A singsong chant slowly rolled into Tharn’s consciousness. He tried to lick his lips, but his tongue was bloated and his mouth felt full of rancid cotton. He cracked one eyelid briefly, seeing unfocused bands of gray. He decided to lay still and try to sort out the situation.
He was still on his back, but he wasn’t moving nor was he in a wagon. The breeze that ruffled over him smelled like old campfires. His arms and legs were still immobile and whatever he was stretched out on was hard and uncomfortable.
The chant ended and a lone voice spoke. It was Faerun and his voice sounded like a sermon.
“My family, our long journey is nearly complete. All of your suffering and work have led to this, the fruition of the prophecy that was revealed to me lo those many months ago when the breath of our lord on high smote the earth with its fiery force. Long have we traveled and our reward is at hand.”
Tharn forced an eye open and glanced to his side. The pilgrims were grouped below his feet facing their leader, whose back was to Tharn. Comprehension began to unfold in him.
“Soon the lord will appear,” Faerun continued. “He will bless us with his glory and shall elevate us beyond these mere mortal shells into his rapturous otherworld of eternal bliss. With this offering we shall seal the pact.” As he said this he turned and flung an arm over Tharn’s prone body. Their eyes met.
“See, he has awakened for this joyous event! Even now our lord’s work has begun!”
“Let me up,” Tharn croaked. “I can do your work better when I’m standing.”
The cleric moved over to him, reaching out to touch Tharn’s chest almost reverently. “You do not understand, not yet. You have not been initiated as we have. But you will receive the greatest gift of all.” He leaned closer to Tharn’s face, his bloodshot eyes wide and staring. “When you appeared to us, we knew that you had been sent by our lord. We had asked for a sign to be shown what form our sacrifice should take. And then you appeared out of the night and gave yourself to us. You are the chosen one.”
“Sacrifice?” Tharn was horrified. He looked around as far as he could stretch his neck. He was lying flat, tied to a large rock, and all around were dead ash-choked trees. Dark gray clouds boiled overhead. Everything was gray except for the red eyes that stared at him. “You’re crazy. You…”
A deep rumble, more felt than heard, rolled through the ground. Tharn raised his head and saw upside down the massive cone of the volcano looming into the sky, a thick column of gray smoke rolling out of its top.
“You see, the lord speaks even now! Praise to him!” Faerun turned back to the group and the chanting rose again. Tharn looked around desperately, certain that he was minutes away from a knife in the heart or worse. He strained at the ropes but his body was too weak, drained of all reserves of energy. He fell back with a gasp and thought of his family.
A voice shouted, then the group moaned. Tharn saw them pointing into the sky behind him and twisted his neck to see.
Three creatures had flown from behind the edge of the cinder cone. They swiftly grew as they approached the gathering. Tharn saw the size of the bodies and the spread of the jagged wings and, though he had never seen a dragon before, he knew that three were coming near.
The creatures flew overhead, passing several hundred feet over the watching eyes. The bodies looked gray but the skin stretched over the wings was colored deep maroon. They banked after passing, the two smaller dragons splitting away to come sweeping in low. Tharn glanced at the pilgrims and had the grim satisfaction of seeing them huddled together in fear. Faerun stood alone, but clung tightly to Tharn’s rock.
The two dragons cupped their wings and their bodies settled heavily on the ground, ash billowing over the people. Each beast was over sixty feet from nose to tail-tip, but to Tharn’s eye they didn’t look quite mature. They flapped and bounced sideways around the group until Tharn saw their thick bodies stop nearly in line with his spread feet. The pilgrims clustered together and backed nearer to the rock.
The dragon’s heads bobbed and weaved, then one opened its mouth and roared, a terrible sound which ripped through the air and ground, vibrating deep into Tharn’s belly. The other added its voice, raising its head straight up into the sky. In answer came a deep rumble, like the volcano but nearer, and with a flurry of blown ash the third dragon landed behind Tharn. He looked up to see its massive head, nearly twice the size of the younger ones, looming thirty feet up atop its thick neck.
