“As a mage, I'd advise against going to the Desolate Lands. Not speaking about the golems, the dragons and the desert trying to kill every living being in general. It's the atmosphere. This isn't about being forced to cast spells with your own mana. Every mage who has been there knows what I'm talking about. It's such a brutal change from the rest of the continent. The lack of mana will make any magician ill. The air will become painful. It's worse than climbing a tall mountain or diving deep into the sea. It feels wrong and nauseating, as if the body is being stripped of its life force. No point in thinking about fighting stone golems and wandering the cold sand. The mage's first enemy in the desert will be the awful urge to puke and collapse on the ground in foetal position.

-veteran magician coming back from the Desolate Lands”

* * *

Azcheron

Morning came, and with it, the time to depart to the mountains.

Needless to say, everyone aside from Azcheron seemed to be at best uneasy, at worst shivering and feeling nauseous. Needless to say, the scholars were all in the latter category. The mountain range was only a few hours from the fortress on horseback, so it could be said that the danger was imminent.

“Right then, I see some of you shaking in excitement and anticipation. I get it, but don't be impatient ! We'll get to see dragons soon enough ! Impatience brings carelessness, and that will get you killed ! Kahaha !” Azcheron's 'motivational' speech had a peculiar impact on the people that were shaking. They started to puke in joy and eagerness.

No one could guess whether Azcheron was being serious or simply joking, but this way he made it obvious to them that he wasn't scared. But even the Saint couldn't avoid being afraid, although as the leader he would not show it. He knew that Erin was doing the same thing, they both were the moral strength of the group.

They had to look crazy and confident enough. They had to look like they were the entities that made the expedition feasible. They had to convince themselves of that.

It wasn't too hard for Azcheron. He felt that with Erin, he could manage to overcome whatever hurdle they'd face starting today. That's to say how much he trusted her capability and his own. Once his expedition members finished their vomiting session, they went to the stables to get horses. Depending on their route, they might have to discard the mounts at some point, but at least until they arrived at the mountains they could ride without any issue.

Azcheron smiled as he witnessed Erin and the mercenaries jumping on their horses, while the scholars had to get some help.

Here's a prime example of the differences between people with practical experience, and bookworms. Heh.

As he approached a horse he deemed proper for him, his grin froze into a grimace. He stared blankly at the animal and stopped moving entirely. Erin's voice came from behind.

“What's the matter ? You don't like your mount ?”

He turned his head slightly and, judging by Erin's uneasy reaction, must have given her a terrifying look.

“Err... Azcheron ? Want to trade horses or something ?”

“Nnng... How...” he muttered.

Erin dismounted and walked to him. “I can't hear you, what's wrong ?”

“...How do you do this ? How do you... utilize a horse ?”

“Eh.” She rubbed her chin with her hand. “You... don't know how to ride one, do you ?”

Azcheron gave Erin the meanest, blackest glare he could manage through his immeasurable embarrassed anger. Indeed, it had never crossed his mind. He did think about riding horses during his trip from Longhills to the capital, but not once he realized he had no idea how to ride. Since he always opted for walking until now, this critical understanding never hit him before.

He could see Erin emotionlessly turning around and stiffly walking back to her horse. As she grabbed the reins, he could hear a badly suppressed giggle – who did she think she was, a cute maiden !? –, but to his ears it sounded similar to a criminally mocking snicker – that was more like it, a vicious woman, yes. He could only scowl as she finally spoke in a half-compassionate, half-amused voice.

“It's nothing to be ashamed of. Just ride with me and hold tight, alright ? We don't want you to fall.”

Erin putting a stool next to the horse was the nail on the coffin. The rock on top of the nailed coffin. Then the mountain on top of the rock. Whatever else there was after that. Without uttering a single word, he mounted the horse, sitting behind this cruel red-haired woman, piercing the back of her skull with his cold yet burning eyes. Only Pat dared to chuckle at the scene, the others having either enough intimacy with the concept of shame to know how it felt – those where the ones who puked in front of everyone – or being too scared of the Saint's wrath.

They eventually left the fortress to ride toward the mountains, although Azcheron had envisioned the scene as a more stylish one.

* * *

A few hours later, Azcheron's group was climbing a steep slope. They had to dismount and guide the horses by the reins because the terrain was rough and irregular. The soldiers from the stronghold had told them that the shortest and easiest route, a deep valley, would probably be safe currently, seeing as they didn't spot any dragons around it in the last months. As a precaution, Azcheron would use both sound and sight magic to scout the mountains, as long as he had access to raw mana.

It's already feeling rarer and sparser with every step, and we barely entered the mountain range.

Hopefully, they would pass without any issue, and they'd be able to bring the horses to the Desolate Lands. They had taken enough food and water for both the expedition members and the mounts. The supplies should last at least two weeks. It would make their visit far less dangerous if riding was a possibility, because no one imagined that fleeing from a golem on foot would be an easy thing. They'd have to be wary of the environment, of course, to avoid running into the infamous deathtraps of the deserts, which were mainly very sharp and pointy rocks, and random deadly holes and crevices.

