Chapter 12: Aedain's Plan

Dulheim

         A couple of days passed since May became Aedain’s hostage. She got used to the new routine – their group would wake up every day at dawn, then May and Erik would eat breakfast. Next, they all were marching until dusk and afterwards set camp for the night. It was clear to her that Aedain had some purpose, was searching for something, and May had a hunch that Erik’s kidnapping, and the upcoming lunar eclipse were somehow connected to it. The lizard demons, who attacked Aedain’s group the other day, mentioned a spear, and it was the only clue May had.  Not that she didn’t try to investigate – she did, but every time she tried to ask Baltar or Erik, the long-haired demon sent them a warning glare, efficiently silencing them.

         May realized that she could only wait patiently for a convenient opportunity to escape. For the time being, she managed to maintain a fragile truce between herself and Aedain. They spoke to each other as little as possible, May refrained from talking back to him and Aedain controlled his habit of grabbing people’s throats.

         She tried to befriend Meirch as she now was riding on the creature half of the time. May kept bribing the demonic horse with fruit and had an impression that it liked her a little more at present. At least, it wasn’t scaring her on purpose anymore. Much to her amazement, Meirch turned out to be a very friendly animal, although  he looked fearsome, and was a sworn vegetarian.

         However, May had a hard time getting used to the everyday misery Her back was sore from sleeping on the bare ground. During the nights, she was covering herself and Erik with Aedain’s cloak he gave them, but she was always shivering before dawn anyway. May also made a discovery that grass in the world of the Callesmere Empire was edible, but it tasted awfully.

         Surprisingly, the other demon, Baltar, turned out to be not as horrible companion as he thought him to be. He seemed crude, violent and somewhat cruel, but he liked good laugh nearly as much as he liked a decent brawl. His personality reminded May a bit of an unruly child who enjoyed bullying the weaker. The bald man was clearly happy that he found a listener, who would withstand the endless tales about his adventures and lame jokes.

         May was quite shocked, when the muscled demon told her that he was nearly one hundred and fifty years old, whereas Aedain was a little over a hundred years old. When May inquired further, the demon betrayed to her that fate brought the two demon warriors together about eight decades ago, when Baltar’s long-haired superior was only a little boy much like Erik. Ever since then they had traveled with each other, facing numerous foes and bettering their skills with every battle they fought.

         “Baltar,” May spoke, once more trying to get some information on her captors. “Tell me, where exactly are we going? We have a destination or something like that?”

         “Not your business,” Baltar grunted, cautiously glancing at Aedain. “But I can tell you something else.”

         And so May learnt, there were all kinds of demons inhabiting the lands of twelve human dukedoms, from the sea to the east to the mighty Bradan Mountains in the west, called in the demons’ language Ard Briahdain. Baltar betrayed that his kind lived in the places, where the humans were afraid to venture – in the ancient woods, hidden among the mountains, inhabiting the swamps and the sites thought of as haunted. After three long centuries of war between the human newcomers and the native folk of the Callesmere, called by Baltar Kal Laismarr, the fragile peace came and both races were mostly ignoring the existence of another for the next six hundred years, not invading the territories. From time to time, incidents happened, when a brave human warrior came to an idea of slaughtering demons or a hostile Laismaran, as it was the proper name of a member of Baltar’s race, decided to murder the villagers.

         May learned the basic differences between demons and humans. The native inhabitants of Kal Laismarr were born in huge diversity of forms: some of them resembled normal animals; others were like beasts from European legends or forest spirits. However, the demons could disguise themselves as humans, many even spent their entire lives in such form, rarely reverting to the one they were born in. However, no matter how hard they tried to copy human appearance they weren’t able to change the naturally golden color of their eyes.

         The individual abilities of the Laismarans and their strength varied greatly, depending on the type of demon they were, the power of the bloodline and sometimes luck. Baltar said that he and Aedain were exceptionally strong among their race, their senses far more superior to the ones of a human; they could spot a rabbit from a mile and track the scent of a person like a hound.

