The Scale of Night

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Believe me when I say, it used to be your typical, run-of-the-mill valley,” mused the Dwarf gruffly into his rapidly emptying mug. “Bees, trees, and rolling hills. A perfectly boring stretch of green that usually ended in a godsforsaken rainbow." He scoffed. "And you know what we did?" He directed his rant at the pallid young man sitting across from him. "We called them here. Lured them even. Turned a beautifully boring place into a nesting ground for ancient monsters. Can you believe that, boy?” Through the tavern window smoke and steam were visible rising from the Valley of the Nests on the distant horizon. “Can you even imagine the stones on my kin?"

Small streams of golden ale spiraling through the Dwarf’s braided beard dripped onto the table punctuating Nobelim’s sentences. He smiled broadly, smacking his lips as he gestured grandly with the heavy wooden mug at.

The slender young man in dusty gray armor sat a little too upright, hands shaking, his lips pursed, like a person waiting to be hung.

“But they weren’t in the business of being smart, were they, Kellem m’boy, were they? No! Some say they were in the business of dragon scales--” He scoffed, a dollop of foam blowing off his mustache landing on Kellem's sweaty forehead. “--No sir!” He yelled, “they were in the business of living!"

Kellem wiped his forehead stiffly, then struggled to find a suitable resting place for his hands, eventually settling for a tight grip on his beer mug.

“And I mean really living! Isn’t that right Mordy?!” He said, now directing his rant to the flailing, red cloaked man in the center of the room.

The old tavern began creaking and yawing in time with the rhythmic motions of the red-clad Wizard’s lengthy arms. He held them high, swaying at first like cattails in a summer breeze.

Nobelim met Kellem’s gaze. "Won’t be long now. Hold tight onto your ale, it’s almost time for the first gust.”

Kellem, who had already been white-knuckling his full beer, struggled to breath as he peered around the tavern. The barmaid caught his eye and smirked as she began fastening down the long leather straps that held rows of liquor bottles in their places.

The wide-eyed Wizard in the center of the room began to spin, wheeling his arms like a windmill in a hurricane. The picturesque image of the bright blue sky and rolling hills of the Verdant Reach began to flicker and shift through the windows as the walls began to warp and bend with his motions. He cackled loudly as all of the Runners around the tavern cheered him on, banging their mugs and stomping their boots against the old wooden floor.

Kellem pulled his gaze off of the spectacle, appraising the other Runners as they applauded.

They were all older than himself, weathered and seasoned. Their armors were of all manner of color and material. Many of them were made of the typical Chromatic Dragon scales; Green and Red, but there were a few rare ones, either hard-won, stolen, or otherwise passed down.

One man stood taller than the rest, wearing his ultralight armor of The Aluminum Dragon. Very desirable, a gorgeous matte silver but not ideal for a direct hit. A dark elf in the corner wore armor of The Moon Dragon that gave off a ghostly blue light. Decent, but by far the least capable of the Celestial Dragon armors. A fast looking man with thick red eyebrows, Droet the Flash they called him, wore Platinum Dragon scale armor; strong, flexible, light. “That's what you need for this sort of work,” thought Kellem.

Kellum looked down at his own armor. Stone Dragon scale. It had belonged to his father, heavy and poorly crafted. The joints knocked together when running at full speed, but it was tough in a pinch. And, godsforbid, it was said to be good against dragon fire. "Not good enough, apparently," he thought to himself, caressing the charred surface of the armor on his left side.

Kellem's eyes drifted towards the belts of the other Runners. “Where-“ Kellem stammered, “why don't they carry weapons?”

Nobelim leaned back in his chair and smirked with feigned realization, “Ah, so you’ve never seen a Dragon before, I take it. Should’ve guessed by the shade of lily your face has on. But to answer your question; you wouldn’t bring a toothpick to a bear-fight. That steel will only serve to slow you down.”

Kellem shakily unbelted the long sword from his side, ceremoniously laying it across the table. It was dented, marred, and dirty. He found his hand resting on the hilt. "Of course" he said, breathing shakily, "Will it be safe here?"

Nobelim’s smile faded from wry to warm as he set down his mug. “You can trust these lads. Out on the gust at least, it's all for one," He said, calm as a mountain, “but when we get back it might be a good idea to strap it back on."

The flailing Wizard began singing a chant that filled the tavern like a chorus of crows. The adventurers around the room began to stand and stretch, slamming their empty mugs back onto their tables. An Elven man and a bearded Dwarven woman grabbed the handles of the huge double doors that lined the far wall of the tavern, ready and waiting.

