The Ghost King and the Black Dragon

Preface for context: Geraldus’ and Elias’ families were lost to a terrible storm overseas while journeying to a new land named Ioflar, a land that Geraldus is now the king of. Stormwalker is the ‘mother of all dragons’ and controls storm magic (think Tiamat). Geraldus blames Stormwalker for both his and Elias’ families’ deaths.

Thunder booms outside as Geraldus storms in, the great hall doors slamming behind him. Elias startles awake in one of the padded chairs just inside the doors, leaping to his feet. He clutches a torn parchment in one hand.

“Geraldus! You’re back! I need to talk to you,” he says.

“Not this again,” Geraldus mutters.

“You’ve done enough. It’s time to leave the dragons alone.”

“Just like they left our families’ boat alone?” Geraldus huffs. “Not a chance.”

“You need to be the one to end this. Don’t you see how many of your men have fallen? More will die if you don’t call them back.”

“It’s a war, people die. That’s what happens.” Geraldus walks over to one of the long tables and grabs a sweet roll from a platter, biting into it with relish. “Tell Hilda she outdid herself with the food tonight. She needs to make pastries more often.”

Elias tries a different tactic. “You’re Ioflar’s king now. Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, be turning your gaze toward your people?”

“That’s what I have you for, isn’t it? To deal with… domestic disputes?” Geraldus spits out the word.

Geraldus makes his way toward the stairs, but Elias plants himself in front of his friend, arms wide. Geraldus rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll start a festival or something. Will that placate you?”

“When does this stop? The killing, the genocide?”

“Genocide is a rather ugly word to use with those monsters.”

Elias ignores him. “You’ve already avenged both our families. You can let this go now.”

Geraldus stands straighter, tipping his chin up to glare at Elias. “Let this go? Are you serious? I’ve come nowhere near to avenging our families, thanks to you.” Elias takes a step back, stung. “They can only rest in peace when I’ve rid this world of Stormwalker.”

Elias rubs his temples. “We’ve been over this. The dragons hold a significant portion of this land’s magic. If they disappear, the balance will topple and this land will be chaos.”

“This land can rebuild without the influence of dragons.” Geraldus shoves past Elias, stomping upstairs. Elias doesn’t stand in front of him this time, but tries one last plea to stop him.

“Please let this rest! You don’t know what will happen if you continue to kill dragons!”

“Yes I do,” Geraldus calls over his shoulder. “They will never be able to take another life like our families’.” He pauses at the top of the stairs, arm on his door. “Sleep well, friend.”

Elias looks back at the parchment in his hand as Geraldus disappears into his chambers. It was a letter for aid from one of the cities in the far reaches of Ioflar, the third one this moon. This one was from a town nestled in the Grimscar Mountains. They had been plagued by famine for weeks, barely able to grow enough food between caravan deliveries. Most resources had been sent to the larger city of Brackenworth upriver, stocking the town for the Black Dragons, the armed forces under Geraldus’ command. What’s more, a treant had been spotted just outside the Grimscar Mountains, causing the villagers quite a scare. Of course, Geraldus has no more concern for this occurrence than for what he ate for breakfast. Elias sighs, stuffing the letter into his breastcoat.

Elias hates the dragons just as much as Geraldus. They took his family in the storm as well. But for the mistake of some, all do not need to die. Yes, storm magic is attributed to the dragons and Stormwalker, but he can’t believe that Stormwalker purposefully destroyed his family. From the legends and stories he would sneak past Geraldus (for Geraldus would never allow that sort of reading), Stormwalker, or the Mother of All Dragons, was a wise and powerful ruler, but one with great pride. She rarely let transgressions to her people slide, and Geraldus declaring war on her dragons certainly fit that description.

Something else from the legends caught Elias’ notice. Some volumes mention the so-called ‘Curse of Stormwalker’. Those who killed a dragon, of whom are believed to be sacred and noble beings, were given a fate worse than death. They would be forced to relive each dragon death in their mind, except this time from the dragon’s perspective. Although they would be externally unconscious, their body would not waste away. It would remain almost in stasis, never aging or decaying. They would spend all of eternity in their nightmares.

Elias fears for Geraldus.

***

Elias crouches over Geraldus, quiet sobs wracking his body. His friend lies crumpled on the ground before him, faint tendrils of blue magic coursing through his veins that throb with each breath he takes. If it weren’t so terrifying, Elias would think it was beautiful.

“I should’ve done more. I could’ve done more.”

