The Last Dragon

The sweet smell of fear emanated from the small child, who sat alone and abandoned on the bed of decaying autumn leaves; easy pickings for a fully grown dragon. Yet as Laethril landed heavily on the soft, wet ground; her long claws, like razors, slicing into the malleable earth, she hesitated…

She shook her powerful wings, showering the clearing in thick droplets of water, which had collected on her coarse, leathery scales as she descended through the clouds. She looked around cautiously, however the dense forest was silent and unwilling to part with its secrets. It truly seemed like they were alone. Dragon and human child.

She knew this was her opportunity and that she did not have long. Her left shoulder was bleeding thick, green blood in an unceasing flow that was trickling down her foreleg. Soon, she would be passing over into the spirit realm to fly with her children who, she knew, would be waiting for her. Part of her yearned to join them right now, however there was one task still remaining that was essential for the survival of her race and she would complete it with her dying breaths.

It was surely fate that had driven this tiny, susceptible youngling into her path. How else could she have found a child alone and unprotected, just as her strength was starting to fail her?

She slowly edged forwards towards the child, whose fear had abated and was now staring at Laethril with wide, blue eyes and an expression of deep curiosity. Perhaps the youngling had sensed that she would do it no harm. She looked around one last time, still feeling unsettled at this improbable yet fortuitous encounter… But there was no one else in sight and she had to act now.

Dropping her huge armoured head so that her softly bleeding snout was at the level of the child’s forehead. She gazed into its eyes and for a moment the air seemed to lay completely still as dragon and child locked gaze. With extreme care, Laethril lifted her giant front leg and very delicately lifted a single talon to the babe’s head. Slicing down slowly she drew a very shallow line in the centre of the forehead, from which a thin drop of crimson blood dripped down onto its nose. The child remained eerily silent. It’s soft, blue eyes locked onto Laethril’s bright, gold ones. The whole forest held its breath and even the wind stopped to watch, as the dragon ever so gradually edged her bleeding snout forward, until finally making contact with the child’s forehead.

Blood touched blood, spirit touched spirit, mind touched mind.

Laethril could feel the child’s young, scattered mind touch hers as she melded them together and imbued that which she knew could save her race from extinction. The babe’s eyes rolled into the back of its head, as it slowly keeled over backwards, coming to rest on the bed of orange maple leaves. Confident that she had achieved what had been necessary, she lifted her snout into the air, feeling at last the sense of finality and peace she had been yearning for.

Her whole body, down to the essence of her very existence, felt exhausted. She realised her body had been kept going by sheer will to complete her final act. But now that she had completed it, her physical form was ready to pass into decay and return to the earth. Stepping back, Laethril took one last look at the child whose destiny she had both shaped and cursed. It seemed blissfully unaware that anything had happened; lying peacefully on its back with its eyes closed. Breaking her gaze away from the child, she looked up at the scintillating blue sky, and launched herself with an almighty effort into the air.

As she soared above the dappled, orange forest for the last time, her eyes took in the astounding beauty of the world around her… The multicoloured sea of autumn leaves clinging with desperation to the withered branches of the deciduous trees. The pure yellow sun, glittering in the smooth, cloudless sky; illuminating the sparkling lake below her. She truly would miss this physical world, yet she was ready… Her children awaited.

Laethril dived down from the heavens towards the deep lake below and before her body was swallowed by the ancient waters, she was gone…

Chapter 1

Tomas woke up in a cold sweat. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his knuckles passing over the thin scar that ran down the middle of his forehead. He looked to his side, but saw that Jarro, his older companion, was still sound asleep, his snores cutting through the crisp morning air like a blunt knife. They were alone, apart from the scurrying bugs that crawled along the forest floor that they had made their bed on. They were lying beneath a thick, tall oak tree which was looming over them in the shallow light of dawn. A slither of pale yellow light forewarned of the coming sun, which would soon be upon them.

Tomas sat up, rubbed his eyes and brushed his long, sweaty brown hair away from his rough, tanned face. He had been dreaming the dragon dream every night for the last week now. Sometimes he was the dragon and, every time, it felt as if he too was dying. His body would plunge into the lake and cause him to wake up. Other times he was the abandoned child, sitting and watching as the dragon came to him. These dreams had been sporadic in the past, however ever since they had entered this forest he had been waking up every morning flushed and sweaty from the same dream.

