《The Dragon's Bard》


 Chapter 1

    The dragon''s cave was large, dark and unwelcoming. Despite appearing to Ildarg''s eyes nothing but naked rocks, he felt the presence of the large, terrible monster whenever, wherever he put his feet on. Any noise louder than a whisper could be his own end; trembling, he imagined the dragon''s nose already sniffing him, ready to protect its hoard...


    But he had no choice. This mission was his last hope. There, within the ocean that was the dragon''s hoard, was an object. An object that contained inside itself the power to...


    His foot hit a small stone, which rolled down to the dark, rocky path. Ildarg sweated coldly. He could not afford to let his thoughts flow. Praying that error wouldn''t be fatal, he continued.


    The corridor felt like it continued towards infinity. For the dragon, it had to be a quick walk, but for tinier creatures like Ildarg, its length was unbearable; more so if you were going straight to its lair as an intruder to steal from its hoard, which added an unbearable tension that made every moment last forever.


    One more step, he thought, then one more step, and then again one more step. He had nothing else in my mind. He was almost forgetting why he was doing it. All that mattered was continuing...


    Until a glimpse of a distant light, and the memories of his mission returned fully.


    Ildarg stopped walking immediately. He closed his eyes, focusing on his hearing. They said one could easily figure out if a dragon was sleeping, because when it did so, it produced a snore that made Earth tremble. And he needed the dragon to be sleeping. He listened for a while, desperate to catch a rumble, or anything that could resemble a snore.


    He managed to hear something. It took a while for a human ear to perceive, but afterwards, Ildarg couldn''t hear anything else. It was low, and at the same time loud; it was like if the cave itself was rumbling.


    A little more confident, Ildarg resumed walking slowly. The torch in his hand started becoming necessary; he turned it off and left it behind him, making sure the smoke wouldn''t go to his same direction.


    Finally, he entered into the light.


    The dragon was immense.


    There was no other way to describe it. It was utterly useless to find any fancy description, apart from its yellow color, or make any comparison to talk about its size: none of them could make justice to the creature he was now looking at. The dragon was immense, and there was nothing else he could say. Mostly because, he was incapable of focusing on words.


    The dragon''s head lay on one paw, its eyes closed. Puffs of air escaped from its jaws, while its belly, pressed against its own lair, extended and contracted itself in the act of breathing.


    Ildarg couldn''t help admiring the view. Even in the case that would be his last view, it was extraordinary. When hearing of dragons, there was always a part of him that felt a certain skepticism: there had to be a more down-to-earth explanation for those stories were dragons were involved. Something more within the human mindset''s range. Instead, here in front of him was the definitive proof.


    But he couldn''t lose too much time. The dragon could wake up at any moment. Just as before, he walked on tiptoes, trying not to look at the monster, but at the terrain. Soon, he could distinguish the single elements of what made the huge treasure it guarded.


    Books.


    Hundreds, no, probably thousands of books scattered all around. From the small libels a children could read to the bulky, heavy encyclopedias, this dragon seemed to have found them all. If Ildarg put a foot there, he would probably be swept up by an avalanche of knowledge.


    But where, he panicked quietly, was the book he needed?


    He had trained himself a lot for this mission. Not only had he practiced to use a bow, even though it had such a laughable chance to hurt a dragon it was almost comical, but he had also learned to read; unfortunately, though, the circumstances had forced him to stop prematurely, and so he could only read in uppercase. And there were tones of books whose letters in the covers were lowercase.


    Ildarg felt hopeless. There wasn''t enough time. He had something like one in a lifetime''s possibility to catch the right book, the one where was written the only thing that could make him do what he needed to.


    One chance. He could only take one book, maybe two, and then escape like a thunder, before the dragon would realize something from his hoard was missing. He moved one hand towards the biggest book below his feet...


    But there was something off.


    The snore had stopped.


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    Ildarg stopped moving. He was bowed down, his hand open in the act of grabbing the book. His back was beginning to hurt, but he didn''t dare make a move.


    Then he felt a rush of hot air upon him.


    A deep voice came to his ears.


    "What, do, we, have, here?"


    Caught. He knew he could now move freely again, because in any case he was sure he would meet perish where he stood. He gave himself the luxury of looking at the dragon in terror.


    "I...I..."


    "Human," the dragon rumbled, its cavernous voice like a thunder on the horizon, "you have one chance to explain yourself, before I do with I must."


    Now did Ildarg realized his preparation had neglected one important aspect, the one that could have actually saved him: how to keep calm. He had prepared himself some answers with some vague credibility to give it; now, in the face of certain death, he couldn''t recall one. He blacked out; his lips refused to move, and his mind wouldn''t be able to say what two and two was.


    "Speak now, or you''ll meet my jaws!"


    "I...I...I need to save my love!"


    The words had come out of his mouth without any intervention from his mind. Urged by the dragon''s command, he had vomited out the naked truth. He closed his eyes, waiting for the dragon''s next move, hoping he wouldn''t be in pain for too long.


    But instead, he heard something he didn''t expect.


    "What?" The dragon had just exclaimed.


    "What?" Ildarg said in return.


    "You don''t smell like someone who''s lying. Fear, plenty. But you don''t smell like a liar. If anything, you''re not a thief, so I may let you go unharmed."


    Ildarg looked at the dragon in awe. It could smell emotions!


    "I...am...not...lying..."


    "I know, that''s what I just said," the monster replied, with a glimpse of impatience in its voice. "Explain yourself. Who do you need to save? Who is ''my love''?"


    "It''s...it''s...my daughter," Ildarg managed to say, "she''s ill and the healer say she won''t survive more than one month. They told me the only possible cure is within a book in your hoard."


    The dragon looked at him with such intensity, he wondered if it could breathe fire from its eyes too.


    "A cure?" It pronounced with intensity. "In my hoard? Of course. You''re one of those."


    "One of...what?"


    "Human. I''m going to try to make you think for a moment. Maybe you''re going to be the first one who manages to do it. Let me ask you this question. Why do you think I hoard all these books?"


    "B...because they look good?"


    "Because of the information they contain!" The dragon roared. "The information contained within these books is too much for a weak, greedy species like yours to obtain. I have seen it myself."


    "What have you seen?"


    "Enough things to vow my life to keep you humans from knowledge!" The monster''s head abruptly got closer to Ildarg; the human, out of instinct, covered his head with his arms. "The most terrible weapons, my fellow dragon brothers falling from the sky like rain, whole seas drained, mountains eradicated! When humanity fell from grace, killed by its own technology, I swore that I would prevent you from knowing more than you deserve to!"


    "But...but...but my daughter''s dying!" Ildarg cried out.


    "You think that one human death will make me break my oath?" The dragon said cruelly. "One moment of weakness, and you''d get more, and then more, and then it will be the death of this land once again."


    "Please! I''ll do anything!"


    That seemed to catch the dragon''s attention. It retreated its enormous head a little.


    "What kind of anything?"


    "Just anything," Ildarg said in a weak tone.


    "Hmmm." The dragon seemed to be reflecting. The human had almost the temptation of grabbing one book and open it; however, fear blocked him from doing such a stupid action. Then he murmured: "What could I order this one to do this time?"