Such a pleasant landscape, yes. I can't wait.

But for now they were in the mountains. There was only the sound of boots and hoofs stomping on gravel and rocks, with the occasional sword banging loudly against stone because of some careless idiot, making the mounts whinnying. As noisy as the horses were, they were allowing Azcheron and Erin to take various things with them. For one, the new weapons they hastily crafted the previous day. Their packages were numerous and somewhat heavy, and they'd be too burdened if they were to carry everything by themselves. The mounts were all from a strong breed, trained and feed with scouting, supplying, and various military operations in mind, so they didn't have to worry about the weight of the peculiar luggage.

They made a large quantity of and explosives, some of which were very small and light. Once ignited, their purpose was to explode at the first impact, and they would be fixed on Erin's arrows. Explosive arrows, in other words. These projectiles were crude, brutal and barbaric, but Azcheron felt it suited Erin's style. They ended up borrowing a real bow from the soldiers, because the piece of junk that Erin made was really crappy. Even then, it was still a mere bow and since she wasn't that good with it, they had to find another way to make it work as a weapon, not just as a tool. The explosive arrows would be much heavier so she'd lose a lot of range, and it would not be as potent as Azcheron's spells, but the destructive power of the powder and the range of the longbow, even diminished, should be enough. If it worked as intended, of course.

For himself, he made a few smoke bombs in addition to regular explosives. What he needed mostly was smoke for defence, and explosive power for offence. And a sword. Erin had found him a nice sword. He'd be grateful, were it not for the humiliation she made him suffer through earlier.

If the situation really asked for it, in last resort he'd use some extremely mighty magic. Since he would be forced to draw from his own mana pool, which was easier to work with, he might as well use advanced and difficult spells.

It's been a long time since I've casted a high-velocity fireball or a compressed mana orb ! I kind of hope the golems are resilient enough to let me do some dangerous magic. My pool is much larger than most people so I can afford to cast a few taxing spells while still keeping a safe amount of mana... Can't wait ! Though I also really want to try these explosives arrows.

As they made their way through the bottom the valley, Azcheron felt that something was amiss. The horses were getting nervous. Amidst the noises of gravel being crushed and rocks hitting other rocks, he could swear he had heard a different sound with his enhanced hearing. He lifted his palm and waved downward, signalling the others to stop and keep silent.

Then everyone was able to hear it. It came from the mountain, and it felt heavy and oppressive. From beyond the grey cliffs above them, yes, there was something. Something roaring, in that very low yet very high eerie pitch.

There's no doubt about it. It feels too familiar. Even the others know what this is despite never hearing it before.

It was the continuous roar of a dragon.

The group was starting to panic, in a strange way. They grimaced, paled, began to shiver, but they didn't say a word. No one would make a sound, no one would speak. No one would dare. Even the horses were frozen in fear, their eyes darting around, there wasn't even the need to mute them or put them to sleep with magic. Aside from Azcheron, only Erin and Pat seemed to manage a semblance of composure. But it looked like it could crumble any moment now. Erin was looking at Azcheron with somewhat anxious and pleading eyes. What should we do, she seemed to ask. Do something, she seemed to beg.

Why are dragons here ? This way was supposed to be safe. Shit. I don't know what to do !

But as he was about to give in to distress and nervousness, he noticed. Yes, he realized.

The roar was a sentence. The dragon wasn't just roaring, it was speaking.

Of course. Why couldn't I understand that ? Dragons are smarter than humans. There's no way they'd just act like stupid angry dogs and growl at people for no reason !

As he tried to listen to the eerie yet majestic growling-sounding chant, he wore once again an expression of realization and enlightenment. He glanced again at Erin's pleading face, and answered with a confident smile. He could see a glimmer of relief in her beautiful golden eyes.

The dragon was saluting them. The roar was a greeting and an inquiry. The mighty being was merely addressing the people trespassing in his home. From that finding, Azcheron could gather that people were getting eaten because they were deemed rude for not answering. Maybe ? Then perhaps the dragons didn't know that their language wasn't spoken anymore within the human civilization.

But there were more pressing matters at hand than the possible obliviousness of the dragons. Someone was asking the intruders who they were, and Azcheron had to answer. He tried to speak in a decent speech.

“Greetings, great dragon. I, Azcheron, apologize for our trespass on your territory.”

Azcheron could see the shocked faces on the others, except Erin who now had an expression of confidence and, strangely, pride. After all, he was trying to talk with a dragon, which was exactly what he kept boasting he would do, a month ago. That was indeed an astonishing thing to witness.

Yes, it makes sense. Erin better be proud, for she knows me, honourable draconic diplomat by profession, personally !