The Red Wizard spun and jumped, his crimson cloak flowing like a drop of blood falling into water. He stopped suddenly, bent over, and slapped both outstretched arms to the floor beneath him.

When his hands struck the ground the world around Kellem bucked and snapped, and upon opening his eyes, the view outside the windows had changed completely.

Blue skies were replaced by dense low hanging fog. The long swaying grass, bathing in sunlight, was replaced by a bald hill slick with mud. The room was silent as men leaned around the windows struggling to crane their necks in such a way as to see the sky.

Like all of the taverns in the Scales Take, The Cardinal had a small parapet built into the roof. Footfalls banged from the north end to the south end above Kellem's head, knocking dust from the ceiling above.

"It's clear!" The Seer shouted down hurriedly in a ragged voice.

Kellum glanced at the Red Wizard, Mordy, who was now sitting cross-legged on the floor breathing heavily, his eyes pearly white, pupilless, and distant. "Agreed," said Mordy between deep breaths, dripping sweat, hands still shaking somewhat from the exertion.

The man in Platinum flicked his fiery eyebrows at the Runners holding the door. They nodded at each other and began pulling the heavy doors apart. Thick fog rolled in from outside pooling and flowing around the group’s running boots as they exited, their eyes darting about, their attention never entirely leaving the sky.

Nobelim clapped his hand on the table as he stood, startling Kellem back into the moment.

“Easy boy, don’t you worry. The Wizard said this first beastie is only eight dwarves tall.” He paused looking at Kellem, then after a moment of consideration he said “or five men if that’s easier to understand.” The dwarf chuckled to himself as he led the way towards the gaping maw of the tavern’s huge doors held wide.

“Anyway, this first one’s just a Pearl Dragon. Not as vicious or fast as its Chromatic or Celestial cousins. They're usually quite docile."

Kellem and Nobelim were the last people to step out into the fog which smelled of ash and sea salt. Kellem looked back to see the wizard splayed out, gasping on the floor, but still muttering something.

“It’s supposed to do that. Trust me," said Nobelim.

"Now then, we don't want to leave empty handed," he said, with his wry smile returning to his face. The Dwarf and all of the other Runners took off into the mist and Kellum struggled to keep up. His stone armor pinched behind his knees and would occasionally slide up, banging into his jaw.

Trees began to appear out of the fog, bent and cracked.

"This is the edge of the nest," Nobelim shouted back, apparently unaffected by the run, even in his armor of dark Iron Dragon scale.

At the center of the Pearl dragon's den the men ran about adeptly, throwing aside fallen wood and diving into crevasses. A few were already holding white scales in their arms. Kellum began to run about, searching frantically. He climbed up a thick dark tree and leaned over the backside, but a Dwarf in Green Dragon armor was already exiting with a large pearly scale tucked under one arm.

"This area’s cleared mate," said the young Dwarf.

"This one too," added another Dwarf to Kellem's side that he hadn't noticed wading through the fog.

Kellem turned and climbed back down to the center, his heart banging in his chest. He froze. Some of the men were already hurrying back to the tavern. His father's armor felt heavier now than it had before, as he stood still, struggling to pick a direction.

Then he spotted a gleam in the fog. A small pearlescent sheen stuck into the side of a tree. “There!” He thought, jumping into a full sprint. He caught his stride and pushed forward through the mist. The tree was only a few seconds away, when Kellem saw a flash of platinum at his side. With his long red eyebrows flowing as he ran, Droet smirked back, surpassing Kellem.

It was only a chip, not an entire scale, so Droet was easily able to jump up and pluck it from the tree, even with his right arm brimming with pearl.

"I touched it first," Droet smiled, "you know the rules." Kellum dropped to his knees and breathed. When he looked up, Droet was gone and so was everyone else.

This Seer's whistle sounded two blasts; no sighting, time to go. Still looking desperately through welling eyes for an overlooked sparkle in the mud, Kellem headed back.

He entered the tavern, the large red doors snapping shut behind him. Mordy looked to have caught his breath and was once again raising his arms and beginning the spell that would send The Cardinal Tavern hurtling towards its next location.

"Nothing?" Said Nobelim, frowning over his freshly filled ale and stack of palm sized pearl scales. "Not even a piece?"

Kellum slumped into his chair, and looked at Nobelim. There was a full mug set for him on the table. "A Victory Mug". Kellem remembered the dwarf talking about his first victory mug many times during his childhood. Nobelim was almost guaranteed to drunkenly tell the tale while Kellem's parents would roll their eyes and laugh. Kellem would lean in, a wide-eyed child, seeing every footfall, slide, and harrowingly close-call vividly in his mind. He always knew he'd be out here one day, but he had imagined himself older.

