Zebulun, Davion, and Quinn rode west under a clear blue sky.
"So," said Davion, "Where are we going?"
Zebulun looked at him. "West."
"Any particular place?" asked Davion.
"None that I know of," said Zebulun. "Ur said to flee into the western wilds after killing that serpent. I guess he wants us here for some reason."
"I suppose," said Davion, his brow furrowed.
"Come on, dude!" said Quinn. "It’s an adventure!"
"Leading to what, I wonder?" asked Davion.
"A new kingdom," said Zebulun. "A new era."
"I wish I had your confidence," said Davion.
Zebulun almost smiled.
"Is it colder here, out west?" asked Quinn.
"We’ve been going uphill," said Zebulun. "Into the high plains."
"Oh," said Quinn. "Higher places are colder?"
"They are," said Zebulun.
"You didn’t know that?" asked Davion.
"I’ve never been high before!" said Quinn. "I know it gets way warmer when you go from north to south; I figured maybe it gets colder if you go from east to west."
"Not the same," said Zebulun. Quinn shrugged.
It was near sunset when they saw two riders atop the crest of a hill. The riders saw them. One spoke to the other, who rode off down the opposite side.
Zebulun raised a hand in greeting. Seeing this, Quinn waved. The rider tipped his broad-brimmed hat. Zebulun led the three of them up the hill at a snail’s pace.
A dozen more riders crested the hill before they reached the top. Zebulun continued, undaunted. Davion and Quinn followed.
"Who are these guys?" whispered Quinn.
"The west is full of warring clans," said Davion. "They sometimes raid the western edge of the kingdom for livestock."
"They sound dangerous," said Quinn, with a gleam in his eye.
"Definitely," said Davion. Quinn gave him a devious smile.
Zebulun stopped a few yards from the assembled riders and nodded to them. "I’m Zebulun Koh. These are my companions, Davion and Quinn."
Davion raised his hand in an awkward greeting.
Quinn waved and said, "Hi!"
The lead rider tipped his hat and said, "I’m Jed. What are you doing in these parts? You don’t look local."
"We hail from the kingdom to the east," said Zebulun. "I’m a wandering healer. Do you have any sick or injured?"
Jed narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "You’re a healer?"
"I am."
"And your friends here?" asked Jed. "Are they healers?"
Zebulun shook his head. "This one is a philosopher. This one is a performer."
The riders laughed.
"What on Earth is a philosopher doing out here?" asked Jed.
"Protecting me," said Zebulun, with laughter in his eyes.
The riders chuckled.
"Well," said Jed, "maybe y’all ought to come see the boss."
The riders led the trio down into their camp, a few score tents made from animal skins. Women tended cookfires while children ran about at play. In the center sat an unusually large tent. Jed went in, then came back out with a dragon. It had blue scales, with flecks of turquoise, and adorned itself with jewelry.
"This here’s the boss," said Jed.
The serpent flicked his tongue and transformed into his avatar. It looked like one of the riders, except he still had his blue scales and serpent’s eyes.
"Greetings," said the dragon. "I am Zan. Jed tells me you’re a healer."
"I am," said Zebulun.
"What do you seek?" asked the dragon. "Payment for your services? Steady employment?"
"Nothing," said Zebulun. "I wander the land and heal the sick and injured."
"So," said Zan, "just passing through?"
"Yes."
The scaly cowboy regarded Zebulun for a moment. "You know what we are out here?"
"Warring tribes who steal from each other and the kingdom," said Zebulun.
"You do know!" said Zan. "So why would you come here?"
"By the will of Ur, creator of this world," said Zebulun. "I am his prophet."
Some of the cowboys chuckled.
"Your god told you to come see us?" asked Zan.
Zebulun shook his head. "Ur told me to flee into the western wilds after executing a dragon lord."
"Ah," said Zan. "And did you?"
"We did."
"How, exactly, did you manage that?" asked Zan.