    Ildarg figured out it wasn''t the first time a human offered their services to the dragon to access those books. Its tail was moving sinuously, and its mouth made noises like chewing something. The human bit his tongue to avoid showing his discomfort hearing those sounds.


    "Tell me, human," the dragon finally said, "can you make music?"


    "Music?"


    "Yes, music!"


    "N-" He interrupted himself. Even though they had taught him since his childhood that saying the truth was always the road of the virtuous, that lying causes more troubles than the ones it avoids, something inside of him suggested it was not exactly true with dragons; at least, not in this situation.


    "...a bit."


    Then he remembered that dragon could smell lies.


    "You can''t," the dragon growled, "I should bite you instantly for lying to a dragon. But I want to have some fun, this last period has been so boring for me. So I''m going to assign you this musical task anyways!"


    "W...what do I need to..."


    "I want you," the dragon announced, solemnly, "to become my personal bard."

 Chapter 2

    ¡°B...bard?¡± Ildarg had the sensation he hadn¡¯t heard well. ¡°What do you-¡±


    ¡°Yes, bard!¡± The dragon roared. ¡°Those who wander from human settlement to human settlement and sing.¡±


    Ildarg felt a big, big knot in his stomach.


    He was a blacksmith! At no point in his life had he ever showed any whatsoever music talent. Once, during his younger years, he had tried to sing some of the bard songs he remembered, out of boredom; when he left home, there was a small crowd asking who was in agony. Plus, everyone knew bards were nutty slackers! Valueless youngsters who sang some useless, ancient story to beg for some spare change, instead of creating something concrete and tangible like blacksmiths. Ildarg couldn¡¯t reduce himself to become one of them!


    Unfortunately, he had a dragon in front of him, and a daughter to save. The fact the monster didn¡¯t want to kill him immediately was a success on its own.


    However, maybe he could still make questions¡­


    ¡°Why me? I can¡¯t sing!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to learn it.¡±


    ¡°How? With your books?¡±


    ¡°NEVER!¡± The dragon roared furiously, waving a claw so close to Ildarg he fell from trying to dodge it. ¡°That is not negotiable, human. None of the information I hoard will ever be available to any of you.¡±


    ¡°But I need to learn it-¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll do that yourself.¡±


    The knot in his stomach enlarged, almost making him puke.


    ¡°Mr dragon,¡± he said, praying he wouldn¡¯t be disrespectful by addressing it like that, ¡°I am sure I can find you a better bard to serve you...if I just get back to my village I could bring one that may be suited to your-¡±


    ¡°No. It has to be you. You found out this cave. I won¡¯t let any other human enter willingly.¡±


    Ildarg sighed. It was time to accept the truth.


    ¡°Plus,¡± the dragon added, ¡°I¡¯ve ¨C ahem ¨C neglected my research for a good bard to face my rival, so I don¡¯t have much choice.¡±


    ¡°Your...rival?¡±


    ¡°You have so much to learn, human. Sit down, for it¡¯s going to be a loooooong explanation.¡± While pronouncing the word ¡®long¡¯, the dragon made a large circle with its head while pronouncing the vowel. Ildarg sat down- ¡°NO! Not on the books!¡± Ildarg got up and descended down to where the naked rock was visible.


    ¡°Pay attention now, human. Here begins the story of Kirja, son of Kansi, from the Sivu mountains.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re a male?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare interrupt me! As I was saying, here begins my story. Kirja hatched in a time when the land was not contaminated by their folly. The Sivu mountains still stood high and fierce, the dragons were prosperous and the Earth flourished. But alas, a great threat was about to loom on the land¡­¡±


    Remembering Kirja¡¯s previous words, Ildarg suspected the great threat had something to do with humans. He almost opened his mouth to anticipate him, but his common sense shut it down.


    ¡°...which was the other dragons.¡±


    ¡°Uh?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I just tell you not to interrupt me?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do it on purpose this time, I swear!¡±


    Kirja released some clouds of smoke from his nostrils, in what looked dangerously like irritation. Ildarg bit his lips, to be sure not to pronounce anything.


    ¡°So, the Earth was threatened by other dragons, who decided to take a decision so terrible that it led us to the catastrophe. You see, Kirja was part of the Council of Dragons, which decided all the dragon debates that couldn¡¯t be decided through battling. His Council mates, one day, thought that humans deserved to be given what we had deemed dearest. They thought to share with humans our knowledge. Why, I asked? Why should we have given such a gift to irrelevant creatures like them? Because they planned to make them our servants. Teach them, they said, and they will learn the basics to make our lives better, without needing violent fights all the time, as humans would fight for us. Why them specifically? Because their intelligence was the closest to a dragon, they said: very little work would be required.¡±


    Ildarg had a vision of oceans of warriors going into battle and massacring each other for nothing else than some dragon¡¯s whims. He bit his lips harder, the metallic taste of blood pricking his tongue.


    ¡°At first, Kirja agreed.¡± the dragon continued his narration, ¡°it was pointless to argue, when the rest of the Council agreed so in unison. We took some thousands of humans, bred them and taught us our costumes and arts. Kirja himself, for a while, had his personal human population. But then the catastrophe happened. One day, we realized too late we should have put some limits. Our humans became too intelligent, too cultured, too independent. They began developing their tools, first to continue their work, then to take their independence from us.¡±


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    During all that, the human got surprised realizing he was listening to the dragon in fascination. Also, he was rooting for the humans. What was happening to him?


    ¡°Soon, for dragons the end began. The humans, smaller in size but bigger in numbers, overthrew their legitimate dragon owners. Kirja survived by mere chance, by hiding in an island in the middle of an ocean after being chased by his humans with their new weapons; most of his fellows succumbed. For one thousand years did Kirja hide himself in that solitary confinement, the most boring years of his life. Finally, when he realized that boredom was about to kill him, he returned to his homeland; but gasp! There was no more homeland. The humans had destroyed it. Forests, lakes, mountains...all wiped out. Nothing but dead land.¡±


    The dragon made a dramatic silence. Ildarg couldn¡¯t bite his lips any longer, and let out a ¡®gasp¡¯ from Kirja¡¯s amazing story. He expected to be scolded again, but the dragon, this time, let go.


    ¡°But Kirja didn¡¯t lose hope: that desolation gave him a new purpose in life. Roaring to the sky, he swore he would restore the ancient dragon civilization based on mutual conflict: it was conflict that guaranteed dragons wouldn¡¯t collaborate too much among themselves, so that their combined power wouldn¡¯t destroy their land, something that humans, foolishly, hadn¡¯t foreseen. For another thousand of years, Kirja flew to find dragon survivors with whom re-establish our ancient society and begin a sane, plentiful bloody rivalry!¡±


    Ildarg wasn¡¯t sure he heard well. A sane, plentiful rivalry? What did that mean?


    ¡°Eventually, he found one worthy of him: Boken, daughter of Slag, from the Sida lowlands. Proud and strong just like him, only with blue scales unlike Kirja¡¯s yellow ones. As both met, instant understanding flourished between them, and both agreed to keep humans away from the knowledge that had led them to causing that catastrophe, since they were incapable of managing it correctly. Their rivalry, they conclude, would be based on gathering as many books as they could, and race to see who had the biggest hoard! Except for a short respite of one century when they mated to regenerate the dragon race.¡±


    Now in the human¡¯s mind was more the confusion than the fascination.