The young dragons looked at the older one, eagerness shining in their eyes. Its head stretched over Tharn’s body, peering at the pilgrims. Tharn saw the underside of the neck extending over him and watched, fascinated, as its scales slipped along each other. The dragon was extremely dirty, but where each scale scraped the ash from its neighbor’s surface a sliver of deep red was revealed. He saw the neck ripple over him and wished that he were holding his sword. He couldn’t cut its head off, not with one blow, but when would there ever be a better chance to mortally wound a creature like this? The neck flexed as its head turned, one eye the size of a pumpkin fixed upon his immobile form. His heart skipped as the red dragon considered him, and he felt certain that the beast knew what he was thinking.
Faerun finally recovered his wits and stepped forward. He dropped to his knees and raised his arms, crying, “Oh mighty Lord of the Earth!” The other pilgrims dropped almost in relief and repeated his call with wavering voices.
The dragon’s eyes shifted and it cocked its head. Faerun licked his lips, blackening his tongue from the blown ash. “We have traveled across the world to see you, to witness your glory,” he continued, his voice growing stronger as he slipped into comfortable language. He raised the tattered book from under his cloak. “As was foretold by your servants over the eons, the power of your…er, your power has touched the earth and released its energy, locked deep in its bowels since the moment of creation. Thus, we have come to witness your rise, your ultimate ascension to power incarnate. As was foretold by your servants, we come bearing a gift, offering the life of this chosen one to solidify your destiny as the bringer of life and death and rulership to the world!”
His voice cracked on the last word and he swallowed hard, looking below the dragon’s head with fearful hope. Tharn barely breathed. Now the only sounds were the slow bass breathing of the dragon looming over him and the wind softly crackling as the ash and grit blew over the rock and against the beast’s hide. Tharn wondered if he was also really hearing the creature’s heart, each slow and powerful beat vibrating through the air between them.
The younger dragons crowed and clacked to each other, necks bouncing up and down as their wings briefly flapped. More ash billowed over the people, causing most to cough. Through tearing eyes Tharn saw a clear membrane slip over the dragon’s eyes, its stare unwavering from the cleric.
Faerun didn’t know what to do. He thought furiously. Had he forgotten anything? No! He had gathered his people as soon as the sign appeared. They had traveled with all speed and had presented the sacrifice with the prescribed words. He began to shake under the beast’s relentless gaze, and a tear rolled down his cheek leaving a black trail. Behind him the group was huddled, eyes to the ground or on his back, and a few were sobbing in quiet terror. Faerun suddenly felt that something was very wrong.
Tharn was awed by the intelligence in the dragon’s eyes. It was terrifying to know that such power had an intellect to guide it. The dragon’s eyes flicked to the rest of the group and Tharn sensed it consider and judge. The beast grunted and the other dragons grew quiet. Then its neck lowered and extended almost level to Tharn’s right, the snout coming to within inches of Faerun as it almost gently sniffed. Tharn was overwhelmed by the profile of the beast’s huge head, each tooth that hung over the scaled lips nearly as large as his leg.
Faerun had now collapsed to his hands and knees, head lowered to the ashen ground. To the astonishment of everyone, the dragon spoke.
“Stand.”
The voice rumbled like distant thunder scraping along granite peaks. Faerun’s head rose, his expression tumbling through amazement, fear, and hope. He stood quickly, trembling with white eyes staring fearfully from his blackened face.
The other dragons cackled and bobbed, their feet stamping eagerly. The big one ignored them, narrowly eyeing the cleric. The corner of its mouth curled up and its jaws slightly parted. Faerun stared limply past the huge yellow teeth into the open maw. The hot sulfurous breath was almost visible as it rolled over him.
Tharn saw everything at once: Faerun facing the dragon, the pilgrims huddled on the ground, the young dragons staring open-mouthed, the gray broken landscape under the roiling smoke of the sky. Grit hissed on the wind around the rock.
The dragon coughed.