Maybe it was simply the hard days of travelling and lack of good food that was causing his feverish dreams to escalate. They had been travelling for over two moons now and most of the food they had brought had run out. All that was left now was a dwindling number of some salted beef strips and a few hazel nuts. For the rest of their food they were having to scavenge what they could and many nights were spent trying to fall asleep with an unsatisfied, grumbling stomach. They did not have ample time to spend hunting and foraging as their journey was long and arduous; they had to keep moving or they would never reach their destination, and it was vital that they did…

Tomas had been tasked, by King Harmon himself, with finding the last of the dragon eggs and to finally once and for all rid this world of the scourge that were dragons. A dragon had not been seen for over a decade now and the great kingdom of Morael had spent the last ten years making sure they wouldn’t be seen again. The centuries long war between dragons and man had ended when the last dragon, Faerin, had been slain whilst attempting to murder King Harmon. Since then the king’s seers had managed to locate all except one of the hidden lairs which contained the last of the dragon eggs, tethering the dragon race to life. That was until two moons ago, the king had summoned Tomas and told him that the seers had finally located the last of the dragon eggs and that he had been chosen to end this war forever. “You will be honoured among mankind forever,” the king had told him.

It was all he could have dreamed of. No one knew more about dragons or had trained harder than he had to be part of the king’s expeditioners. Ever since he was a child and had dreamed about the dragon for the first time he had hungered to be part of an expedition to find the dragon eggs and here, finally, was his chance. He had humbly accepted the task and had been assigned a magician, Jarro, to accompany him and aid him on his journey. They had been told to leave immediately. Thus, his journey had begun to the mountains of Gerann.

The seers had proclaimed that where the forest of Narethael met the mountains, he would find the last of the dragon eggs. Tomas and Jarro had reached the forest four days ago now and had been trekking slowly through the dark foreboding trees whilst trying not to get lost in the labyrinth of criss-crossed paths, roots and branches that hindered them every step of the way. Every so often Tomas would climb a tree that stuck it’s head out over the main canopy and he would peer through the top most branches, out over the sprawling forest that cut through the landscape like a dark green, mottled scythe. In the distance, looming ever closer, he would always see the huge grey and white peaks of mountains, looking out, imperious, over the forest. Like a parent angrily scrutinizing a misbehaving child. The last time Tomas had checked their direction of travel, the mountains of Gerann had been but a few leagues away. They were almost there.

Tomas’s heart seemed to beat faster as he thought about how close they were. His thoughts already drifted into fantasy as he imagined the praise and adulation upon his victorious return. As his mind wandered, the thin scar on his head prickled slightly.

He cracked his cold, stiff body and leant against the old, wise oak and opened his pack. He fished inside for one of the last strips of salted meat to break his fast. But instead his fingers closed around a soft fabric pouch. His fingers froze. He knew what the pouch contained but he had only laid eyes on its contents once before: when it had been put inside and entrusted to him. Something was telling him to look inside once more, perhaps it was the proximity of their destination. He pulled out the pouch and opened the draw string, gazing inside at the small, inconspicuous gemstone nestled in its folds, that he knew was one of the greatest weapons ever created. He emptied the pouch into his palm and felt the smooth, freezing fire ammonite land onto his skin with much more weight than it should have had.

It looked like an insignificant, if beautiful gemstone, with mingled orange and brown marbled into the ancient entombed life. However Tomas knew that it had been imbibed with extraordinary power after centuries of work by the kingdom’s most powerful magicians. Dragon eggs were almost indestructible and generations had gone by attempting to unlock the key to destroying the toughened stone-like eggs. Until finally, a few years into King Harmon’s reign, this fire ammonite he held in his hand, the only one ever to be found, was turned into the most powerful weapon in the realm. Something that at last could result in man eradicating the dragons for good.

The magicians had not explained to Tomas how it worked, but he had been told that simply the act of placing it against the surface of the eggs would cause them to be destroyed. He turned it over in his hand, the ice-cold surface tearing at his rough calloused skin, as he wondered how something so small would be able to demolish the strongest known object in the realm.

“You’d better be careful with that,” came a rough voice from beside him. “Lose that an’ this whole godforsaken journey will be for nothin’ and you won’ have to worry about the king’s reckoning… I’ll gut you meself.”