    ¡°So have the years passed, and the two dragons, best enemies forever, have fought for the control of the land around our lairs, to keep the human population at a reasonable level, prevent them from developing a mindset again and getting as much books as possible. Once every hundred of years, though, they fiercely battle for their supremacy. But no more with physical fights, for every remaining elder dragon is too precious. Instead, we let that do it to some humans! Bards, for the precision. Why them? So we don¡¯t teach them how to fight for real.¡±


    The dragon inhaled deeply. ¡°And that concludes Kirja¡¯s story. Now, human, I suppose, since you found me, that you belong to the piece of land under my control.¡±


    Ildarg nodded. Everyone knew the dragon existed, few talked about him. Not all generations got to see him, for he appeared only to redeem the tribute in books he demanded; if they didn¡¯t, there would be ¡®terrible, terrible consequences¡¯, as his village¡¯s priest always repeated. Ildarg always thought with regret at all the money he had to give away to buy books for the dragon¡¯s hoard.


    ¡°What do you know instead about my enemy?¡± Kirja demanded.


    ¡°Ergh, nothing. We¡¯ve always been under your command.¡±


    ¡°Lucky you! My rival is not as benevolent as me. If you had penetrated into her lair, right now you¡¯d be just a mass of carbon. I can forgive a village if they can¡¯t give me books once, unlike her. But at our last fight, despite my offer being clearly superior, her bard defeated mine by a landslide!¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Ildarg asked.


    The dragon snorted. ¡°She demands a higher book tribute, but less frequently. 300 volumes every 15 years, while I ask for 100 every 5. Her bard was just better with words so they all believed her conditions were more advantageous. I lost so many historical regions that day!¡±


    ¡°And so, what you want me to sing about is¡­¡±


    ¡°Is about how better my conditions are.¡±


    ¡°Like, the kind of things merchants do?¡± He opened his hand and put it next to his mouth. ¡°Gems, gems! The rarest and precious of all! Make your spouse more beautiful with a ruby on her" hair! Only three hundred gold for tod-¡±


    Kirja roared at him so close to Ildarg, he fell down from the stream of air.


    ¡°Do not,¡± the dragon barked, ¡°ever do it like that.¡±


    ¡°How, then?¡±


    ¡°Like a bard, remember? Singing.¡±


    ¡°But I told you already, I can¡¯t s-oh, never mind. I will do it. If you cure my child when it¡¯s done.¡±


    The dragon seemed to reflect for a moment: he looked at Ildarg in silence for a long time, making a strange, low sound that seemed to come from between his jaws. Then he pronounced:


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°T...thank you.¡±


    ¡°Now,¡± Kirja continued, ¡°you¡¯ll need a little more facts to prove I am much better than Boken. First of all, as I said, my condition are way better. Second, I began hoarding books before her, and this puts me in a position of seniority, not mentioning I am a former member of the defunct Dragon Council. Third, my hoard includes exclusives impossible to find anywhere else, like Historia Draconum Occidentalum, The Salmon Poem and the book every other dragon wishes they had, Spyro x Reader Dragon V-¡±


    ¡°When is this final battle?¡± Ildarg asked.


    The dragon looked at him with a very offended look.


    ¡°If you hadn¡¯t just become my personal bard, I wouldn¡¯t tolerate these interruptions. However, I haven¡¯t done you that information, so at least you have reminded me. It¡¯s going to be in the village of Lavidar, in seven days.


    ¡°Seven days?¡± The human shouted. ¡°I can¡¯t learn to sing in seven days!¡±


    ¡°Then find something very good to make you learn it! Because if you lose, I won¡¯t fulfill my promise of healing your offspring.¡±


    Ildarg swallowed all the saliva he had inside his mouth.

 Chapter 3

    In a hut located in a village far away from the dragon¡¯s lair, a woman held an infant child between her arms, gently cradling her while singing a lullaby.


    Down in the valley, valley so low


    Hang your head over, hear the wind blow


    Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow


    Hang your head over, hear the wind blow¡­


    The baby replied with a series of harsh coughs.


    From the woman¡¯s left eye came out a tear. It had become a habit for her. The village¡¯s healer had succeeded in slowing down the baby¡¯s sickness, but he had told her and her husband she would survive only until the next winter. It was autumn now, and the end was near.


    Unless¡­


    Unless, the healer told them, they got a certain book. It was said to contain all the most portentous cures to any sickness. There was a problem though: all books were under dragons¡¯ ownership. The healer didn¡¯t even need to specify that: everyone, in the village, had to work hard to bring books to the dragon that ruled over their land, and whoever dared to open them, received their punishment. With the dragon¡¯s ability to smell lies, nobody would dare do it, or even learn how to read and write.


    But the baby¡¯s father, Ildarg, didn¡¯t want to hear it. ¡°I¡¯m not going to accept this. I¡¯m going to travel to the dragon¡¯s lair!¡± He had proclaimed that same evening. She tried to dissuade him the best she could, and they argued the whole night, to no avail: the next day, when she woke up, her husband and his backpack were missing.


    Three months had passed since then, and she had lived with anxiety every day. There was no way to get any news of Ildarg, and her only child was about to die. At twenty years, she was about to become a childless widow. The only thing that relieved those feelings was their baby herself: singing lullabies was an excellent distraction.


    Roses love sunshine, violets love dew


    Angels in heaven know I love you


    Know I love you, dear, know I love you


    Angels in heaven, know I love you.


    The door knocked.


    Her heart immediately beat fast. Not as fast as the first times since her husband left: she had gotten used to that feeling, hoping to have her husband to the door and instead getting a neighbor of theirs asking for some wood for the fireplace.


    She opened the door.


    ¡°Silvane,¡± a man exclaimed. It was Ildarg.


    Silvane almost made their baby fall to the ground.


    ¡°Ildarg¡­¡± she said feebly.


    He didn¡¯t answer, but he opened his arms. The two spouses hugged each other for who knows how long, as tight as they could, wanting to feel their contact after so much time. Then Ildarg affectionately kissed their baby on the front. ¡°Elise. How much have I missed you.¡±


    The baby laughed happily at her father before another cough attack hit her.


    ¡°Do you have the cure?¡± Silvane asked Ildarg with apprehension. He made a very forced smile.


    ¡°Well, about that...I have good and bad news. The good news is the dragon may let me have access to the book.¡±


    ¡°And the bad news¡­?¡±


    ¡°I have to become his bard and win a singing battle to get it.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Ildarg explained her everything. When he finished, Silvane¡¯s face managed to express an amazing variety of different emotions at the same time: confusion, hope, worry.