He looks up at the ceiling, stars spilling through the windows above and sparkling upon the black marble floor below. They fall like magical snowdrops, shattering upon the ground.

Geraldus had done it. He had either chased out or killed all dragons in Ioflar, in what became known as the Draconic Purge. Those with draconic ancestry were given hardly better options--they could either join Geraldus’ legion of Black Dragons in their efforts to eradicate dragonkind or they were executed. Families were torn apart over whether it was more honorable to die or turn on their own. Now Stormwalker’s curse takes its toll. As the last dragon fled from Ioflar, seemingly disappearing into thin air, Geraldus collapsed on the ground. As per the curse, Elias realized that he was reliving each dragon death.

Elias didn’t know much about the deities of Ioflar, or the deities of anywhere for that matter. He only knew of a handful, relying on them as one relies on a caring mother or father. He typically left restoration magic and the like to those with a mind for it, but in that moment he was taken back to a time long in the past. Geraldus was smiling down off a balcony at home, long before the city was reduced to rubble and ruin, softly smiling at the music wafting from a church service in the square below. A champion walked with head held high, basking in the awe and splendor of the waiting crowds. Candles and flowers floated through the air, silver petals drifting through the air in joy. A flame inlaid with silver rested above the church doors. Elias couldn’t remember what the tune was, but he remembered when Geraldus looked over at him. Elias had never seen his friend with such softness and peace.

“Elias, I want to join the Silver Flames.”

The church below them on that day was that of the Silver Flame, the deity of life, light, and war. The champion below was like a local celebrity, called to ‘carry the Silver Flame’s light forward’. One of the floating petals landed on young Geraldus’ nose, glimmering with what seemed to be candlelight, but what Geraldus became convinced was a token of the god’s favor. From that day forward, Geraldus and Elias became members under his mantle. Geraldus was the one who was overtly passionate about joining, but when Elias visited the acolytes with him, he found more peace than he expected and decided to reach out to the Silver Flame as well.

Now Geraldus lays in front of Elias, seemingly asleep but with his eyes clenched tightly shut. This is a nightmare that he would never wake from. Stormwalker’s curse is taking effect- Geraldus is tortured in his dreams by all the dragons he slew in the Draconic Purge. Elias turns to the Silver Flame once more.

“Your servant is suffering. What he did was wrong, but he is now in great pain. He did what he did out of pain, loss, and a duty to his family, whom he loved, and those he pledged his life to.” Elias pauses, taking a deep breath. What he says next, he has to mean. What he says next is the truth. 

“Take me instead,” Elias utters, one last tear rolling down his cheek. “I can’t see my friend in pain any longer. Take me.”

Watching his friend in pain is like hearing his family die all over again. The day the messenger arrived with the news that his family perished in the storm on their way to Ioflar, believed to be heading for life in the new land, was the worst day of his life. Every night, he dreamt about the screams of his daughter, the crying of his beloved. It felt like he had been skewered with a thousand whale hooks, except he had no idea how to remove a single one. They sat with him, piercing his heart and chest over and over again. Simultaneously, Elias feels like he is shoulder deep in tar--pushing, struggling, pressing at anything around him to stop from sinking. While all those around him move on, he is still, stuck in place.

But watching Geraldus in pain hurts Elias in a new way. Elias did not realize he had the capacity to be in any more pain. Seeing Geraldus crumpled at his knees, blue magic rippling through him, it feels like a hundred more whale hooks were added to what was already there from his family’s loss. Maybe it hurts so much because, despite everything that happened, despite all the things he had done and how Elias had stood by, Geraldus was Elias’ new family. Geraldus had always been Elias’ family, ever since they were boys and especially since they had journeyed to Ioflar. Now it felt like he lost his family all over again.

A third figure appears in the room with Geraldus and Elias, appearing from what seems to be a mote of dust. The air around the figure glimmers with silver light. Elias spreads his arms over his friend, leaning protectively over Geraldus.

“Be at ease, Elias. I do not come to cause either you or Geraldus harm,” the figure purrs.

Slowly, Elias sits up. “Who are you?”

“I am the Silver Flame,” the figure replies. Long, silken grey robes in gradually lightening shades flow around his arms and past his feet from where he floats a few inches off the ground, obscuring the details of his face. As if a slight wind were passing through the large room, the light edges of his robe that hang down sway slightly.

“What do you want?” Elias asks.

“I want to save your friend.”

Elias blinks. “Save Geraldus?”

“Yes.” The Silver Flame nods. “I want to save Geraldus.”