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Memoirs of Dragora

By Arogard

Chapter 5: An Esteemed Night Spent On Haunted Soil

Dragora was walking along the path when he looked up at the sky. How beautiful the night had been, full of stars and planets, but so shrouded it was as he caught glimpses of the shimmering sky through the leaves, hoping he did not miss the full moon that was to be on this night.

"There you are! We're camping up ahead; we stayed our advance as soon as we noticed you were missing. Slypnir and I were worried." Zerion exclaimed as he spotted Dragora, pulling the young draconian's mind back to reality.

"Oh, sorry, I was walking when I caught glimpse of the heavens; any way, let us go back, this time I'm staying by the caravan from now on." Dragora remarked as they began to walk up the road together.

"Today's to be Aerinia's anniversary, well tonight for that matter. I'ts not often that the moon is so vibrant, let alone looked so close." Zerion sighed, looking at the white expanse of the lunar being in its full waxing.

"It could also be the lost spirits ferrying themselves to its surface that makes it look so polished, we are nearing the cursed stronghold after all." Dragora said picking up his pace to join with the rest of the company and get some well-earned sleep.

"Hey, wait for me! I'm not as swift of foot as you, and we are near the camp, it's just around the corner." Zerion nagged, struggling to keep pace with his fleet friend, almost walking as fast as an average person's jog.

"Okay, then lets go meet up with Slypnir, I'm sure hes fixing something rather appetizing." Dragora smirked, knowing his partner's ravenous appetite.

They came around the bend to see two men standing guard at a makeshift gate, as stalwart and stoic as statues. The pair greeted the friends and followed them in, returning to their tents while Dragora and Zerion made their way to the rune-inscribed pavilion toward the center of the camp, smelling the aroma that wafted thorough the air, as if the entire camp could smell it. They stepped through the cloth doors, and greeted by their hard at work comrade, sat down to a healthy helping of Slypnir's widely known reagent infused cooking.

"Ah, I'm sure you've seen the moon on the way here, Dragora." Slypnir said, remembering the day that he and Dragora truly became inseparable.

"Yes, and I hold that oath up till my dying breath, for as long as there is a moon to swear by I'll always be by your side." Dragora stated, holding Slypnirs hand caringly.

It was a week before Dragora's 5th birthday in the orphanage when he caught a particularly aggressive fever. During that time, all the healers and mages tried their best with salves and elixers, magic and remedies they could conjure up, but it didn't help. The only other orphan that stood by his side was his only friend, the 4 year old Slypnir, who refused to go anywhere and remain at this friends side. When his fever hit an astonishing 115 degrees, the caretakers could only assume the worst, and came to the conclusion that he would surely pass away. During what seemed his last hours, by day, Dragora gazed at his favorite midnight blossom tree, and by night he looked at the ever ongoing expanse of space and stars, accompanied by his stalwart companion. Neither of the partners know what happened that night, but when the caretaker came up the stairs, expecting to see a horrid sight, was speechless to see Dragora not only alive, but playing with his friend and running around as if nothing happened. It was on that day that Dragora swore a solemn oath to always be with Slypnir.

"I, too, would like to swear this oath so that the three of us will always remain together, even in the hardest of times." Zerion declared, remembering the story that the both of them had told him.

"Then let us never part, even in death." Dragora said passionately, joining hands with Zerion.

"Lets get some sleep, tomorrow's going to be a little rough, we still need to build siege weapons to assault the castle with." Slypnir said, nudging the other two toward their cots.

"It was daybreak when Dragora awoke, looking over to his sleeping companions, and then slowly getting up with the aid of his tail. Still groggy from only what felt like 3 hours of sleep, he stretched and yawned, walking toward the exit of the pavilion to watch the dawn rise. As he stepped forward, however, he tripped over the lip of the door, causing him to stumble noisily. Getting up and dusting himself off, now fully awake, walked outside to examine the trees to see what they could make out of them.

"A little early for work, wouldn't you agree?" Zerion said, stepping out a little bit after his friend.

"A minute waiting is a minute lost to history, its best to make use of what time we have." Slypnir yawned, also stepping out.

"What do you suppose we could make out of the lumber here? It's ebony, so it's sturdy, but our tools won't put a dent in it." Dragora remarked, distraught from their lack of implements to work with the amber infused wood.

"Maybe the soldiers have the apparatus we need; they seem to pack a lot." Zerion stated looking at the few soldiers who jumped up, and woke the others to follow their early-rising leaders' examples.

After the camp had its breakfast, they asked the travel-ready soldiers if they had tools to work with the nearby wood. To their amazement, half the soldiers carried magic saws and the other half carried reinforcing oils and hammers. The trio agreed that they would need siege rams, towers, and onagers, a spread-shot catapult used to devastate armies rather than walls.

The soldiers worked with speed, familiar with the tools of war and how the were constructed, as well as used. Slypnir studied their quick work with watchful and nimble eyes, never having seen how they were made until now, which he observed carefully and took the occasional note for reminders. The majority of that day was spent in building, instructing, and noise, for soon the three partners joined in, having studied the army's work carefully, and helped where they could. By dusk, they had 4 battering rams, 4 siege towers, and 2 onagers. With these tools now at their command the travellers felt confident that they could break the citadel on the horizon's gates and walls, as well as repel the shadow army however many times it was summoned. It was Evening when they marched to reach the edge of the cursed town, where they would rest and lay a heavy assault on the lone standing castle.

It was near midnight when they reached their destination and set up camp partially on the mossy broken stone road. Dragora, feeling slightly lightheaded went to inspect the war machines they had built.

"It was here that you got that fever from, huh?" Slypnir said softly, stepping up toward his life-long friend, sensing he was troubled. "We don't have to go through with this if you don't want to..."

"It's fine! I'll be fine..." Dragora snapped, trying in vain to hide his fear. "It's just... if I get that fever, I don't know if I can survive it this time. I don't want either of you to see me in that state again."

"You won't get that fever again, and so we won't see you in that state. Ease your mind, that's what we're here for. All we can do is be who we are, there's no hiding that, nor is there a way to hide feelings from those closest to us." Slypnir said, seeing his friend for who he truly was once more.

"I'm just worried, about all of us. I guess there's no hiding from you...I'm truly afraid, but we must go on. Even if we turn it will lead to further problems, so I must face my fear, and as long as I have you and Zerion by my side i think I can pull through it." Dragora burst, hugging Slypnir, knowing that only he knew him for who he truly was.

"Then let yourself free, and let us face this menace...together." Slypnir said, embracing the hug and feeling a long-lost tear fall onto his back as they both comforted each other effectionately.