    ¡°You have to admit,¡± Ildrg said, ¡°this outcome is much, much better than what we expected.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Silvane agreed, ¡°but you¡¯re a blacksmith! Remember when you tried to sing a lullaby to Elise?¡±


    ¡°How could I forget?¡± He said. Elise had cried so loud, and stopped only when Silvane sang a lullaby for her. It was quite a humiliating experience. ¡°But I¡¯m sure if I find someone who teaches me a pair of things-¡±


    ¡°In seven days!¡± She cried. ¡°There¡¯s not enough time.¡±


    Ildarg sighed. ¡°I know...I know. But it¡¯s our only chance to save Elise. Tonight I¡¯ll go to the Staggered Mare and find someone to help me. I promise, Silvane, I¡¯ll find a way.¡±


    * * *


    The Staggered Mare was the village¡¯s inn, whose sign showed a picture of a horse head with its mouth and eyes opened wide in a surprised expression. Ildarg had to admit he had been in larger, cleaner inns while traveling to the dragon¡¯s lair: however, that place was a welcome sign after so many months. As he pulled the heavy wooden door, he was greeted by many familiar voices, which however had more intentions than just being friendly.


    ¡°Hey, look who¡¯s there!¡±


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    ¡°Ildarg! How long has it been?¡±


    ¡°I just needed you! I need a new pitchfork for my barn¡­¡±


    ¡°My hammer¡¯s broken!¡±


    ¡°My daughter is about to get married and we need a new set of cutlery for the bride price¡­¡±


    Ildarg sighed. Sometimes he had wondered if in that village he had real friends. He straightforward ignored them.


    ¡°Ildarg, wait! I asked you something!¡±


    He went directly to the counter, where an old man with an enormous belly was washing a mug with a rag. It was the inn¡¯s owner, the only one with whom Ildarg had some kind of relationship which was not strictly linked to his job, apart from his family.


    ¡°Hi, Bolarg.¡±


    ¡°Ildarg!¡± Bolarg gave him a strong pat on his shoulder that almost made him fall. ¡°I prayed every day you¡¯d come back alive. How was the dragon? Did you meet him?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I did...however, before talking about the dragon, I need to ask you something.¡±


    ¡°Anything!¡±


    ¡°Is there some bard coming here tonight? I need to find one urgently.¡±


    Bolarg raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a long story,¡± Ildarg cut out, ¡°I just need one. Anyone.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± the big man scratched his head with his big hand ¡°bards come and go. They¡¯re very good for my business, sure, but I have no way to know whether one¡¯s coming or not. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Ildarg lowered down his head, in discomfort. ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°Are you getting something to drink?¡±


    ¡°Just a small beer.¡±


    ¡°Immediately.¡±


    For a long time, Ildarg sat alone on a table at the most distant corner from the others, ignoring their requests for a new metal tool. He¡¯d think about those when this bard affair would be over. His eyes stared at the entrance all the time, desperately waiting for someone with a lute on their back to enter.


    He drank only small sips of beer once in a while, and only to have something to do. He drew a gasp whenever the entrance opened up, but it was always just another villager, who would readily get close to him to welcome him back. Ildarg could only make out some very forced greeting and make some excuses to avoid talking about dragon.


    Then, when his mug was half emptied, entered in the inn a young man with very striking clothes. Ildarg held a giggle. His robes were black on the left side and scarlet on the other; his pants followed the same pattern. He had a green cloak with a decoration of nightingales, and a green hat shaped like a cylinder.


    However, another more important detail caught Ildarg¡¯s eyes: the lute that was mounted on his back.


    ¡°Greetings, villagers. My name is Rikastil and I will gladden your evening with my music.¡±


    Ildarg didn¡¯t lose any time. He got up like a fury, and as he ran towards the newcomer, he heard a noise of broken ceramic.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Bolarg protested loudly. ¡°I have to wait until merchants visit this place to replace it!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pay it for you!¡± Ildarg barked. He basically took the bard by his robes. ¡°Sir! I need your help!¡±


    The bard¡¯s eyes were surprised, but not shocked.


    ¡°What can I do for you, gentleman?¡±


    ¡°Sir, I need to learn how to sing and play music in seven days.¡±


    Now his eyes definitely expressed shock.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious!¡±


    Ildarg didn¡¯t even care that the whole inn was looking at him. It was now or never.


    ¡°Sir, could we discuss about it after I sing my songs? I¡¯m not here for my own pleasure-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pay you,¡± Ildarg exclaimed. ¡°I¡¯m a blacksmith, I have enough money. I can¡¯t explain everything short, but I swear, I¡¯ll pay you as much as I can!¡±


    ¡°Hmmm,¡± the bard sounded interested. ¡°And how much will you pay me?¡±


    Ildarg told him the whole amount of gold he had. The bard¡¯s eyes opened up.


    ¡°You have all that much? Folks,¡± he turned his head to the other visitors, ¡°is this gentleman saying the truth?¡±


    None of the men answered. They just stared at Ildarg with astonished expressions. Bolarg himself had another mug and a rag, but wasn¡¯t moving them at all.


    ¡°That dragon must have had a funny effect on his head,¡± someone on the table whispered loudly.


    The bard, clearly, wasn¡¯t satisfied with the answer. ¡°Sir, I must ask you to let me go.¡±


    Defeated, Ildarg released his hand from the bard¡¯s clothes. He opened the door towards the outside world, walking on the muddy path under the stars with death in his heart, trying to find an alternative plan¡­


    His workshop.


    The place where he hid his money from thieves.


    Ildarg began to run. He had to do it as fast as he could, before the bard would depart again. He almost slammed his house¡¯s door.


    ¡°Silvane! The money I kept on the workshop...is it still there?¡±


    His wife didn¡¯t answer. She was sitting down on a footstool, with their baby on her arms. Her head lay on the wall, snoring. She had to have fallen asleep.


    ¡°Silvane!¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± She abruptly woke up. ¡°Ildarg¡­?¡±


    ¡°The money I kept on the workshop! Is it still there?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I kept it safe while you were out-what do you want to¡­?¡±


    ¡°I need the key!¡±


    ¡°What do¡­¡±


    ¡°Just give me the key, please!¡±


    Hesitantly, Silvane got up and put Elise on their bed. From one of the shelves she took a bunch of keys and gave it to Ildarg.


    ¡°Could you tell me what¡­?¡±


    ¡°Later!¡± Without even saying her good night, he exited their house, directed at his workshop, located behind it. He still hadn¡¯t gotten in since his return. However, after he turned the key, he didn¡¯t lose time in contemplation and went directly at a shelf on the back of the main room.


    He knew what to do. He moved the shelf away from its position, revealing a square-shaped part of the wooden pavement that was slightly higher than the others. On a first sight, nobody could realize it. Ildarg opened it with another key, and his secret vault opened up, full of golden coins: the fruit of a year of working as a blacksmith.


    Ildarg gathered it all up and with the speed of a dragon in flight he exited, directed towards the inn again. To his joy, he could hear the sound of a lute coming from inside, accompanied by a melodious voice.


    ¡°There once was a lady from Strawberry Hollow / She didn¡¯t talk too much but boy, did s-YOU AGAIN?¡±


    He had just seen Ildarg getting into the inn. Bolarg was covering his face with one hand.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ildarg answered, panting, ¡°and I got something for you.¡±


    He took out his bag and opened it out, to show the shining golden content. The bard¡¯s expression quickly passed from angered to perplexed to finally the look of someone who sees all his dreams come true.