         Baltar continued his tale, sharing with his human companion, that some Laismarans lived in castles of their own, far from the human’s reach, preserving the relics of the long-lost  magnificent civilization. The centuries of war and the destructive influence of the humans made the Laismaran traditions fade. Many of Baltar’s kin forgot the language of the ancestors; most of the cities fell, and his people were forced to live in hiding. The contemporary demons were merely a faint shadow of their powerful ancestors, fewer in numbers, their will to fight crushed by the long years of defeat.

         “But it won’t be long now,” Baltar voiced his opinion, a confident and proud smile playing on his lips as he petted his prominent goatee.

         “What do you mean?” May asked.

         The demon patted the heavy battle axe on his back.

         “Aedain, son of mighty Keallach, will soon get the power to return the things they once were,” Baltar stated firmly, with unwavering faith reflecting in his yellow eyes. “After the eclipse, when he finds the ancient Spear all Laismarans will get together under one banner.  Aedain will lead all those lazy bastards, and he’ll make sure that not one of the stinky humans remains. No Laismaran mother will have to fear that humans will kill her offspring. Every Laismaran man, woman and kid will be able to come out of hiding, with their heads up and back straight, proud to be who we are. The golden ages will return to Kal Laismarr once the plague is destroyed.”

         May felt drops of cold sweat gather on her forehead, as she listened to Baltar’s zealous speech. Finally, she made him spill the beans, but now she regretted it.

         “Baltar, what exactly is going to happen after this eclipse?” she asked her companion.

         Erik stared at the big bald demon, clutching May’s hand, as they were walking side by side. Baltar made a smug face, like he was satisfied with himself.

         “After the eclipse… there will be a war,” he replied, visibly pleased with the impact his words had on May and Erik. He had such joy upon his face as though in his mind a war was an equivalent of Christmas. “It will be the biggest war since the time of the Great War six centuries ago.”

         Erik blinked, furrowing his brows.

         “What was Great War?” he asked.

         Baltar rolled his eyes to the question.

         “Humans are truly stupid,” he groaned, before beginning to explain it to May and Erik. “Nine hundred ago, something terrible happened. Something that destroyed the peace in the kingdoms of Kal Laismarr. Ships came from the east, from across the sea. They were carrying many warriors each. They landed on the shores and began building fortified settlements in the east. At first, my kind ignored the danger, thinking of the gael, humans, as of no threat to us. My ancestors thought that weak, fragile beings, who live so short and die that easily, were harmless. However, they were wrong. Very soon the humans began breeding, quickly multiplying their numbers. More were coming every day in the ships from the east. They learnt of our existence and began preparing to fight to claim Kal Laismarr as their own lands. The four kings recognized the threat, but it was already too late. If only they had acted earlier…”

         Baltar frowned, crushing in his palm a rock he was holding. When he outstretched the fingers, sand fell to the ground.

         “The war lasted for nearly three centuries; the humans were stubbornly conquering one piece of land after. Kal Laismarr was ruled by four powerful kings: one in the North, one in the West, South and East. All of them were prideful as hell and instead of uniting, they were arguing with each other for years.

         Three hundred years after first human set foot on the Laismaran soil, the four ancient kings of Kal Laismarr summoned all of our race able to fight, men and women, to gather in the fields of Daranoth. The summer was long and hot. The live-giving waters of An Thalain nearly dried up, leaving a muddy ford. And there stood the two greatest armies, the world had ever seen – gathered there, separated by the mucky riverbed of An Thalain. The number of humans and Laismarans was equal, but we were stronger by nature. The kings and the clan leaders were conceited, sure to win, what contributed to the defeat. The humans’ positions were fortified, but the leaders ordered to attack head-on, leading the charge without even checking of the humans didn’t have a trump card.”