Kellem pushed the mug back to Nobelim. The old dwarf frowned at it. "The next one, then," said Nobelim, forcing a smile.

Kellum was silent as Droet crossed the room smiling broadly. "Here whelp," he chuckled, "looks like you need this more than I do." Droet had already turned to walk away before the pearl chip clattered loudly onto the table.

The Runners around the room sniggered and Kellem's face went hot as a Dragonfire. Kellum caught Nobelim's stare. He didn't see disappointment, but rather doubt, in his old Dwarvish eyes.

The wild cackling of the Red Wizard once again filled the room and the world warped and flashed.

The Seer and the Wizard gave the all-clear.

"Look, I know you're angry, but don't lose your head out there. Stay alert, stay alive." Nobelim said, with a pointed emphasis on the word alive. "This next one is a Copper Dragon. I would tell you they're pretty dangerous, but I think you already know."

"Pretty dangerous." Those words hung in the air, intermingling with the fog that rolled in again from outside, but this time it smelled like rotten eggs and burned leather. Every den had Dragonfog, but each dragon had its own stench. He scratched at the char marks on his armor, wondering if this was the last thing his father had ever smelled.

Kellem stood, huffing like an overridden horse. His eyes met Droet's who smiled back mockingly under his thick red eyebrows.

At Droet's nod the doors opened and the Runners took off, pounding the ground, which revealed itself to be loose stones beneath the tepid fog.

Two men lost their footing and fell almost immediately. Kellum was just barely able to leap over one of them before catching his gait. Seeing that Droet was gaining a considerable lead Kellum sprinted with everything he had. His lungs ached, sweat blurring his vision as all of them bolted up a craggy hill of rock.

Another few men slipped or slowed, but Droet kept the lead next to a spritely wood elf. Nobelim stumbled, bellowing a dwarvish curse word, falling behind.

Exasperated, and with exhaustion creeping in, Kellem did the last thing he could think of. "Not like it did him much good anyway," he thought to himself as he began unfastening his heavy stone armor.

His thick chest plate, heavy tassets, and Stonescale helmet clattered to the rocky hill as he ran. "I'll collect it on the way back," he thought.

The Wood elf who had been bounding skillfully suddenly misstepped, sliding their ankle into a groove in the rock, shattering the bone with a wail and a hideous snap. Droet's eyes blazed angrily under his fiery eyebrows as Kellum overtook him.

Overwhelmed with happiness, Kellum was the first to crest the hill of rock and stone.

The large basin of rock was vast in comparison to the nest of trees they had last visited. Kellem's eyes fell to the ground and, awash with amazement, he saw a glint of copper not too far off. He sprinted for it, bounding neatly from boulder to boulder, unencumbered by the heavy armor he had worn before.

Before long he could make out the shape of a copper scale the length of his arm, and another one lying beside it. He slowed his gait and his smile began to wane as he noticed there were tens of them, maybe hundreds of copper scales set still in the fog. An explosion of scales, some still slick with thick black Dragon blood. The wind shifted revealing a mass in the fog. The corpse of an Ancient Brass Dragon. It appeared mutilated, a massive bite taken from its side.

Kellem blinked confusedly when, amid the sea of copper, he noticed a black piece of Night. A dark scale the size of Kellem's full height. He ran to it, hurdling over huge gouges that marred the stone surrounding the fallen dragon. "It couldn't be," he thought, "there's no way," but there it was. A scale of The Night Dragon. Its surface was deep black, iridescent like a crow's feather, flecked with stars and the swirling of distant galaxies.

"I touched it first," Kellum laughed aloud to himself, beaming with pride. He hefted the Celestial scale and was in awe of it. Impossibly light and strong, This scale would fetch a fortune or make a legendary set of armor after it was properly tempered. Tears welled up in Kellum's eyes.

"Give it here," yelled the familiar voice of Droet. Kellem turned to see Droet bounding towards him, copper scales kicking up and clattering in his wake, his usual smile gone from his face.

"You know the rul–," was all Kellem was able to say before he saw a flash of platinum, Droet's fist slamming into his jaw. He could make out the distant vague sound of a whistling coming through the fog.

Kellem dropped the scale and grabbed Droet by the belt, pulling him to the hard ground. Kellem tried to stand but slipped on the rock, slick with Dragon blood.