Jarro had awoken and was looking at Tomas with his beady black eyes. Jarro was a short, stout man with a dense black, triangular beard and long, black hair that hung in a thick clump down to his shoulders. He was a powerfully built man, a large waist disguising what was a solid mass of muscle. His muscular limbs were covered in large ink depictions of various symbols carved straight into his flesh. These symbols were the mark of a magician and Jarro was one of the most respected magicians sworn to King Harmon. Tomas knew he was one of the King’s closest confidants and was among his most trusted advisors.

Jarro was far from the type of travelling companion that Tomas would have personally chosen. He did not talk much and was blunt with his criticism and ideas. He knew about as much information about Jarro as he had when they had set off. Whilst Tomas naturally loved to laugh and talk and question the world, he found an extremely unyielding wall of silence in his current travelling acquaintance. However, Tomas could not argue against the fact that Jarro was extremely adept at his craft and he also did not complain about long days or hard work. The fire that Jarro had created from his fists and shot at the pack of wolves, that had one night surrounded them, had warmed Tomas enormously to his companion and so he obliged and stowed the ammonite delicately back in his pack.

After two moons of travelling they were adept at packing and moving on quickly in the morning and before long, after a small bite of some meat and a couple of hazelnuts, they started in the direction that Tomas knew would soon reveal the mountains they sought. He was feeling a nervous excitement as they trekked alongside a small bubbling stream that caressed the smooth, round stones that confined its waters. This was it, he thought to himself, this was the day they would make it to the mountains and find the eggs. Yet he felt strangely empty and unfulfilled. He had been waiting his entire life to be sent on an expedition like this, but it could all be over soon. Two moons of journeying, a lifetime of study and training culminating in just one day. It felt hollow. He looked over at Jarro, who hiked a few paces behind him and wondered how he was feeling, but Jarro seldom displayed his thoughts or emotions and was looking intently at the back of Tomas’s heels.

  

Tomas had spent a disproportionate amount of time growing up in the forests that had bordered the palace. He had always loved finding streams and caves and hollows in thick tree trunks that he could disappear into. He would often try to hide out as long as he could in the sheltered depths of the forest until a guard would drag him back to the yard. Tomas was an orphan and he had no idea who his parents were. However he had been lucky. Luckier than most…

He had been taken in by the yard master, Krul, who resided in the palace training ground and maintained and cleaned the yard. Krul had been a disciplined and stoic father figure, however he had always treated Tomas as his own and given as much love as discipline. He was given a place to sleep in the stables and warm food every night in exchange for helping maintain the place. That was until one day he had been caught secretly training with an old wooden sword against a sparring post. He had been discovered and laughed at by some of the young squires who were, in time, to become knights of the realm. However they had not been expecting the strength and ferocity with which Tomas, a young 10 year old boy, had retaliated.

He had quickly struck the two leaders in the head, leaving them mewling and bleeding on the ground. He had fought a third, before overcoming him and leaving him too crying in pain on the earth. The fourth had fled and had come back with the master of arms. The master, a short, hairy and nasty man, had wacked him across the head and hauled him to Krul, who had proceeded to laugh at the master of arms and suggested that he train his students better, but agreed to discipline Tomas thoroughly. However once alone with Krul, he was cuffed gently on the back of his head, grunted at to make sure he beat them all next time and sent to bed without food. Then, the next morning to his even greater surprise, Krul greeted him when he woke up, handing him a proper, if slightly old and beaten, training sword.

“This is from the Lord of Arms,” he said, a slight twinkle in his eye. “Apparently, he saw you yesterday morn, and thought you’d be more useful training to fight as an expeditioner, than helping me with the upkeep. I told him no good can come of all this fighting and besides how am I meant to cope without you! But he told me I could have one of the servants from the palace to help out instead. So I guess you can go and get beaten up by some rich lads and finally leave me alone!” He said roughly, but there was a glint in his eyes and a slight smile in the corner of his mouth.

Tomas couldn’t believe what he was hearing, the Lord of Arms wanted him to train for the most elite division of the kings army. It was everything he had ever wanted and he remembered being filled to the brim with excitement.

He thought about that day and smiled to himself. That had been the start of his journey that had culminated in him being here now, in this forest, on the brink of finding the last dragon eggs…

  

The two of them carried on following the stream uphill, leading them to what Tomas hoped was the large lake he had seen that bordered the mountains. It took them most of the morning but eventually the sound of fast running water cascading onto rock beckoned from up ahead. In front of them was a small, steep verge of rock with water tumbling down it in a sparkling waterfall.