         May and Erik held their breaths, listening to the tale of a long-forgotten  battle.

         “And,” May urged Baltar to continue. “Did they have it?”

         The demon nodded.

         “Of course they did. The majority of the clan’s forces leapt forwards and got into a trap. It turned out, that the human sorcerers set up a fancy spell, which was supposed to hold the enemies inside, taking away the ability to move. The human archers began killing the trapped Laismarans one by one. The rest of the forces attacked the human army, but then he stepped out. It became legendary, the moment, when the crowd of bearded human warriors let him through, so that he could face our army alone. He was tall for a human, carrying a massive spiky armor on his back. The cloak of silver hair covered his shoulders; the long beard had the same color. He was fearless, when he stood in front of the armies of Laismarans of all shapes and sizes, all wanting his blood. He was an enemy, but my ancestors harbored great reverence for his courage and skill. The human wielded a spear, dark as though it was forged out of the very essence of the night. He lifted it and Laismarans began dying, defeated by the great power of the weapon. He killed three kings, the clan leaders, one by one. No one was a worthy adversary for him. No one except King Kaegan mab Ruanaidh, the most powerful of the Laismarans. They battled for hours, while the Laismarans and humans fought, steel against claw, blade versus fang.”

         Baltar raised his voice, with passion describing every blow and the counterattack, as though he saw the duel with his own eyes.

         “The sun was setting, when both Kaegan and the human fell, mortally wounded. By that time, most of the two armies were destroyed; An Thalain’s empty riverbed filled by the blood of the fallen, never to run dry again. It’s because of that the humans call it the Red River. Kaegan and the human called the “Dragonslayer” were buried with honors side by side, saluted by humans and demons, who recognized their courage.”

         Mai furrowed her brows, noticing the inconsistency in what Baltar said.

         “I thought, that the demons lost this battle, but what you said, it looks like it was a draw,” she shared her doubts.

         “It was,” Baltar agreed. “No one really won that day. But, it was what came after the battle, that decided on the fate of Kal Laismarr. The humans grew in numbers much faster than our kind did. They began to prosper, pushing the Laismarans out of their ancient territories. To survive, we had to learn how to assume human-like appearance and speak their language. Eventually, the humans united in one nation and built their capital on the bones of dead kindred and enemies, fallen in the Battle at An Thalain.”

         “Thorongard,” May whispered, recalling the name of Callesmere Empire’s capital. 

         She knitted her forehead, connecting dots in her mind. Baltar said that a spear will be found. This spear, could it be the very same weapon as…

         “The Dragonslayer’s Spear,” she whispered. “You two are looking for the Dragonslayer’s Spear.”

         Baltar cursed loudly, when he realized, that he had said too much.

         “Just forget…” he began.

         “Aedain wants to get it and start a war, after the eclipse, doesn’t he?” May questioned Baltar, angry look on her face. “He can’t do that!”

         May was so fired up by the talk with the huge demon, that she didn’t notice Aedain coming closer.

         “I can and I will.” Both May and Baltar stiffened, hearing Aedain’s deep voice. The black-haired demon sent a scolding glare at his sidekick. “I hope, that you are pleased with yourself.”

         Baltar stared down at his feet like a child who just had been scolded by its father. He reluctantly gazed up into Aedain’s cold eyes.

          “I didn’t mean to blabber out that much,” the bald demon admitted with shame and guilt clearly written on his face.

         “Now humans know about my plans,” Aedain said calmly. “It is unfortunate. Tell me, Baltar, do you want this female and the boy dead so badly?”

         Baltar glanced at May and Erik, who stood petrified at his side, and then he slowly shook his head meaning is as a “no”.

         “No?” Aedain shifted his gaze from Baltar to May. “Pity, for they will die because you couldn’t watch your tongue.”

         Baltar furrowed his brows, and May brought Erik closer to herself.

         “No, please. Don’t kill us,” May uttered, protectively embracing the child.