    ¡°You...you weren¡¯t lying¡­?¡±


    ¡°No. Usually how much does it take for you to beg all this money?¡±


    The bard didn¡¯t answer. However, he began walking towards Ildarg.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he pronounced, ¡°it¡¯s a deal. But you got to pay me right here and right now.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Ildarg commented and he just gave him his bag. ¡°Are you ready to begin tomorrow morning?¡±


    ¡°Y...yes, sir.¡± The bard held the bag full of money like a child holds his favorite stuffed animal.


    ¡°You can sleep in my place for this week. I and my wife will take care of the rest. Tomorrow I¡¯ll explain you everything. Now, you were still singing, right¡­? You can finish up.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s...it¡¯s no more necessary, sir.¡± He looked at the other people in the inn. ¡°Excuse me.¡±

 Chapter 4

    Ildarg was in the village main square, surrounded by a large crowd which included two dragons: one of them, lying behind him, on the ground was Kirja. In front of the blacksmith was a bard with a ridiculous green costume, a comic handlebar mustache and a long, silver flute. His wife was among the crowd, holding their daughter on her hands and looking at him with a terrified look. Ildarg tried to shout at them some reassurance, but as his mouth opened up, a man in the middle, waving a giant flag with a ramping yellow dragon, shouted up.


    ¡°May the bard battle begin!¡±


    Ildarg looked at his hands: he had a flute too. However, it wasn¡¯t made of silver like his rival¡¯s, but roughly made from a tree branch. Kirja¡¯s head stared just above him, and his eyes promised a harsh punishment in case his bard didn¡¯t satisfy him.


    The blacksmith put the flute on his lips and blew. From the instrument came up a screeching, acute noise, like ten thousands handsaws working in unison. The people surrounding him booed like one man, putting their fingers on their ears. Silvane burst into tears, crying ¡°Our daughter is going to die!¡± while Elise accompanied her lament. The dragon above him roared loudly, opening up his mouth and descending onto him¡­


    ¡°NO PLEASE, HAVE MERCY!¡±


    Ildarg got up from his bed. His skin was all covered in sweat, and he was shaking uncontrollably. His breath was very short. From the other side of their house, Elise began crying out loud.


    ¡°Honey, what happened?¡±


    Silvane had just stopped sleeping too.


    ¡°Nothing, nothing...just a nightmare.¡±


    Ildarg almost felt like vomiting: he made his way outside the bed crawling on the mattress, too weak to get up fully¡­


    ¡°OUCH!¡±


    He had just hit someone else in the dark. In his rude awakening, it had completely gotten out of his head: the bard was sleeping next to him, on his same bed.


    ¡°S...sorry¡­¡± he barely managed to say. ¡°Could you...please...turn up the candle?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± answered Rikastil.


    When the light filled the room up, the bard got up to let him fall down and lie supine on the floor, waiting for the stomach ache to calm down.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I woke you all up,¡± Ildarg whispered.


    ¡°Honey, you don¡¯t need to excuse yourself,¡± Silvane answered while caressing Elise. ¡°Besides,¡± she opened the door and a ray of light hit Ildarg¡¯s eyes, ¡°it¡¯s early morning. We were about to wake up soon in any case.¡±


    * * *


    Ildarg¡¯s discomfort passed quicker than he feared. Once the sun outside fully rose above the village, he was standing up, ready to learn how to make music. Rikastil was playing his flute for Elise¡¯s amusement; Ildarg felt a strange wave of jealousy looking at that scene. ¡°Sir, I¡¯m ready to begin when you want,¡± he announced.


    ¡°I just need to finish this melody and I¡¯ll be there.¡± He continued playing his flute until the music concluded with a very long and acute note. Ildarg scratched his right thigh out of a light impatience.


    Finally, the bard approached him.


    ¡°So,¡± Rikastil began, ¡°what do you need to learn?¡±


    ¡°I need to learn how to perform one song good enough to win a bard contest and get access to a book hoarded by a dragon to cure my daughter from her mortal disease.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what?¡±


    Ildarg sighed. It was quite the tale, he had to admit it. Taking a deep breath, he narrated his journey from the very beginning. When he was done, the bard¡¯s face was between admiration and disbelief.


    ¡°You know, this is one of the most interesting stories I¡¯ve ever heard,¡± Rikastil proclaimed, ¡°should make a song out of it before or after. But seven days, including today? You¡¯re going to face some bard that has done this job since their childhood. You have no chance.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± Ildarg implored him, ¡°it¡¯s my only hope.¡±


    Just behind them, Elise coughed strong and clear.


    ¡°Besides, I paid you,¡± the blacksmith added.


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Rikastil commented, shrugging his shoulders. ¡°So, do you know any song you can sing to me? Just to see your level.¡±


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    ¡°Ergh¡­¡± He knew what was about to come, and didn¡¯t want to scare his baby another time. ¡°Can we do it outside our home?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s just that, you know, I did it once and...well¡­¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re in a hurry, we can¡¯t spend the morning looking for a place where to practice. Just sing something.¡±


    ¡°Fine then¡­¡± Here it came. Ildarg sang one of the lullabies Silvane often hummed to Elise. At least, singing was what he meant to do, because the sound that came out of his mouth was more similar to anything else. Readily, Elise cried her lungs loud and clear: Silvane took her on her arms. ¡°I think we¡¯ll stay outside while you two do your stuff,¡± she announced, and exited the house.


    Ildarg tried to smile, but his muscles didn¡¯t answer his commands.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Rikastil commented ¡°it¡¯s going to be an interesting task.¡±


    ¡°You were right,¡± Ildarg said depressed. ¡°I have no chance.¡±


    ¡°You paid me, so I have to do something. We¡¯ll begin with the most basic singing exercise. Then I¡¯ll teach you how to play a flute. I suppose you¡¯ve never played one, right?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°I imagined it. Anyway, singing. The most important part is how to breathe. You¡¯ll need to make a long breath, and when you do it, imagine you breathe with your stomach. Like this.¡±


    That breathing exercise continued for half of the morning. Next came some actual singing. Ildarg, paradoxically, felt like lacking air despite breathing so intensely.


    ¡°Good, you¡¯re starting to figure out the correct breathing technique,¡± Rikastil commented, ¡°now let¡¯s warm up our voice. Sing what I sing.¡±


    He made a sequence of Mi, Mi, Mi, Mi, Mi with his mouth, which Ildarg imitated. Somehow, he felt like those notes were possible to be sung even within his capacities. But as the bard continued, the notes increased in their pitch, and Ildarg¡¯s throat began to hurt. In the end, he almost felt like he could spit out his uvula.


    ¡°I need water¡­¡±


    ¡°Sure. Anyway, your voice is now warmed up. Next, I¡¯ll teach you your first song, to make practice.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°If we take a breath now, we¡¯ll have to repeat the exercises.¡±


    ¡°I...I see.¡±


    His stomach was growling. He hoped he wouldn¡¯t be too distracted by the call of his stomach, already unwell from that strange breathing technique.


    ¡°So, I¡¯ll make you sing a bard classic. One of the first songs we learn when we attend academies: I Am Never Going To Abandon Thee. You know it, I presume?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­¡±


    ¡°Just follow me.¡±


    And he began singing.