"No one will believe that you found it! It should be mine! It belongs to me, not a greenhorn out on their first gusts!" Droet yelled madly, his thick red eyebrows furrowing into a maniacal "V" on his forehead. He grabbed a thick brass scale with both hands and hefted it above his head, then quickly drove it down towards Kellem's face. Kellem grabbed the Night Scale and pulled it over himself to block the blow which glanced off into the stone.

"I touched it first!" Kellem shouted, before bracing against the backside of the Night Scale and thrusting it upwards into Droet’s nose. It connected with a loud clap.

Kellem watched as Droet fell limply, his head slapping noisily to the blood covered stone.

A sick prickly feeling shot up Kellem's spine as night fell suddenly around them.

Three whistle blasts; "maximum threat. Not much time."

Above Kellem, close enough to reach out and touch it, the colossal Ancient Dragon of Night soared by overhead. He stared up into its underbelly, losing himself momentarily in the deep grandeur of the night sky. The colossal dragon was so large that it took several seconds before it passed by, pulling most of the dragon fog along with it. Kellum watched on, jaw shaking and dripping blood, as the massive creature rolled upward towards the sky. “Not much time,” Kellem thought.

With the Dragonfog temporarily lifted, Kellem was able to get a good view of the entire battlefield. “Same for the Dragon,” Kellem thought as he gripped the Night scale, preparing to dart across the battlefield.

He paused and cursed himself under his breath, looking back at the unconscious man. “All for one.”

Kellem rolled Droet’s bleeding form onto the sprawling night sky of the Night Dragon scale. Then, lifting the edge, Kellem began to drag.

He struggled and scraped the scale against the rocky surface, making it almost to the edge of the nest’s basin before night fell once again. Kellum looked up into the face of the Night Dragon as it unhinged its jaws, careening towards him. A purple glow bellowed outward from within the nightmarish creature.

Kellum dropped and rolled the Night scale to cover over both himself and Droet. Sparks and heat showered down around them, the force of the blast crushing Kellum and the fallen Droet into the rock.

With the dragon once again passing by overhead, Kellum threw off the smoking shield-like scale and rolled Droet back onto its cool inner wall. Fissures and cracks formed along the surface of the Night scale but it still carried the weight of Droet up and over the edge of the basin.

Kellem looked down the rocky hill and could see the Cardinal Tavern below, Nobelim standing in the open doors.

The Night Dragon burst the sky open once more, charging its breath weapon. Kellum tipped the scale over the edge, diving onto it and Droet, sending them hurtling down the stony hill. Kellem did his best to steer the scale towards smoother areas, sledding downwards, Droet’s body bouncing beneath him.

The beam of the Celestial Dragon exploded into the rock to Kellems left before darting forward and slamming into the roof of the Cardinal Tavern. Wood bent and splintered with the building imploding inward before the beam stopped abruptly. Kellem, sliding rapidly closer, watched the Wizard, weaving a magical shield with his motions, forcing the beam back and reflecting it out into the sky. He whirled his arms and the flying wood began to slow and retract, mending itself back to the tavern’s previous form.

The tip of the Night scale slammed into a boulder, shattering into a million stars, launching both Kellem and Droet’s bodies towards the warm mouth of the Tavern. They thudded, rolling to the ground with several Runners darting out to help pull them in. Battered and bloodied, Kellem was happy to see Nobelim under his right arm, shouldering him inside.

“Are you alright, m’boy? What the hell happened out there?” Nobelim said, as he laid Kellem onto the tavern floor, slapping his face to wake him up.

Kellem smiled back, “You owe me a victory beer,” he beamed, letting a chip of Night fall from his hand onto the floor.

The last thing Kellem could recall was the roar of the Night Dragon as the Wizard transported the tavern back to the green expanse of the Verdant Reach. There, under the dazzling light of the sun, Kellem recounted his tale. He spoke with confidence, gesturing grandly, as Nobelim watched on with visible pride.

Mordy held the temples of the unconscious Droet, his eyes magically turning pearly white, and was able to corroborate Kellem’s story.

“If he wakes up, he’ll have more than the council of the Scale’s Take to deal with, I tell you that much.” Nobelim huffed angrily.

Kellem smiled, leaned back and sipped his ale, not taking his eyes off of the starry sky of the Night chip he held in his bruised hand.

“You really think they’ll be able to tame this place like they say?” Kellem asked, wiping the foam from his lips.

Nobelim furrowed his brow, stroking the braids of his beard, “Well the Lord of Reussex should be arriving tomorrow. I’d imagine you can ask the monster yourself.”