         Aedain’s gaze wasn’t leaving the pair. His eyes didn’t show an ounce of compassion or mercy. His face was perfectly emotionless.

         “I intended to let you go after I get the Spear,” he said. “But I cannot risk you leaking my plans to your kin.”

         “I won’t tell anyone! I promise!” May hastily assured Aedain, wanting to save her own and Erik’s skins at the moment.

         However, the black-haired demon snorted, as though he just heard a good joke.

         “You promise?” he repeated, speaking in a mocking manner. “Human’s promises are worth just as much as dirt. Betrayal and deception lie in the very nature of your kind.”

         May clenched her fists and glared back.

         “And senseless cruelty is in yours!” she accused Aedain in a meager attempt to come up with a witty reply.

         Aedain smiled, showing his teeth.

         “Cruelty is better than weakness, human,” he answered.

Riada Swamp

         “Ach, beer!” Sigurd’s eyes gleamed with joy, when his cousin brought a pint of beer and the both men sat on the bench outside the inn, relaxing after a long day of hard work in the fields. Thankfully, the sowing was successful, as all Sigurd’s sons helped him this year.

         “There’s still no rain,” his cousin stated, boring as always.

         Sigurd shrugged his shoulders and took a gulp of the golden liquor, decorating his beard with the foam. He outstretched his tired legs and looked in front of himself. The settlement in the very heart of Riada Swamps was a hidden paradise. The village, where Sigurd and the other lived was surrounded by deadly marshes. The forest around was treacherous – one wrong step and Riada Swamps swallowed a careless traveler. The marshes went for miles, the whole northern part of Rimmisth Dukedom. The place had the opinion of haunted and not without a reason – it was the lair of the forest witches. The creatures were  said to be descendants of demons and were known for having close ties with forbidden magic. They assumed a form of beautiful ethereal women, who seduced and lured the travelers into depths of the swamp to kill them. Or to do something else.

         The dukes of the neighboring dukedoms were often banishing the criminals into the Riada Swamp, sending them for long, painful death, far worse  than an executioner’s axe. Most of them died, but some survived, living with the red-haired witches in the village. The boys were born very rarely, so the males were always welcomed. With the flow of time, the population grew and the both kinds coexisted peacefully, lending each other a hand and mixing.

          “You know, what’s the best in living here?” Sigurd asked his cousin, drinking the rest of his beer in one gulp.

         “Views?” the other man asked.

         “Screw the views!” Sigurd waved his hand. “Taxes, or rather no taxes. We’re living in the middle of the freaking Riada Swamp, with a bunch of witches and no tax collector has the guts to suck us dry from our money!”

         “We don’t have money here, Sigurd,” the cousin reminded him, stoically sipping his beer.

         “Oh,” Sigurd muttered, remembering the fact. He opened his mouth to share another wisdom, but instead whistled, as a tall slim forest inhabitant passed by, dressed in a short tunic, a bow over her shoulder and flaming red hair flowing behind her. “My dear cousin, we’re damn lucky to live here.”

         The cousin mumbled a response and continued drinking. Sigurd sighed, cursing his gloomy relative.

         Then, something caught his attention. An exceptionally big eagle sailed across the cloudless sky, his flight uneven as though the animal wasn’t a stranger to alcoholic beverages. When the bird dove toward the ground, Sigurd winced, taking in it’s appearance – the creature looked rather like a chicken readied for the dinner that the king of birds. There was only one eagle, which was that ugly.

         “It’s the witch’s familiar,” Sigurd elbowed his cousin, pointing the figure.

         “What?” the cousin asked without much energy for gossiping.

          Sigurd rolled his eyes.

         “Look, he’s carrying something in his claws,” he hissed and straightened his back to observe the bird until it flew into the witch’s house – the secluded tower  with ancient wines growing all over it.