Faerun vanished as the air around him exploded in a gout of flame. Then he reappeared, a man-shaped mass of crackling fire that began to stagger backwards. The pilgrims screamed and turned to flee. But the young dragons also screamed and reared up, spreading their wings. Bile rose in Tharn’s throat as a wail started from the burning body, a horrifying sound that should never have come from a human.
The other dragons attacked. One leapt forward, its claws catching two people and stomping their bodies as its head snapped forward, clamping over another down to his chest and lifting the body high. It chomped once, twice, and pieces of the body fell back to earth. Several pilgrims ran to Tharn’s left and the other dragon’s neck snaked up, then lunged forward with mouth fully agape. A blast of fire rocketed from its throat, sweeping over and engulfing the running figures. They fell and rolled, their howls of agony joining Faerun’s, who now fell to his knees, arms slowly beating the air.
The big dragon watched as the other two tore into the rest of the group. Tharn closed his eyes, breathing sharply through gritted teeth. The howls of agony faded one by one, but he heard the dragons continue to chase and attack the rest. The clash of teeth and rips of gouged earth mingled with the remaining screams, and then there was just one voice pleading but cut off with a wet ripping, and then only the hissing and cackling of the dragons as they danced and pawed through the carnage.
Tharn shivered as the smell of torched flesh wafted over him. He steeled himself and opened his eyes. Faerun’s blackened corpse had fallen forward, still crackling as it burned. The young dragons were moving through the killing field, stooping to bite off pieces that were seared to their liking. Tharn was still trembling, but his terror was overwhelmed in a sudden rush of fury. He looked up at the big dragon. It had been watching him out of the corner of its eye, and now turned its head to face him squarely, both eyes focused down its long snout.
Tharn threw himself up against the ropes. “Go ahead!” he screamed. “Do it! Kill me, cook me you black-hearted son of the Abyss! You cowardly living vomit... Gods! I wish I had my sword, I’d rip your neck open and drown in your blood as you died! Bastard!”
The dragon pulled its head up in surprise. Tharn fell back exhausted, glaring at the beast. It stared back unblinking, then reached out a claw and absently poked at the cleric’s smoking corpse. It broke open where the claw touched, fat crackling as blue flames licked up again.
The dragon’s voice rumbled, “You are a poor choice for a gift.” Tharn clenched his jaws, surprised nonetheless that it was speaking to him. “These cattle will never understand, attempting to bribe me with food. What need have I for such a gift, when all is there for taking as I please? Remember to tell your friends that we prefer more tangible trinkets, such as that shiny bit around your neck. Tell them to bring us gifts such as that, so that we might enjoy its beauty while we feast on their remains. Oh, but you won’t be able to tell them, will you? For you shall be dead, too. Alas.” The dragon chuckled, an inhuman rasping that was answered by the laughing cackles from the others.
“Go ahead,” Tharn snarled. “I’m here, helpless, your fattened calf waiting to be served up. You coward! For all your size and your fire you can only attack poor unarmed people. Three big dragons ganging up to kill ignorant peasants. When was the last time you had a real fight? When did you last really earn your meal?” Tharn was panting, his fury starting to fade into resignation.
The dragon stared at him. “I will not waste my time being goaded by such as you. But, in my great power I can afford to be generous. Such spirit does deserve to die. After all, I must protect my children from such vicious cattle as you. But killing these gave me pleasure. Killing you is merely a task.”
Tharn tried to spit but his mouth tasted like ashes and would not moisten. He closed his eyes and softly prayed.
The beast’s eyes narrowed. Its neck drew to its full height, the head looking down at Tharn. “Die well,” it murmured.
Tharn heard the long rush of air as the beast inhaled. He gulped a deep breath and opened his eyes as the dragon’s head snapped down, the mouth opening wide and flame erupting from the back of its throat as it emptied its lungs point-blank to incinerate him.
Tharn briefly felt the heat and pressure envelop him, and he wondered again about the volcano and the lava (there is always time for one last thought).
And then he was no more.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~