Tomas scrambled up the verge and hoisted himself up onto the top. The sight that greeted him was magnificent. Between two huge chestnut trees, standing like great strong sentinels, shone a scintillating blue lake, beyond which a wall of grey granite rose up taller than Tomas could see, far above the trees. They had made it.

Behind him Jarro pulled himself up over the verge and stood beside Tomas, gazing at the shimmering lake. “Well done lad,” he said gruffly, putting a thick hand on Tomas’s shoulder. “Now we jus’ have to find the damn lair.”

This problem had also dawned on Tomas. The lake swept all the way to the edge of the sheer granite face, however, on either side, the forest started again and the trees bordered the mountains for as far as he could see. The seers had told him that he would find the eggs where the forest met the mountains, but this could mean any part of the hundreds of leagues of forest that traversed the edge of the grey wall. His excitement was waning rapidly as hopelessness engulfed him. How could they possibly hope to cover such a large area.

He looked at Jarro questioningly.

“Don’ look at me boy,” he said, seeing the look on Tomas’s face. “You’re meant to be the expeditioner.”

Tomas surveyed the landscape before them. He would not give up, when they were so close to their goal. Could the seers have been mistaken? There must be some sort of sign that would give away a dragon lair. Dragons were huge and there would have to be an extremely large entrance for them to move in and out of… Where did the mountains meet the forest? He leant against one of the chestnut trees, deep in thought.

Suddenly he felt a presence reach out, like a ghostly hand, from inside his own mind. A deep voice spoke to him, from within himself. “The water is older than the forest.” An image of a giant cavern, with iridescent walls of pitted stone and a dark, black pool of water flashed in his mind. Then it was gone.

Tomas shook his head, feeling dazed. What had just happened? No time seemed to have passed. Had Jarro noticed anything? He blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his eyes, but nothing changed. Jarro was now leant against the other chestnut tree, flipping his serrated knife in his hand; oblivious to anything that had just occurred.

What had it meant? The water is older than the forest… But all of a sudden Tomas understood. If the lake had been here before the forest. Then the lake was where the mountains had first met the trees. The forest would have formed around the water source and spread from this point, that must be what the seers had meant. He could feel the excitement rising in his chest again. Now the image he had seen made sense, there must be an entrance to a cave under the mountains. The entrance must be in the lake!

“I’ve got it Jarro.” He shouted enthusiastically. “The lair is through the lake under the mountain. We can’t see it because its covered by the lake, but the dragons would have been able to dive through the water. We’re going to have to swim.”

Jarro eyed him carefully and then looked out over the lake at the base of the mountain. “OK,” he grunted, shrugging his shoulders. “You lead the way.”

The base of the mountain was a good distance away. It would take them some time to reach it, but Tomas didn’t mind, his heart was once again threatening to beat out of his chest. Besides, he was a strong swimmer, his tall lean build and long limbs were ideal for cutting through water.

Tomas quickly busied himself with collecting bits of wood from the ground and once he had gathered sufficient branches, he bound them together with string from his pack; producing a tiny raft. He strapped his pack to the small makeshift raft, which would allow it to float above the water without getting wet. He then tied this on a long length of rope to his waist so he could swim freely. Jarro, on Tomas’s instruction, had done the same and together the strode into the soft, still, susceptible water, allowing their packs to float along behind them.

Luckily it turned out that Jarro was also a strong swimmer, although he was no match for Tomas’s longer body and he found himself slowing down every so often to allow Jarro to catch up. He lay on his back floating gently in the still, malleable water that embraced his tired and battered body; soothing his worn muscles. The water was completely flat and portrayed a perfect reflection of the surrounding forest. The pale orange sun warmed his weather beaten face and comforted his mind and spirit as he lay at the precipice of his quest, waiting for Jarro to catch up. He didn’t know what he was going to find in the cavern, but he knew that it would be better to have Jarro with him.

The sun moved past the midway point, as Tomas and Jarro finally made it to the mountain edge.

“Look for a large hole or a bottom edge to the cliff face.” Tomas called out to Jarro. Placing his hands under the water on the hard stone surface. He looked along the side of the mountain and then immediately saw what he knew must be the hidden lair. A couple of strokes to his right, there was a patch of water that was a much darker blue than the surrounding lake. This had to be the lair.