    To ye blessing of love strangers we¡¯re not


    Of this feeling both of us the rules know


    Verily, a full commitment¡¯s my sole thought


    From none of other lads thou¡¯ll get this love.


    My sole desire is to sing thee my feels


    Until one day understand I make thee.


    Ildarg¡¯s singing performance was not much better than before, but if anything, this time Elise was outside with Silvane, so he could be out of tune as much as he wanted.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why, but I feel like I¡¯m being made fun of.¡±


    ¡°Hm, how?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It must be the song.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a classic. I¡¯m sure you listened to it a lot of times, even accidentally.¡± Rikastil paused. ¡°Anyway, this time you managed to catch a pair of notes correctly.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes! We¡¯ll have to continue exercising. Then we can move on to the flute.¡±


    The bard made him repeat the song an uncountable amount of times, until he proclaimed he had caught the majority of notes. In the end, Ildarg abandoned himself to his bed, exhausted.


    ¡°Can we take a break now?¡±


    ¡°Now we can.¡±


    The blacksmith let his eyes close, letting himself not think of anything for a while. He really needed it; in fact, he had needed it quite often in recent times. Those few moments he managed to it, it felt so wonderful. It would be a blessing, to be permanently in that state of indefinite nothingness, alive yet unaware¡­


    ¡°Here is the flute you¡¯ll be using.¡±


    Ildarg re-opened his eyes. In front of him, Rikastil was holding two flutes; one was made of silver, the other was made of rosewood. However, it wasn¡¯t roughly made like the one in his nightmare: in fact, it was an exquisite craftsmanship.


    He got up, and grabbed the wooden instrument.


    ¡°First, the notes,¡± Rikastil began, ¡°there are seven main notes in total: Ut, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La and Sa. There are also some extra notes that stand in the beginning, but I¡¯ll keep things simple. Here is the Ut,¡± and he pressed one finger over the farthest hole of his flute, ¡°then the Re,¡± and he put one more finger over the hole immediately above, ¡°and so on. Now try with your flute. Put your fingers as I did, then blow on the tip.¡±


    Ildarg put the tip of the flute on his lips. For a short moment, as he put his finger above the first hole, he feared it would make a noise as horrible as the one made by the flute in his nightmare. To his astonishment, instead, it produced a single, clean note.


    ¡°W...wow¡­¡±


    ¡°Well done! Now do the others.¡±


    With a bit of uncertainty, he pressed more and more fingers, and the sound coming out of the flute increased its pitch, but was always the same perfect sound. For someone like him, who had no artistic talent whatsoever, it was already a great achievement.


    ¡°Now that you¡¯ve grabbed the basic notes,¡± Rikastil announced, ¡°let¡¯s try some very basic tunes. Remember the song you sang?¡±


    ¡°How could I? We sang it so many times it¡¯s all in my head already.¡±


    ¡°Then look at how my fingers move while I play it. It¡¯s going to be a simplified version, but the important thing is you practice.¡±


    Ildarg suspected he would end up hating that song. Hearing the same melody over and over was not pleasant, even if it was the best melody in the world. ¡°It¡¯s a common feeling among freshmen in bard academies,¡± Rikastil informed him. ¡°A lot of my classmates used to complain because they wanted to play cooler, harder songs.¡±


    At that moment, the door opened. It was Silvane, with Elise on her arms. The sky outside was turning red. They had spent the whole day practicing!


    ¡°How is it going?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I¡­¡± He had just blown into the flute so long he didn¡¯t have any air left. His head was aching badly. His stomach was protesting loudly, adding itself to the song¡¯s arrangement.


    ¡°Not bad, ma¡¯am!¡± Rikastil announced proudly. ¡°Your husband learns quicker than I thought.¡± While he said that, Ildarg¡¯s face was rapidly becoming yellow.


    ¡°You think...you think he can do it in seven days?¡±


    ¡°Hard to say,¡± the bard admitted, ¡°but we could find some simple melody he could play. I¡¯ll try to write something tonight.¡± Ildarg was staggering. ¡°Good job, sir! Tomorrow we¡¯ll continue the same exercises, and hopefully I¡¯ll have a song you can play for that dragon of yours.¡±


    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± Ildarg managed to say before fainting on the bad. His stomach exploded in a triumph of roars as his back touched the mattress.

 Chapter 5

    After three days, Ildarg was almost inclined to believe that was his normal routine. Not forging forks, knives or other metal instruments for peasants, but moving his fingers around some long steel strings attached to a wooden instrument, while torturing his throat to make it sing at least one correct note.


    Rikastil had taken the duty of writing a song he could sing in the final battle. When he announced it first, Ildarg couldn¡¯t help ask him how many songs he had written, and the answer had further sank his hopes: ¡°Well, this is my second one.¡± Two days later, he announced the song was ready. As Ildarg practiced inside his house, he felt incredibly stupid. Thank goodness, Silvane had taken the habit of spending the day outside with Elise.


    I cannot sing very well,


    but my heart is true and pure,


    so today my throat proclaims,


    mighty Kirja, I love you!


    Your benevolence¡¯s so touching,


    your conditions are so good.


    Hundred books every five years,


    and you don¡¯t take us as food!


    ¡°Uh,¡± Ildarg stopped his performance, coughing a bit for the effort, ¡°do I really have to say I can¡¯t sing?¡±


    ¡°Does it hurt you?¡±


    ¡°Hem,¡± he hesitated, ¡°after three days, I hoped¡­¡±


    ¡°I thought we could try to soften the audience,¡± Rikastil explained, ¡°as long as you reach a minimum technique, the important thing is you sing with your heart. Back in the academy, the classmates of mine who got the highest grades weren¡¯t necessarily the most virtuous.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t love that dragon! Who loves dragons?¡±


    ¡°Bard trick: when you sing about love, think of someone you actually love. You just need to replace their name with the one you have to sing about. In your mind.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    He repeated the song again, and at the same time he tried to think intensely of his daughter, with the result that before the eighth verse, he began crying while singing, distressed by that impossible challenge he had to endure to save her life. Strangely, this thrilled the bard.


    ¡°Excellent!¡± he shouted, clapping his hands. ¡°That¡¯s just what I meant! You¡¯ll touch everyone¡¯s hearts!¡±


    Ildarg took a moment to wipe some tears and then answered. ¡°I...I am glad¡­¡±


    ¡°One more!¡± Rikastil exclaimed. ¡°Then tonight we¡¯ll find a tavern to practice.¡±


    The blacksmith stopped crying. ¡°Wait...tavern? You mean¡­¡±


    ¡°There are three things a bard has to know: singing, playing an instrument and being confident in front of an audience. It¡¯s time we practice the third one.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t sing in this village¡¯s tavern! Everyone knows me!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry! I¡¯ll bring you to that other village north of here. Nobody knows you there, right?¡±


    ¡°Hem, I might have sold a pair of items to folks there, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s get a move, we have a path to walk later.¡±


    Ildarg couldn¡¯t find a way to debate his teacher. ¡°Fine.¡±


    ***


    The village in the north didn¡¯t look much different from Ildarg¡¯s; to be fair, all villages looked a bit the same, from what he had seen in his life. The local inn had a bear lying next to a big beer mug, illuminated by a torch above, which shone in that moonless night. Ildarg had never felt so uneasy, not even when meeting the dragon: he was wearing the bard¡¯s clothes, while Rikastil in turn was dressed with the blacksmith¡¯s clothes. The plan was to make the latter look like a normal client, and Ildarg an authentic bard. That ridiculous green suite he was wearing wasn¡¯t helping him be relaxed.