         Lavena, the elderly sorceress of Baigh Riada, called the Riada Swamp in human language, sighed heavily, staring blankly at her desk. She was deep in thought, bothered by what she had read a while ago.

         The window was open, letting the wind play with Lavena’s gray, wavy locks. The sun was reflecting in one strand of red hair, the remnant from her youth long gone.  Her green robe was loosely hanging on her thin shoulders. When elderly, some women tend to get plump, others go dry, as though time began sucking the life of them already. The witch belonged to the second category.

         “Not good,” she muttered; her mind focused on a scroll she translated just two nights ago. She was coming to an unwanted conclusion and the more she thought about it, the more correct it seemed. “Someone knows about the Portal.”

         But… how? And, more importantly, why? Did that person have a desire to exploit the wonders of the world beyond the Veil or was it simply out of curiosity? Whatever the reason, it was dangerous to delve into the depths of the forbidden knowledge. Arnstein should have known that and yet he had asked her to translate the parchment. Lavena suspected he had good reasons, but she had a feeling that she shouldn’t have trusted his good judgement.

         Lavena was so enticed in musing over the portal that she didn’t notice the arrival of her familiar, until the balding eagle let out a tortured squeak. Startled, the witch almost fell from her chair. When she lifted her eyes, a gasp escaped her throat.

         “Weren’t you supposed to deliver that to Arnstein?” she muttered, taking from her familiar the original of the parchment she had been reading a while ago. She unrolled the scroll. Inside there were two pages – the ancient, yellowing one and the new, translated one. The smell of the fresh ink was still noticeable. Lavena frowned, not finding any letter. It wasn’t like Arnstein to beg her to translate a Laismaran document and then simply send it back. No, something must have happened. Was it connected to the Portal? It had to be.

         Lavena stood up, nearly overturning the chair. She grabbed the traveling bag she didn’t have an occasion to use in a while, and began stuffing it with all the necessary items. It looked like she would have to take a trip to Farn and find out why Arnstein didn’t get the delivery and who was looking for the information on portals.

         Hastily, she packed everything she needed and left the spacious chamber. The balding eagle squeaked miserably and turned around clumsily, his sharp claws grazing the wooden surface of the desk. With a cry, he soared into the sky.

          The wind rustled the parchments on the table.

Dulheim

         The night after May had discovered Aedain’s plan to declare war upon the whole human kind in the Callesmere Empire sleep refused to grace her. His resolve was unsettling, to say at least. Her captor was a ruthless, cruel demon; a couple of days before she saw the sample of his fearsome abilities when he literally ripped another group of demons apart with his bare hands. May was sure, that he could defeat a whole small human army without breaking a sweat. If Aedain was so fearsome and dangerous now, what a monster he’d become once he got his hands on the Dragonslayer’s Spear, he was searching for? If its power was as great as May suspected, Aedain would be able to turn the entire cities into dust with one swing of the weapon.

         To think that countless men, women and children would have to die because of the thirst for revenge for some war that happened almost a millennium ago. Most of the human inhabitants of the Callesmere Empire surely forgot it already. Whatever were wrongdoings of their ancestors, how could the innocent be blamed for that?

         May rolled onto her back and stared into the night sky above; tonight it looked grim. The light of stars was dim, partially covered by clouds. The moon shone lonely in the sky, abandoned by his smaller and brighter companion. The two moons had danced around each other several nights, but the bluish one was gone already.

         The night was long, just like the daytime here, in the world of the Callesmere. After about two weeks since her mysterious arrival, May had noticed that it was something weird with the time. The days seemed to be much longer than back at home. Without a watch, it was hard to tell precisely, but the girl was sure that days in the Callesmere were five or six hours longer than a twenty-four-hour  Earth day. It meant time a month spent here must have been even longer back at home.