Kicking his way over to the patch of water Tomas could instantly see the huge hole in the cliff face. The edge of the mountain stopped just under the water and below this was empty space, filled with the cold water of the lake. How far would the tunnel go before it opened up into the hidden cavern? He was about to find out…

“It’s over here,” he shouted to Jarro, who had been swimming in the other direction. He stuffed his pack into his trousers, hoping it would stay dry enough. “Follow me.”

“Wait,” came the reply, “I should go first!”

But Tomas had already dived, he kicked hard under the water and swam head first into the giant hole in the side of the mountain. He tried to preserve as much oxygen as he could; kicking slowly put powerfully as he glided through the underwater tunnel deep into the mountain.

He could barely see, but the tunnel seemed to be relatively straight. He kept kicking as he felt blindly above himself, running his hands along the rough cavern wall, feeling for the opening that would emerge into the cavern. However all that greeted his macerated skin was unfeeling and unforgiving rock. Panic was beginning to build up inside him now. He let out a bubble of air in anger, wasting some of his precious oxygen. He started kicking harder and faster now, his hands frantically scrabbling at the stone above him, waiting, hoping desperately to feel it give way into fresh air. His lungs were becoming strained and were screaming in protest. If he didn’t emerge soon he would drown in this forgotten lake at the fringes of the world and no one would ever find his body. But Tomas could feel his muscles weakening, his mind was going foggy as he scrambled weakly at the unending rock above him. This was the end. He felt the last bubble of air leave his mouth.

Then, out of nowhere, the tips of his fingers felt a gust of air as the stone above him finally came to an end. With all his might Tomas kicked upwards with the last of his strength. Black dots covered his vision.

Tomas gasped, as his head broke the surface. He coughed and spluttered as he gulped in oxygen, splashing about, his muscles barely able to keep him afloat. Coughing and rasping he struck out for the edge of the pool, dragging himself out of the water and collapsing on his back on the rough hard floor as his arms gave out.

Once he had finally got his breath back Tomas sat up slowly, his chest still aching, and looked around. This was the cavern he had seen by the lake. The walls were glittering with incandescent light, that was emanating from multiple different kinds of gems that littered the vast stone walls. The cavern stretched further into the mountain than Tomas could see and he wondered how far and deep it went. How many secrets and treasures could be lurking down there he wondered. But that did not matter, he was here to do a job. For his king and kingdom.

He looked around and there they were, in plain sight, nestled upon a large stone plinth. Five large, perfectly smooth, opaque dragon eggs. The last dragon eggs in existence. The only remnants of a once powerful race of beings and he, Tomas, had the power to end it all.

He walked over to the eggs cautiously, he had never seen a dragon egg before. They seemed to be emitting a powerful energy, that was disconcerting and making him act with caution. Something about the pearly, silky eggs made him want to reach out and touch them… Ever so slowly, as if guided by some all-powerful being, he reached out his right hand.

As soon as his skin touched the warm surface, his mind was blasted out of the material realm…

  

He found himself standing in a clearing in a forest. The same forest where he had met the dragon in his dreams, which is why he found himself unsurprised to find that he was face to face with that same dragon. It stared at him with large, golden eyes, that were penetrating deep into his soul, and then it spoke.

“Greetings youngling, my name is Laethril. You have come far and grown much since the last time we met. I know you have been dreaming about our encounter and I know the anger and frustration you have experienced due to questions left unanswered. I have felt it. There are many things you do not understand yet, however it is vital that you save these eggs from destruction by the king. He is not who you think he is and you are not who you think you are either.”

Tomas looked at Laethril, bewildered. Was this real? He was finally getting clarity about a dream that had been haunting him his entire life, but a second ago he had been in the cavern under the mountain. Also, what had the dragon said about the king and how could he trust it?

“Why have you only come to me now and why should I trust anything you say? Dragons have killed thousands of men, including my father! The world would be better off without dragons.” Tomas finished, glaring up at the formidable yet benign dragon.