    ¡°The Drunken Bear,¡± Rikastil announced, showing the building with his hand, ¡°best beer in the whole county!¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t be better than Bolarg¡¯s,¡± Ildarg replied, a bit eager to defend his town¡¯s pride, ¡°he¡¯s the best innkeeper¡¯s one could have.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, you¡¯ll discover a new world when you taste a pint here. I have visited hundreds of taverns, so I know what I¡¯m saying. Anyway, that doesn¡¯t matter, because you¡¯re not going to take orders tonight. Are you ready?¡±


    ¡°Ergh¡­¡±


    ¡°You remember how to introduce you?¡±


    ¡°Heh! How many times have I seen you bards enter the middle of the night and say Greetings, villagers, tonight I will delight you with my singing¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright, you do. I¡¯ll enter first, and you¡¯ll follow me shortly after.¡±


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    Rikastil turned to the building and opened the door. Ildarg repeated to himself the song he was supposed to sing, to let some time pass. He got a bit calmer: he could recite all the words. But once he crossed the space between him and the door, and then entered the local, nervousness began prevailing.


    ¡°G...greetings, I...I am Illllllll-¡± He had just found Rikastil sitting on the farthest table. His look was enough to remember something else. He was supposed to use a fantasy name for precaution. ¡°...I mean, I am Illoren and I¡¯ll be your...ahem, bard.¡±


    Someone in the crowd laughed. If anything, none of those faces looked familiar. But that didn¡¯t make them less intimidating: on the contrary, they began mocking him.


    ¡°Make us sing, green rookie!¡± One said, with a huge mug on his hand. Everyone else laughed more.


    From the distance, Rikastil moved his hand to mimic a lute, looking at him. Ildarg took the actual lute from his back and played the first chord. The wrong one.


    ¡°I cannot sing v...very well...but my heart is t...true and...aaaarrrggghhh!¡±


    He had just managed to play the right chord. His hands rushed to play the second one, and as a result, the lute played a noise more akin to glass being washed.


    ¡°So today my mouth...ergh, my throat proclaims...ergh...ergh...¡±


    He couldn¡¯t remember the words coming next. Ildarg began panicking. The inn¡¯s customers were laughing louder. Rikastil, on his table, looked at him with no expression in particular. He should have thought of Elise, so he could touch his audience more. But the thought of her dying daughter only worsened his agitation.


    ¡°Hem, sorry, I¡¯ll do it again...so...I cannot sing very well¡­I cannot...¡±


    ¡°We noticed that!¡±


    The whole inn laughed.


    He had managed to play the first two chords right. Now he only needed to remember the third...his hands moved erratically...why couldn¡¯t he do it? He had played it decently just that day!


    When he found the right chord, something hit his hand. Ildarg smelled something very awful, and a slimy sensation pervaded him. His hand was now covered by something that looked like rotten cabbage.


    Hit by disgust, he let the lute fall down. As it hit the floor, it played a very dissonant sound. Not only was the whole crowd laughing and booing at him, but more rotten food was coming at him. Ildarg did the only logical thing: exit, leaving the lute behind, abandoned. ¡°Ildarg!¡± He heard the bard calling him, but he didn¡¯t listen.


    Once out, Ildarg looked around himself. He had nowhere to rest. It was late night, too dangerous to travel back home. But he didn¡¯t dare get back to the inn and ask for a room, not with so many people menacing to throw things to him. The awful shame of his terrible performance finally hit him like a train. He sat on the ground, his head hidden between the arms covered with rotten food.


    ¡°Hey, Ildarg.¡±


    Rikastil was standing behind him, touching his shoulder in discomfort. Ildarg did not turn his head.


    ¡°Definitely, I didn¡¯t soften anyone,¡± the blacksmith commented, gloomy.


    ¡°No, indeed.¡±


    Ildarg retracted within his arms further.


    ¡°Listen,¡± the bard continued, ¡°you don¡¯t have to worry too much. It is perfectly normal to not perform well the first time. Mine was not better either. You only need to acquire confidence and with time you¡¯ll be no more awed by cr-¡±


    ¡°I have that damn bard battle in three days!¡± Ildarg cried, raising his head towards him. He had taken the lute back.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Rikastil exclaimed, ¡°right.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t do it. I¡¯ll have to travel to another village, which is one day by walking. It¡¯s too late.¡±


    ¡°But you must save your daughter!¡± The bard replied. ¡°It¡¯s your only chance, didn¡¯t you say so?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too little of a chance!¡± Ildarg cried. ¡°I¡¯ll have to get back to that dragon and tell him the situation.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be like that!¡± Rikastil shouted. Ildarg felt his shoulder being scrolled. ¡°You have learned a lot in these days, it¡¯s just a matter of calmness!¡±


    ¡°Rikastil, how can I be calm when I have to face a crowd bigger than tonight¡¯s, and if I fail I get a dead daughter?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡±


    They stood in silence. From the inn, someone shouted something, but they didn¡¯t pay any attention.


    ¡°You can keep my money,¡± Ildarg said, ¡°thank you for your service. Tomorrow I¡¯ll go back to that dragon¡¯s cave.¡±


    ¡°And what shall you do?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll bargain for a different solution.¡± He paused. ¡°I¡¯m going there alone. Don¡¯t ask me to take you too.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t come anyway. I need to be in Lavidar in two days.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. Then I think we can say goodbye, and thank you for-wait, did you say Lavidar?¡± He got up and turned to the bard.


    ¡°Yes, why?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s where the battle is going to be.¡±


    ¡°Ah, hem¡­¡± the bard scratched his hand. ¡°Yes¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me. It¡¯s what I¡¯m thinking of, right?¡±


    ¡°Ergh¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to battle you?¡±


    Rikastil lowered his head, defeated.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡± Ildarg shouted.


    ¡°You...you offered me so much money,¡± he admitted, ¡°I make that amount in a year. I couldn¡¯t miss that occasion.¡±


    ¡°And you tried to sabotage me, right? You wrote that stupid song on purpose!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± The bard replied, indignant. ¡°I swear, Ildarg! I tried to come up with a song you could perform! It doesn¡¯t matter how good it is, if you sing it well!¡±


    But Ildarg didn¡¯t want to hear anything else from him.


    ¡°Give me my clothes back,¡± he said coldly. ¡°I have enough of this idiotic costume.¡±


    ¡°But we¡¯re outside, it¡¯s cold, someone will see us-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡±


    Rikastil sighed. ¡°Fine, then. Let¡¯s just make it quick.¡±


    He began taking out the pants. Ildarg followed by unbottoning the cloak. They were about to exchange the upper side of their clothes, when a voice boomed from the inn.