          The girl felt a stab of fear and sadness when she realized that her family would be soon back in Baltimore. What would be their reaction when they met Lady Maewyn instead of May? The girl sighed heavily as her heart sank. She missed all three of them so much that it hurt…

         May groaned, feeling that some root was poking her back, making the sleeping impossible, even if her thoughts would let her close the eyes tonight. She pulled rolled onto her other side, focusing on counting sheep.

         A loud noise woke May from the brief nap. The girl immediately sat up, half-asleep and feeling confused. It was still dark, everyone in the camp, except Aedain and Baltar, was soundly asleep. The two demons were in a middle of what looked like a war council. The two of them were sitting in front of each other with serious looks on their faces.

         “We have been wandering around like idiots for days. You need to ask her. There is no one else…” Baltar was convincing Aedain, but his short-tempered superior interrupted him almost instantly, slamming his fist against the ground.

         “Fool!” the long-haired demon hissed. “She will tell me nothing!”

         “But…” Baltar wrinkled his forehead, set on convincing Aedain. “If someone knows this blasted place, it’s her! You won’t figure it out on your own!”

         “Damn you, Baltar,” Aedain muttered, closing his eyes and folding his arms.

         May thought that he looked like a spoiled child who didn’t want to listen to the voice of reason. Actually, the conversation between both men got the girl interested.

         “Who were you talking about?” she asked, addressing the question at no one in particular.

         Aedain grunted, refusing to even grace her with his glare, but Baltar seemed all too eager to satisfy her curiosity.

         “Just about the witch…” Baltar said.

         “Baltar!” Aedain’s eyes snapped open as he sent his underling a warning look; a look which Baltar completely ignored.

         “… who probably knows where Uaimth Dorchadais is…” the bald demon continued as though he didn’t hear Aedain’s protest.

         “Shut up!” Aedain yelled, clenching his fist and glaring at his overly talkative companion.

         “What’s Uaimth Dorchadais?” May asked, hoping she pronounced the Laismaran words properly.

         “The place where the Dragonslayer’s Spear is hidden,” Baltar replied in spite of Aedain’s warning look.

         “Oh.” May blinked. “And what’s the problem?”

         “The witch doesn’t quite like Aedain,” Baltar explained, completely ignoring that his superior was glaring at him with murderous intent. “Can’t blame her actually. He’s got quite a temper, doesn’t he?”

         Aedain huffed and stood up, slightly trembling with fury.

         “I swear, Baltar, I will kill you one of these days,” he said, trying to sound calm.

         May sighed. Knowing Aedain, he must have terrorized that witch in some way. His problems were none of her concerns, but still, she had already a plan forming in her head. She needed him to be away for some time; it could be her sole chance to escape him. With only Baltar around she could actually stand a chance to escape.

         “I’m sure that this witch would tell you where your Spear is, if she was asked nicely,” she said sarcastically, looking at Aedain. The words “nice” and “Aedain” sounded unnaturally in one sentence.

         “Hn,” the demon snorted.

         He turned around, but he seemed to have changed his mind and looked back at both his comrade Baltar and May. They froze, as if expecting something terrible.

         “Woman,” he addressed May after a moment. “Are you certain, that you could persuade the witch?” he asked.

         The girl gasped, not liking the turn of events. Did Aedain want her to talk the witch into helping him?

         “Me?” May asked hesitantly and shook her head. “No, I don’t think, that…”

         “Baltar,” the demon ordered, interrupting May in mid sentence. “Take Meirch, the boy and follow me to Baigh Riada. We will go ahead.”

         “We?” May repeated, suspecting the worst. “What do you mean by ‘we’?”

         Aedain stalked to her and grabbed her sash. She tried to push herself away from him, but he was holding the cloth firmly.

         “You are coming along with me,” Aedain explained patiently, before he closed arm in a crushing grip of his fingers.

         May felt, that her nightmare was coming true. She wanted to get rid of him for the day to escape, but instead she got to spend time alone with HIM. Why?

         “Let go, take someone else, take Baltar!” May desperately tried to wriggle herself out of this situation.

