Dragon's Legacy

Chapter 11: Entrance

What they got from the demon's corpse was morbid and interesting. Its tendrils were strong and incredibly elastic. One of the dismantlers recommended using them as ballistae strings. The claws weren't just sharp, they kept their edge even after scratching stone. The scales were the real prize, though. Sharp, solid, and light enough to carry, there were enough scales to have an axe or buckler made for everyone who fought, and then some. Nirk, hobbling around from his injuries, had the biggest smile when he held up the cleaved skull he'd decapitated from the demon. He kept saying he was unsure if he should use it as a helmet, a pauldron, a trophy, or bring it as a gift for Molod's family.

It was when they cut open the demon that many questions were answered. Not all of them, but quite a few. The dismantlers, covered in blood, were talking over one another as they took the demon apart, pointing at specific sections of the creature's anatomy. Rael tried to follow along, but they couldn't tell one goopy bit from the other. Finally, the dismantlers cut open whatever worked as the monster's stomach, finding three partially digested bodies closer to its mouth. Not whole, mostly crushed and torn apart, but they still had jewelry that helped identify them. Greem's blood-brother and two other hunters, with what was left of a couple pickaxes.

"They probably went looking for the demon, found its cave, and decided farming its resin would be better." Edith explained at the longhouse. "The operation was doing well, until they realized that it was eating people." The Shieldmaiden was standing, fists flat against the table. The silver torcs of the accused lay before her on a cloth. "Someone had the bright idea of hiding the emergency flags, probably so they could buy time to farm more resin."

"Only it backfired when the demon ate them." Greem said softly, eyes focused on his blood-brother's torc. "Why was he such a fool?"

Edith held up a shard of resin to the candlelight. Rael, Derrol and Kip watched from behind the Shieldmaiden, the flickering of the flame dancing in the amber material, glittering like a diamond. "It is beautiful. Same color as amber but..." Edith slammed the shard against the table. When she removed her hand, the shard was intact, and the table was indented. "It's much harder. Could be used as jewelry or as weapon materials."

Greem was staring at the hole in his table.

"That was an ancient willow table." He said blankly.

"Hush up." Edith rolled her eyes. "We're not taking it with us."

Greem swiveled his head.

"'We?'"

"Yes, 'we.'" The Shieldmaiden nodded. "It's not safe to leave all of you here. With our recent casualties, we have enough space on our ships to take all of you to the Stone Circle."

Greem's expression fell from grim acceptance to one of fear and despair.

"The Norns are going to flay me."

"As much as your village was a devastating failure," Greem flinched at Edith's harsh words, "nobody could have anticipated a demon. Nor could they expect you to not trust your blood-brother."

"So what do we do now?" Greem sighed, sinking deeper into his chair.

"You walk outside, call a Thing, and tell everyone to gather the essentials and prepare to leave."

Greem bit his cheek, his gaze lingering on his blood-brother's distorted torc. "What about—"

"We leave them here." Edith spoke with finality. She wrapped the torc in a cloth and left it on the table. "Their names will be stricken from the records, and no burial rites will be given. Their greed has condemned the people of this village to this fate; their memory is tainted."