"There’s a secret entrance."
Zebulun sat before the hot coals, warming his hands. "It leads right into the dragon’s private chambers beneath the mansion. We can take it right to the dragon, avoiding all guards and servants."
"I was wondering how we were going to sneak into a lord’s home," said Davion.
"We don’t have to," said Zebulun. "The entrance is in a copse of trees in the dragon’s private hunting grounds. No one is allowed to go there. We can sneak in under cover of night and take the tunnel straight to our target."
"Aren’t you afraid of running into guards on the way?" asked Davion. "Patrols?"
"It’s peacetime," said Zebulun. "Most of the guards will be watching the west for bandits. They won’t expect an attack from the east. But I’ll take precautions."
Zebulun stood up and stretched. "Stay up as late as you can. We’ll sleep through the day and go in towards midnight."
"I haven’t been able to sleep since you left," said Davion. "I doubt I can sleep now."
"Exhaustion will take care of that," said Zebulun.
The trio sat up through the night, saying little. They slept at dawn and rose at dusk.
Later in the evening, Zebulun went into a trance. After two hours, a light fog rolled in. After three hours, it was thick as porridge.
"Time to go," said Zebulun.
"How can we navigate in this fog?" asked Davion.
"I know the way," said Zebulun. He took out a length of rope and handed it to Davion and Quinn. "Hold on to this."
They broke camp and went into the fog. Cows lowed in the distance.
"Davion!" whispered Quinn.
"What?"
"I can’t see anything! I can’t see my hand in front of my face!"
"I think Zeb might have overdone it with the fog," said Davion.
Zebulun tugged on the rope. Their animals followed.
They reached the copse of trees an hour later. The fog was lighter. They could see a few feet away.
"How long will your fog last?" asked Davion.
"I can only maintain it while in a trance," said Zebulun, "so it fades in time. Maybe another hour or two."
"I hope we’re away by then," said Davion.
"I hope we’re not dead!" said Quinn, with a big smile.
Zebulun secured the equines and led them to a small hill. He tore off a fake section of the hill, a separate layer of moss and dirt. Behind it lay a cellar door. Zebulun opened it to reveal stone stairs leading down into darkness.
Zebulun turned to them. "Ready?"
He looked at Quinn. Quinn looked excited.
He looked at Davion. Davion looked ill.
"You okay, dude?" asked Quinn. "You look like you want to hurl."
Davion took a deep breath. "I guess it’s a bad time to mention this," he said, "but I’m a bit of a coward. I’m terrified of going in there. Look at me. I’m actually shaking."
"Come on, man," said Quinn. "What’s the worst that could happen?"
Davion looked at Quinn in disbelief and let out a nervous laugh. "Really," he said, "what could go wrong?" He laughed again.
Zebulun towered over Davion and put his strong hands on his shoulders. "You’re not a coward."
Davion looked up into his eyes. "I’m not?"
"Courage is not lack of fear," said Zebulun.
"It’s not?" asked Davion.
"It’s not?" asked Quinn.
"Courage is feeling fear and going forward anyway," said Zebulun. "The more terrified you feel, the more courage it takes."
Davion lowered his eyes. He took a deep breath, and then another, then looked up at Zebulun and said, "Okay. Let’s do this. Let’s kill a dragon."
Quinn pouted. Davion asked, "What’s wrong with you?"
"I always thought I was brave," said Quinn.
"No," said Zebulun with mirth in his eyes, "you’re just fearless."
Quinn smiled. "Okay, let’s go kill a dragon."
"Let me bless you before we go," said Zebulun. "I will give you each a portion of the power Ur granted to me. It will protect you."
He placed his right hand on Davion’s shoulder, his left on Quinn’s. He let energy flow from the spiritual plane, through him, and into his friends.
Davion let out a light gasp of surprise. "I can feel that!"
"It tingles!" said Quinn.
"I feel like," said Davion, trailing off. "I feel like I could convert this into physical energy."
"You can," said Zebulun. "The spiritual becomes physical through an act of will."
Davion nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed.
Zebulun gave both their shoulders a squeeze and let go. "Can you provide us with light?"
Davion seemed lost in thought, then started and said, "Oh, right. Sure." He lifted his palm. A soft white glowing sphere appeared above it. "Lead on."
Zebulun led them down the steps, his spear at the ready. The staircase led to a tunnel forty feet below the surface. It looked to have been hand-carved out of solid rock.
After a few hundred yards, they came to a door. It was locked.
"I might be able to pick the lock," whispered Davion.
It was Quinn’s turn to look at Davion in disbelief. "You can pick locks?"
Davion shrugged, barely visible in the soft white light. "Picking a lock is like a puzzle. I like puzzles."
"I wish I’d known," said Quinn. "I have some friends in Azulan you would love to meet." He smirked. "They’re lockpicking enthusiasts too."
"No time," said Zebulun, "and no need. We’re not trying to sneak up on the serpent."
Davion looked at Zebulun in surprise. "We’re not?"
"No," said Zebulun. "I aim to tell him why he’s about to die."
Zebulun rested his spear against the wall and said, "Stand back."
He stood up straight, his hands pressed before him, and summoned a small portion of the power of Ur. He stretched out his arm, pivoted, and drove his palm into the door. It flew off its hinges with a loud, metallic groan and hit the ground with a deep boom that echoed through the chambers beyond.
"Wow," said Quinn, no longer whispering. "Didn’t know you could do that."