         Baltar arched his thick eyebrow and made an amused face.

         “Have fun you two,” he muttered.

         “Hey!” May protested. “How could you!”

         Baltar smirked playfully like a big child.

         “Just don’t have TOO much fun!” he called, suppressing laughter and waving to the pair.

         “Shut up, both of you!” Aedain suddenly yelled. “Baltar, one more word and you will evaporate. May, you are coming along. Do not dare to disobey me!”

         Both May and Baltar fell silent, startled by a sudden display of anger. May whimpered as Aedain violently pulled her closer to him and dragged her down the path, toward a bigger clearing. She clawed at a nearby tree, but the demon yanked her so forcefully, she was afraid he tore her arm out of the joint.

         “Stop resisting,” Aedain muttered, not even taking his time to glance at her.

         May clenched her jaws, not wanting to say something she would regret later. She tried struggling, but it was pointless – the demon didn’t even slow down until they reached the edge of a meadow. Finally, he released her from his grip and shifted his attention to the sky. He bore a focused expression on his face, as though he was making calculations in his head.

         “There should be enough place here,” he muttered to himself and went ahead to the middle of the clearing, leaving May behind. Before the girl could have any ideas, he looked at her over his shoulder. “Wait here.”

         “Wait for what?” she asked.

          “I will change into my original form.” Aedain offered a brief explanation that didn’t really clarify anything.

         May nodded, unsure what he meant by that. His original form?

         Then the air around Aedain began to change. A strong wind swirled around him. The girl took a step back, not knowing what the hell was going on. She gasped, as his whole eyes turned golden and the pupils went vertical. Suddenly, May got scared and felt the urge to escape.

         “Stay where you are,” the demon ordered, noticing her fear. May couldn’t not notice, that his voice changed into deeper, more beastly one. “I will not harm you.”

         Then Aedain gritted his teeth, the grimace of pain distorting his face and May had to squint her eyes because of the flash of the brightly red light that erupted from his body. She saw his limbs distort as the bones were breaking, growing and reforming; the human form of the demon disappeared, when he transformed into something entirely different, huge as a house. May couldn’t gaze away from this creature, as her jaw dropped. The sun rays were reflecting in the crimson scales. The girl took a step forward, amazed by what was before her eyes.

         “Awesome,” she commented, staring at Aedain.

         A dragon.

         Aedain transformed himself into a genuine dragon, just like the creatures from fairy tales. The body of the beast was scaled. He had everything a dragon should – jaws full of fangs, sharp talons, spikes along his spine, a long dangerous-looking tail and leathery wings. Despite the enormous size, the beast’s silhouette was graceful.

         A loud roar woke May from admiring the fairytale creature, when Aedain moved his head pointing with his head at his back.

         “Get yourself on,” the dragon said to her, his voice still resembling the one Aedain had in his human-like form, but it was considerably deeper and raspier.

         She ran to him, not wanting to make him waiting – angering a beast with talons as long as her forearm wouldn’t be a good idea. When she was at by his side, she reached to touch the scales. They were smooth and warm. Aedain roared again, obviously wanting her to get on already. May clumsily managed to climb up, using one of the wings to support herself. When she was finally on his back, she grabbed firmly one of the spikes that grew out of the dragon’s back on the spine line.

         “I’m ready,” she announced and as on her signal, the dragon leapt to the sky.

         May squeaked and held onto the spike tighter, squeezing her eyes shut. When Aedain flattened out, she opened her eyes cautiously. The huge beast underneath her was majestically gliding right above the clouds, the wings batting the air rhythmically.  May forgot she was so high above the ground, amazed by the sensation - flying on the dragon was just unbelievably awesome! If only she could tell that anyone back at home… No one would believe her anyway. The thought, that she was actually riding on the evil arrogant asshole Aedain was kind of unsettling, but now that he assumed the form of a dragon she didn’t care; it was just too great.