Preview: The Dragonkeeper (A D&D Inspired Tale by the Ant)

The half-elf scanned the bar as he entered. The few who noticed him enter simply glanced in the direction of the travel-worn bard before returning to their stench-filled drinks or gory stories. Mark didn’t mind. He was used to such a petty welcome. It was what followed all entertainers. It was a small comfort to know that people at least appreciated them when they played.

          Mark moved towards the bartender. “A couple of hours of entertainment for a bed and a warm meal,” he offered. He gave the bartender a steady gaze, and the man faltered under it.

          “My deepest apologies, but we already offered the night to another of your kind,” the bartender apologized.

          Mark’s eyes narrowed. Who? This is my town! “To whom?” he wondered calmly.

          “A girl with hair of fire,” the bartender replied. “Ash Pennyson. She stepped out for a moment, but she will be returning any moment.”

          As if on cue, the bar’s doors opened, and Mark turned to see a short and thin girl cloaked all in gray. Red hair spilled out of her hood, and she kept her head down, hiding her face from the crowds. She looked up and glanced at Mark. Her blue eyes penetrated him, and dared him to fight her. Mark ignored her silent taunt and turned back to the bartender. “Surely there’s something you can do,” he begged. “There isn’t another inn for miles.”

          The bartender shrugged. “Once she’s done, we can discuss work. She still has an hour to play, however.”

          Mark sighed and turned again. The girl walked up to a small round table in the corner, measured it up, and climbed onto it. Standing tall and defiantly, she threw back her cloak and hood. She had a childish face filled with freckles, but the determination set in her gaze lit up the room. She pulled a flute from the satchel that hung across from her shoulder, and began to play a quiet, mournful tune. The crowd silenced, and listened in awe. Even Mark couldn’t help but admire the rawness of the emotions displayed within the music.

          He silently listened to the music, getting lost within the silent lyrics of the song. He knew this one, actually; his mentor had written it. It was a melody of loss and sorrow. Mark recalled the lyrics as the girl played.

The one of lightning then came,

And with a flash of smoke stole

Everything away, and the flame

Reduced it all down to coal.

The dragon forever was sealed

Away, doomed to be locked forever,

Yet tales will always proclaim,

What heroes might one day discover.

The dragon will return, and finish his mission,

A land to burn, a world to consume

As the one who promised to seal the darkness,

Instead-

The girl abruptly stopped. She dropped her flute and stumbled backwards, her already-pale face going even paler. Mark frowned and glanced around, drawing his dagger. He knew a Detect Magic spell when he saw it, and he could tell she’d found something amiss.

          Thankfully, due to his perceptive nature, he barely managed to avoid the ice spike that had aimed for his head. He threw his dagger in the direction of the spellcaster, buying him enough time to draw his short sword. He murmured a spell and the blade began glowing with a pale pink light. He turned and was thrown backwards as a cold wind shoved him.

          The attacker was a mage, that much was obvious. He had a white robe, white hair, and long white beard, which all said and done partially blinded Mark. He held a rod in his hand, which was a light gray. “Mark Borne, petty thief!” he declared. “Give us back the ring!”

          “Nice try,” Mark mumbled. He lunged with his blade but his hand froze in midair as the man muttered a spell. Movement caught Mark’s eye, and he watched the boomerang fly by his face and hit the mage. The spell broke, and Mark thrust his sword through the old man, who fell unconscious, though physically unharmed. Then he turned to see who his savior was.

          She nodded towards the building’s exit, though paused and waited for Mark to react. He looked around. One man ran out of the building, no doubt to find guards. Most of the others reached for their weapons while eyeing Mark carefully. His welcome, however petty, had been worn out.

          So he ran away with the girl of fire.