The Beast

Chapter Twenty-Six

The dragon's lithe body cut through the air with astounding speed, the ice in the air stinging Ylvir through his fur like tiny icicles. In almost no time, they arrived at Grey Castle, the place looming darkly in the overcast sky, it's many towers already topped with white snow.

Slowing significantly, the dragon twisted inside the tunneled entryway, landing where the winds whistled past the opening loudly, coldly. She crouched so Ylvir could easily dismount without disturbing his injury.

They regarded each other for a time, the dragon bowing her head to him, where he placed an appreciative paw. This is where we part ways Ylvir. Here, a parting gift.

Ylvir watched the dragon's present him with the same rose he had felled. He took it cautiously, unsure whether to be pleased or not with the gift and all of its reminders.

You need not feel obligated thank me now, or ever, if you deem it unworthy. I wish you the best of fortunes Ylvir. Should our paths cross again, let it be a happier occasion.

"You have done me a great deal of service," Ylvir spoke, gripping the rose more firmly, ignoring the thorns. He didn't really believe in next times enough to mention them anymore. "Your debt has been paid in full."

The dragon studied him, a strange sadness overcoming the magnificent creature before she finally said, Goodbye Ylvir. And then she left.

Ylvir continued to stare at the rose. It was a bittersweet gift. Perhaps he should have thanked the dragon, or maybe it was better he hadn't.

He shuffled to the great doors of the castle, just as intimidating as when he had left, like nothing had changed. But so much had. He clutched at his healing stomach with one hand and opened one of the large doors with the other.

Instantly he knew something was very, very wrong. It was worse than when he had come home. The coppery smell of blood filled the air, tainted further by the creeping stench of rot throughout. As he stepped inside, the darkness of the great hall was lifted by torches suddenly coming alight.

Ylvir's stomach clenched and heaved at the horrific sight before him. Bodies lay strewn about, blood and gore coating the stone floor. The disfigured men were made unrecognizable in the carnage, contorted limbs severed from torn bodies, death still relatively fresh by the sign of their ravaged flesh.

Killed. Massacred. Slaughtered.

The cursed men were no more. Once again, Ylvir arrived at the scene too late. He would have weeped, or maybe even wretched, if he had not already felt so numb. He was completely shocked and devastated.

"Y-Ylvir? That you?"

From out of the wreckage, one of the cursed men he vaguely recognized stepped out, into the light. Apparently they were not completely gone after all.

"It is. Ye've come back," the man exclaimed shakily, tears beginning to shine in his bulging eyes.

"What happened here," Ylvir asked hoarsely.

The tears finally fell from the cursed man's eyes. "They came in the night. We was so soused, we didn't stand a chance. They killed so many," he hiccuped. "There's not much of us left."

Ylvir watched the man sniffle back tears and still his frightened quivering.

"Why," was all he could ask. "Why would they attack?"

The man hung his head, shaking it miserably. "Not sure. Think I heard 'em accusin' us of attacking at some festival or somethin', but I didn't understand. We never went to no festival. We always stay here in the castle, mind our own business until they come in and poke about. Usually they just come fer the treasure, and we're used ter that, but this... this was different. They didn't even bother with no treasure. They just came fer us. Like we were some kind of animals fer 'em to hunt."