

He wasn’t a dragon yet, but the smooth earless scalp of a saurian was a vast improvement over the kobold he had once been.  Sam stuck a thumb in his mouth, wetting it before reaching up and buffing out a smear of dirt that marred his scales just above his right eye.

Once he was assured that his scales were as shiny and presentable as they were going to get, Samazzar squared his shoulders and turned toward the cave.  His heart began beating rapidly, but he ignored it.

The second his foot touched the surprisingly warm stone inside the cave, there was a sudden stillness, as if the entire world was holding its breath.  Sam bit his lip, taking another dozen or so steps before he felt a massive heat source moving rapidly toward him.

He stopped, reaching into his pack.  First he removed a translucent but cloudy crystal, twice the size of his fist.  Then, almost reverently, he removed a small glass potion bottle.

Gently, he set it on the ground with a tinkle.  His magic kept the water in the base of the bottle warm and liquid, and a handful of wildflowers stuck out of the top, a splash of violet and red in the otherwise silver and grey mountain landscape.

The heatsource stopped, just out of visual range.  Samazzar nodded to it, heart hammering in his chest, before he took three steps backward.

“Great and beautiful Fel’Annthor,” he began, eyes unfocused as he tried to recite the words from memory.  “When I first saw your form, leaping between clouds, I was smitten.  Your grace and beauty, sublime.  From the shine of your scales to the curve of your wing, it is impossible to describe you with any words ever written.  One day, I will join you among the clouds.  Not today or next month, but I only ask that you give me time.”

“What is this?” A feminine voice, powerful and accented voice washed over Sam, almost knocking him from his feet.  “You are not a knight or adventurer that foolishly seeks my head, and you certainly do not look like one of the old human or elvish practitioners that occasionally makes the long trek to bribe me for assistance.”

She stepped into view, the horned head of a massive red dragon occupying the upper quarter of the passage as she looked down on him through slitted yellow eyes.

“Wait,” she stopped herself, gaze fixed on the potion bottle with flowers in it.  “By the dead and forgotten gods, was that a love poem.”

“Yes,” Samazzar replied, trying and failing to control the rush of blood to the scales of his face.  “I saw you once while I was journeying across the planes, and in that moment I knew that there would be no other woman for me.  Accept me or reject me Fel’Annthor, but you are the only being for me.”

“You’re a saurian,” Fel’Annthor said, clearly struggling with how to handle the situation.  “I am a dragon.  I should simply eat you, but I have to admit, in ten thousand years of life, I have never seen or heard anything this genuinely confusing.”

“I am a saurian now,” Sam agreed, “but barely a month ago I was a kobold.  In a year who knows what I will look like?  I can assure you, if you simply wait long enough, I will become a dragon worthy of your love.”

“That would mean killing one of my kind and consuming their heart’s blood in order to trigger an evolution,” she replied.  “That is not a feat that many can accomplish.”

“If that is what it will take to win your love,” Samazzar responded with a sweeping bow, “it will be but a small task.  I would lasso the stars from the sky and present them to you for your hoard if it would influence your decision.”

“Is that what these are meant to be?”  The dragon asked, inclining her head toward the crystal and the flowers.  “Additions to my hoard?”

“After a fashion,” Sam said, standing up and scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.  “In my culture, courtship is initiated by presenting the other party with two gifts, one that is an object of value or wealth, and one that is an object of beauty or art.”

“Right now I do not have much to my name, Fel’Annthor,” he continued.  “I know that nothing I own is worth displaying in your hoard, but at the same time, I couldn’t simply turn up to your cave empty handed.  I picked the flowers by hand, and the crystal is a smoky quartz, by far the most valuable item I own.  It is capable of being infused with fire or smoke magic and used in alchemy or a baptism.  I understand if you refuse my gifts, but-”

“The quartz is acceptable,” she cut him off, a hint of something strange in her accented voice, perhaps embarrassment?  “I would hardly be a proper dragon if I turned down wealth freely offered, even if it is barely of the level where it could be displayed at the absolute periphery of my hoard.”

“I thank you for your generosity miss,”  Samazzar replied, clasping his hands together and bowing slightly.

“Now go!”  Fel’Annthor barked out.  Sam hid a swell of elation.  She was definitely embarrassed.  “I have accepted your tribute, but you have interrupted an important nap.  If you return, make sure you are much larger and have something more valuable than smoky quartz.”

He bowed once more, turning and jogging out of the cave, his heart thudding wildly in his chest.  The way back down to the kobold warrens didn’t seem nearly as daunting as he left Fel’Annthor’s cave.