“I have been with you since we first met Tomas, however I hid myself from you so that others would not realise how deeply we are connected, for they would have killed you for it. Instead, I made it so that I would be revealed fully only upon your connection with my eggs. You have not known it, but I have guided you here since you were a child. We are more connected than any dragon and man have ever been. That scar you bear on your head is our mark. A mark of shared blood. We are connected Tomas, you have dragon blood and it is your destiny to save the dragons and the humans. It is true that dragons and mankind were at war, however what nearly all of mankind didn’t realise was that due to the hatred and fear, mankind was infiltrated by a race of dark beings. Your armies and cities have, for a long time now, not been under the control of mankind. These are the enemies the dragons have been fighting. For these are dark beings, not capable of love, compassion or kindness. Look deep inside yourself, you know the king is not what he claims. He wants to rid the world of dragons so there will be no one to oppose him. And Tomas… Remember, you have dragon blood, you know this to be true… They will also kill you and it was they who they killed your father, not us. They have sent you here to destroy the last dragon eggs and then they will murder you and once and for all eradicate dragons from this world. You cannot let this happen. You must take three of the eggs to the Maelith Vale. I will guide you. There is a place there where you can awaken the dragons and we will be reborn into this world. Go forth and do this Tomas. But be careful… Remember they want to kill you…”

  

There was a blast of sharp white light. Tomas blinked and he was back in the cavern, his hand resting on the warm, smooth egg. What had he just witnessed? His head was frantically trying to make sense of what had just happened. How could it be real? Yet what Laethril had told him resonated with something deep inside him. Something that was telling him unequivocally that everything he had heard had been true. But what would that mean he should do next? He jumped as a slow drawling voice called out from behind him.

“You should ‘ave waited for me.” Jarro said, his fists engulfed in thick, dancing, orange flames, raised at Tomas’s chest. “You shouldn’t have touched ‘em. How’s your dragon friend doing?”

He laughed raucously, as he saw the shocked, cornered look on Tomas’s face.

“You really thought we didn’t know abou’ your special bond. The king’s seers told us all abou’ your dragon friend, see. But we figured, you migh’ as well lead us to the eggs and then we can kill you all at the same time.” His grin exposed his uneven yellow teeth and made him look quite mad in the flickering light of the flames.

Tomas opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Everything Jarro had said was confirmation of what Laethril had told him. But what good would that do him now. He could feel his knife strapped to his side and whilst he was an expert at throwing knives, there was no chance he could get a shot in before Jarro released a fireball that would engulf and burn him up with seconds. If only Laethril had spoken to him sooner.

Jarro regarded him with that same manic grin. “Well? Nothin’ to say boy?” He said, “Well, I guess it don’t matter… No one around to hear your last words anyway.”

Without warning, Jarro opened his fist and a giant fire ball shot straight at Tomas’s chest. There was nothing he could do. He gasped as it exploded, knocking him backwards into the plinth on which the eggs sat. His chest felt winded as he gulped in air trying to regain some composure. His back was pulsating in agony where he had hit the plinth. However the heat and burning pain that he had expected did not come. His whole body was engulfed in flame, but his body was completely unscathed by the ferocious flames that licked and danced around his body.

For a moment Tomas and Jarro stared at each other, both dumbfounded. Tomas looked at his bare arm. The fire seemed to be emanating from his body, rather than burning and destroying his flesh, it had become one with his body. Slowly he started to laugh, the pain in his back was beginning to eb away. Tomas stood up, drawing the knife from his waist as he saw the look of utter disbelief on Jarro’s face.

“I thought you knew I had dragon blood? I guess your seers didn’t realise what that meant… You can’t burn a dragon.” He finished, as he flicked his wrist, the knife spinning in the air towards Jarro, who was too shocked to realise what was happening.

The knife embedded itself in his chest, hilt deep. He looked down for a second in confusion and then crumpled to the floor and didn’t move again. The fire around Jarro’s hands and Tomas’s body suddenly extinguished.

Tomas looked at where Jarro lay on the ground, tiny in death, not quite believing what had happened. Jarro’s body seemed to have changed: his hair had turned grey and his skin was white and pale; he was no longer recognisable as the man he once knew. He turned away slowly and his focus came back to the eggs, which had, completely unmoving, surveyed the fight. They sat on the plinth and Tomas knew they were ready.

Ready to be awakened.

This was his new task, guided by Laethril, he would take three of the eggs and transport them to Maelith Vale so that they could finally be born again. He understood now. His quest had never been to eradicate the dragons, instead it had been to save them.

He opened his sopping wet pack and pulled out the fabric pouch. He emptied the startlingly cold fire ammonite onto his hand and threw it into the deep pool, where it would sink to the bottom of the lake and return to the earth from which it came.

Gently taking the three closest eggs and placing them in his pack, he looked at the calm water and readied himself for the plunge…