"I’m a prophet," said Zebulun. "I was a soldier before. Davion here is a mage. Quinn’s a good shot with a sling."
Zan looked amused. "I can’t imagine a sling would be much good against one of us."
"You’d be surprised," said Zebulun.
Zan’s avatar turned to Davion. "You’re a mage?"
"I am, yes," said Davion.
"Show me something," said Zan.
Davion looked at Zebulun. Zebulun nodded.
Davion looked around. He raised his hand, and a rock rose off the ground and into the air above them. With a flick of his wrist, it flew off out of the camp. The men surrounding them murmured among themselves.
"Impressive!" said Zan. "Never met a man who could do that. Most dragons can’t even do that."
"I, uh," said Davion, "just learned it recently."
Zan looked over them for a moment. "You three intrigue me. I’ll welcome you for the moment." He turned to one of his cowboys. "Cal," he said. "Take Zeb here around to anyone who’s hurt."
Cal nodded and motioned for them to follow.
"Don’t worry," said Zan. "We’ll watch your horses."
Zebulun looked at Zan’s avatar, then up into the serpent’s real eyes with mirth. He then turned and went with Cal.
Zan turned to Quinn and said, "Jed tells me you’re a performer."
Quinn’s face lit up. "Want to hear a song?"
Zan’s avatar smiled.
Zebulun followed Cal around the camp. He healed a man whose leg had been gored by a bull. He healed the broken leg of a man thrown from a horse. He healed a woman whose cough had lasted three years.
It was well past sunset when they returned to the center. Quinn stood before a bonfire. Zan sat coiled nearby. Cowboys sat cross-legged all around. He heard laughter as they approached, and then song. Zebulun walked up to the ring around the fire and watched.
Cal went over and whispered to Zan. He looked at Zebulun, who heard Zan’s voice in his mind. You really can heal.
Zebulun looked at the serpent from across the fire and nodded.
Quinn sang an old folk song about a traveler far from home. He sang in a voice simple and sweet, without pretension, that spanned four octaves. The cowboys gave him applause. He entertained for another hour or so before bowing out. The audience stood, stretched, and faded out into the surrounding camp.
"I figured you would go on all night," said Davion. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself."
"I was!" said Quinn. "That was a great audience! I could have gone all night, but that’s just not how it’s done. Number one rule of entertainment: never bore the audience. Always leave them wanting more."
Davion looked thoughtful.
Zan whispered to Zebulun, I’d like to see you in my tent.
Zebulun nodded and followed him inside.
Zan’s avatar appeared. "Where on Earth did you get so much gold and silver? Did you really kill a dragon?"
"We did," said Zebulun, "and for the promise of safe passage through your domain, I’ll tell you where to find a horde of gold, and a massive herd of cattle, unguarded by any dragon."
Zan looked at him and smiled. "I don’t know what new cult you hail from, but Cal tells me you really can heal. I’ve never heard of such power."
"It’s not common," said Zebulun. "And it’s not mine."
"I could just take your gold," said Zan, "and be done with it, but… you interest me. I think I’ll let you pass just so I can see where you end up."
"Thank you."
"Sadly," said Zan, "the cattle won’t do us much good. We can’t even feed what we have. We’ve had no rain all summer. We don’t get some soon, we’ll have to cull most of the herd."
"You need rain?" asked Zebulun. "I can help."
Zan looked at him with skepticism. "You can make it rain?"
"I can. Give me three days."
Zan’s avatar raised it’s hand to its chin and stroked it softly. Behind it, Zebulun could see the real dragon stroking its chin with its wing.
"Alright," said Zan. "This, I would love to see."
Zebulun showed him. For three nights, he went into a trance and summoned a heavy rain that soaked the ground. The rain faded each day at dawn and resumed each night. By the end, the pasture land around them had turned from brown to yellow-green.
On the third day, exhausted, Zebulun slept late into the morning.