The expedition members, who couldn't possibly understand what Azcheron said, were even more surprised to hear the continuous roaring stop. It came back a few seconds later, different this time, more similar to what Azcheron did.

“Human, you are able to fathom our tongue... Verily, such a rare sight.”

What ! So they're aware nobody can speak their language ! Then why the hell are they eating people !

Before Azcheron could keep pondering on the esoteric ways of the dragons, the roaring continued.

“Human, for what purpose have you come hither ?”

Yes, the old moustached professor had warned him. The dragons had the fancy of mixing archaic words in their speech, turning an already annoying language into some kind of hell for the novice ear. Azcheron answered as best as he could nonetheless, indulging in the same fashion.

“Prithee, I am one who seeks answers. To this end, I wander whithersoever I believe could grant me sooth.” He had no idea if his attempt at sounding elegant was any good.

The choir-roar voice occurred yet again.

“Speak, human. We are curious.”

It speaks normally now. Did it notice my pitiful struggle ? And it said we, so how many are they around us ? Well, this dragon made a clear demand, so I'll oblige.

“I wish to learn of my clan, of the Rahal clan's past and origins.”

The silence that followed made Azcheron wonder if he had just doomed everyone with a careless confession. There was no guarantee that dragons would know about the clan, but if they did, they would not necessarily be allied or friendly with it.

Come what may. At least it'd told me that something happened with the dragons long ago...

Eventually, rocks started to move, stones began to crack, and the valley looked like it was about to collapse. Azcheron thought that the dragon had caused a landslide to kill them all, but before he could use magic to protect everyone, the chaos stopped. Without anyone realizing how, a creature was now looking at them from the top of the valley.

A dragon.

It was grandiose, imposing, and menacing. It was monumental, and seemed to be at the same time part of the mountain, yet something entirely different. The sun shined against the splendid stone scales coloured in various shades of ashen grey, the two wings made of silver skin and brown leather, the dark feathered mane, the pair of elongated black horns shooting backward from the head. It was the most beautiful thing Azcheron had ever seen. He felt like an meaningless insect in front of the stone dragon.

And it was only one of the many others that were supposedly lurking in the mountain. But this one must have been an elder or something, judging by its size. It was far bigger than what dragons were supposed to be. Right now it was sitting on its hind paws, its upper body standing up straight, and it must have been as tall as a windmill, at least. The comparison was strangely adequate, seeing as the wings were as large as, if not larger than, the sails of a mill. For a second, Azcheron felt angry with himself for likening the magnificent being to a windmill.

The dragon was no mill, and so it turned its elongated head toward the group. If it had eyes, they couldn't be seen from this angle. It spoke again, without opening its mouth.

“Here is a name we had nigh forgotten...”

It seems the dragons also use magic to speak their own tongue... Azcheron thought, not immediately realizing what the dragon had just said. Mmh. Eh !?

The stone dragon carried on. “Human, behold our decision. We wish for you to further your journey, and to prove yourself worthy of your blood. Do so, Azcheron, and erelong we shall speak again.”

The chaotic sound of falling rocks occurred again, and a smoke cloud covered the group, blinding them. Before they knew it, everything stopped again, and the dragon could no longer be seen. One last roar reached Azcheron's ears.

“Many trials await you. You are warned. Now, begone...”

And the valley became silent. Azcheron turned to face the expedition members. He was met with various faces. Looks of awe, fear, reverence, or confusion. There was something akin to admiration in Erin's eyes. Her reaction was the one that had the most impact on him.

Erin and Pat approached him. The mercenary captain spoke first.

“What was that ? Did you just... speak with a dragon ?”

He nodded. “I guess so.”

“What did you talk about ?” Erin asked with a grin.

“Turns out we only had to introduce ourselves and explain that we wanted to visit the Desolate Lands, then they granted us passage,” he said nonchalantly. He'd tell Erin the details when they would be alone.

“Well, I suppose now we know why the soldiers couldn't spot any dragons here. This one was hidden in the... rocks ? Sleeping, maybe.” Pat scratched the back of his head, trying to figure out something from the dragon's extravagant sense of theatrics.

Azcheron shrugged. There was too much he has to think about at the moment.

The others began to talk among themselves. They seemed very relieved and convinced that Azcheron had just saved them by bargaining with dragons. Which wasn't half wrong. They realized that since the dragon left, the mounts' fear had finally kicked in. They had started to shake, breath loudly and neigh. Azcheron used a weakened sleep magic to calm them, but it wasn't very effective and it took some time before they relaxed.

Now, that was... very interesting. He finally concluded in his mind, as they carried on their trip.

He didn't miss anything from this encounter. As cryptic as the dragon had been, and as approximative his own mastery of the language was, Azcheron managed to gather a lot of information. What the dragon said, what it didn't say, how it spoke, how it looked, how it appeared and disappeared...

From here on, the Saint could only ponder and think.