Zebulun retrieved his spear. He stepped through the doorway and over the broken door. Down the hall, on the right, torchlight flickered from a tall, wide archway.
"This is it," said Zebulun. "Come."
He strode forward and stood before the arch. The others followed. There, beyond the arch, sat a dragon with scales the color of blood. It sat coiled atop a mountain of gold and silver coins, its wings wrapped around itself. It stared down at them with black eyes and flicked its tongue.
Zebulun spoke in his command voice. "Herod Wrathkinder," he said, "I am Zebulun Koh. You are a torturer and murderer of children. We have come to execute you in the name of Ur."
The dragon looked into Zebulun’s eyes for a moment, flicking its tongue in and out. Before their eyes, he transformed into a man: a tall, thin man with brown skin, black hair, half-closed eyes, and an eternal sneer. He looked down his nose at them and said, "Who is this Ur? Some new warlord in the west?"
"The creator of the world," said Zebulun.
The sneer on the dragon’s avatar deepened. "So this is some new cult I haven’t heard of? Do tell. Does Ur command his followers to save children from mean old dragons? Do you have hymns? Sing me one."
Quinn piped up, "I’m a singer!"
The avatar looked at him with narrowed eyes and wrinkled his nose. He looked back at Zebulun.
"No hymns," said Zebulun. "Just love."
The avatar burst out laughing. "How beautiful!"
"Hey," said Quinn, looking at the man before them, "before we fight, can you teach me some sorcery?"
The avatar looked at him in disbelief and demanded, "What?"
"I drank a magic potion in a haunted forest," said Quinn, "and met a ghost dragon who told me I should ask the next dragon I met to teach me sorcery."
The avatar gave him a blank look. "I’ll show you some sorcery, fool!"
Zebulun saw the serpent’s real head turn to look at Quinn. Quinn froze for a second, then looked around slowly. He looked at the ceiling, at the ground, and all around. "Ugh!" he said. "Horrible!" He wandered slowly down the hall, looking around in confusion.
Zebulun looked up into the dragon’s real eyes and said, "Get ready to die." He lowered his spear and advanced on the creature.
The dragon’s avatar vanished. It looked into Zebulun’s eyes and focused its mind on his. The dragon hit him with a blast of sorcery powerful enough to put a dragon to sleep. Zebulun shrugged it off.
The dragon’s lidless eyes stared at Zebulun. You must be strong-willed for livestock, he whispered into Zebulun’s mind.
"I overcome by the grace of Ur," said Zebulun.
He lunged at the dragon. It loosened its coils and raised its head thirty feet to look down on him. It swerved out of the way of his spear thrust.
A shimmer filled the air between Davion and the dragon. The mountain of coins rose up in a vortex, surrounding the serpent, then encasing him. The beast flexed its wings, sending a shower of gold and silver in all directions.
A ray of heat scorched the dragon’s underside. The dragon looked at Davion and whispered, Who taught you magery, little lamb? You like fire? Try this.
Flames engulfed Davion’s body. He felt his flesh sear. He could see nothing through the flames and haze of pain.
"Focus, Davion!" said Zebulun. "It’s a trick! Fight it!"
Davion focused his will. He summoned some of Zebulun’s blessing to aid him. In a snap, he saw through the illusion. The flames disappeared.
He looked down at himself. His skin was blistered like a bad sunburn, but his clothes were unburnt. He looked up at the dragon. "It’s all fake."
Zebulun slashed at the dragon’s wing with his spear, tearing a small chunk out of it. The serpent hissed, slapped the spear out of Zebulun’s hand with its other wing, and shredded it to splinters with its claws.
Zebulun drew his sword: two feet of steel with cross-guards and an oval grip.
You can’t be serious, said the dragon. The spear was unrealistic enough, but this?
Ball lightning hit the dragon in its wing, setting it ablaze. The dragon let out a loud hiss and knocked Zebulun back two yards. It beat its wing on the ground to dampen the flames, then fixed its eyes on Davion with a look of reptilian hatred.
Davion’s expression changed from a mix of stress and determination to one of pure horror. "No," he said. "No! It can’t be!" He backed away from all of them, looking around in terror. He hit the wall and slumped down it to a sitting position. He held his knees and rocked back and forth. Tears welled in his eyes. "It can’t be."
The dragon let out another hiss as Zebulun slashed its underside with his sword.
Quinn shouted, "Stop! How can you be so cruel?"
The dragon hit Zebulun with the full force of his mind. Zebulun felt his consciousness fading, his vision shrinking first to a tunnel, and then to a point of light. He channeled the spirit and fought off the spell. He looked up at the dragon.
Fine, said the serpent, we’ll do this the old fashioned way.
With blinding speed, the dragon folded its wings and shot past Zebulun, then back around, wrapping him in his coils twice. Zebulun pushed back against incredible pressure. Ur had made him stronger, but nowhere near as strong as a dragon. He felt his spiritual energy fading fast as he used it to stop the serpent from crushing him.
The dragon lowered its head and put its eye right up to Zebulun’s face. How are you so strong? it asked. You should be dead by now, and I should be eating.
Zebulun struggled against the snake. "The power," he said, between breaths, "of Ur."
"What kind of a monster are you?" asked Quinn, looking in a different direction from the fracas.
Zebulun struggled, but he could feel the power leaving him. The dragon was too strong. He felt his first ribs crack as he heard Quinn say, "Waaaaait. Wait just a minute. This can’t be real."