    ¡°Hey, look here! That rookie¡¯s showing himself off!¡±


    More drunken folks came out of the inn, followed by another rain of rotten food.


    ¡°Let¡¯s run,¡± Rikastil said. Ildarg didn¡¯t dispute it, and they fled naked around the village. Soon, many doors opened at once to see the absurd spectacle. The voices of the villagers, the laughs, the shouts surrounded them, in a desperate search of a calm place where to get dressed. Eventually, they found a meadow where cows were grazing.


    ¡°Behind them!¡± Rikastil pointed. Ildarg, as he made the first step onto the grass, felt something very squishy. His shoes were now darker.


    ¡°I have stepped on one of their turds,¡± he announced with a depressed tone.


    ¡°Damn,¡± Rikastil commented, ¡°those were my best shoes.¡±


    ¡°Well, sorry,¡± he snorted, ¡°but I think at least you are in time to clean them up before the battle. That¡¯s your biggest worry!¡±


    ¡°Ildarg, you have no reason to be angry with me! I did my best teaching you how to be a bard, no need to be that aggressive.¡±


    ¡°I do!¡±


    ¡°Why, exactly?¡±


    ¡°You could have told me I was going to face you!¡±


    ¡°Look, it didn¡¯t come to my mind, fine? Can we finish dressing up before the farmer finds us-¡±


    ¡°Hey, you two, what are you doing with my cows?¡±


    They both fell silent. They still hadn¡¯t finished getting dressed again. Even the cows were looking at them now.


    ¡°We...we mean no harm!¡± Rikastil shouted. ¡°We just need a place for the night! Really!¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t fool me, thieves! Get away before I tell my dog to come at you!¡±


    Ildarg sighed. ¡°Run away again?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    They left the meadow and began a second run, with the feeling that night was getting quite repetitive.

 Chapter 6

    The duo found refuge in another farm, whose owner was thankfully much less suspicious, due also to the fact they were now fully dressed. They didn¡¯t exchange any single word as they prepared themselves for bed in the shared room the farmer had offered them, and in the morning, they kept the same unfriendliness, despite the farmer¡¯s attempt to cheer the atmosphere up.


    ¡°So, hm, how long have you known each other, lads?¡±


    Rikastil made a gesture with his hand, like for saying ¡®stop talking¡¯. Ildarg, on the other hand, just grumbled: ¡°We just met on the way. We aren¡¯t friends.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± replied the farmer, rapidly getting back to his bread and butter.


    The rest of the breakfast was spent in absolute silence, broken only by the occasional moo from outside. Whenever Rikastil turned his head to Ildarg, the latter would look elsewhere, and vice versa. Eventually, the farmer got up and announced:


    ¡°I have to go milk my cow. Do you need to remain here, or¡­?¡±


    ¡°No, we¡¯re leaving now,¡± Rikastil cut out, ¡°thank you for your hospitality, sir.¡±


    Soon, the duo was walking on the beaten path that lead to the farm, without exchanging a single word. Despite Ildarg¡¯s best attempts at cleaning his shoes, the stink of cow dung kept punching him. Eventually, they found a crossroad.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to find a room in Lavidar,¡± Rikastil said, ¡°it¡¯s on the left path. Are you sure you don¡¯t want to¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± Ildarg replied coldly.


    ¡°Where are you going to?¡±


    ¡°Back to that dragon.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember where it is?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I had passed through here. I need to go right.¡± Only his own self-control made him avoid say: ¡®Thankfully.¡¯


    ¡°So, hem¡­¡± Rikastil made a last, heroic attempt at remaining on friendly terms. ¡°See you in two days?¡±


    Ildarg didn¡¯t reply, and immediately moved to the right path.


    ***


    For some reason, Kirja¡¯s cave looked even gloomier than the first time Ildarg had stepped in. Likely, it was a result of being depressed like never before. He had hoped walking would calm down the memories for a while, but it was a hope born dead: the face of Rikastil, his performance at the inn and the thought of his daughter appeared in the most unexpected ways. There were clouds, trees, sometimes even rocks that looked like one of them. Even in that cave¡¯s obscurity, he could glimpse some stalactites that looked similar. The dragon himself didn¡¯t scare him anymore: Ildarg had faced him already, and whatever that giant monster could do to him, it could be actually better than watching Elise perish in front of her eyes.


    Finally, the light of the lair appeared. He entered, and here it was, the sea of forbidden books, upon which lay an enormous, yellow-scaled winged lizard, who awakened from his slumber and directed his nose to the intruder.


    ¡°What, do, we, have, h-oh, it¡¯s my bard.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And it seems that you have brought a cow for me? Do you think I cannot hunt on my own?¡±


    ¡°What cow? I didn¡¯t bring any.¡±


    ¡°Then why do I smell cow?¡±


    Ildarg lowered his head. ¡°I stepped on some cow dung.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°It was just an accident!¡± He raised his head again and managed to look at Kirja in his eyes. ¡°But I haven¡¯t come to talk about this! I need to talk to you.¡±


    ¡°For what? Shouldn¡¯t you prepare yourself for the battle?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the point¡­¡± he lowered his head again. ¡°I tried. I performed in a tavern. It was a disaster. I can¡¯t win. It would be pointless to go to Lavidar.¡±


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    For a moment, Kirja¡¯s eyes seemed like they had become redder, or hotter-in any case, his look was plain terrifying.


    ¡°I do not accept this kind of distrust from my personal bard! I have chosen you, and you shall join the battle!¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand! I have met my rival! He¡¯s a professional bard, he has done it for a lifetime!¡±


    ¡°And? Have you put your heart in becoming better than him?¡±


    ¡°Yes! I found a bard who could teach me but¡­¡± he covered his face with his hands. ¡°...he turned out to be my rival himself.¡±


    The dragon didn¡¯t answer immediately. However, he pulled his gargantuan head away from him.


    ¡°What did he teach you?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­he taught me how to sing and play the lute. He wrote a song for me to perform at the battle. It¡¯s the song I tried to sing in that tavern.¡±


    ¡°Sing it.¡±


    Ildarg almost looked the blood abandoning his veins below his skin, making it pale from terror.


    ¡°I...it¡¯s plain bad...you¡¯ll not be pleased-¡±


    ¡°Sing it!¡±


    Ildarg remembered he was dealing with a dragon. There was no chance to reply. He sighed and opened his mouth.


    I cannot sing very well,


    but my heart is true and pure


    so today my throat proclaims,


    mighty Kirja, I love you!


    Your benevolence¡¯s so touching,


    your conditions are so good.


    Hundred books every five years,


    and you don¡¯t take us as food!


    Along, long silence followed. The sweat drops on Ildarg¡¯s head crossed his front before falling on his shoulders.


    ¡°Is that all?¡± Kirja finally said.


    ¡°Y...yes.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± the dragon patted one of his paws on the pile of books his body rested on. ¡°It¡¯s a mediocre song. And your performance is suboptimal. Besides, I couldn¡¯t smell any affection from you, when you sang you love me.¡±


    ¡°I told you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to find another bard to teach you better. Leave this cave and do your duty.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t do it in two days!¡± Ildarg shouted. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m really sorry. The only reason I¡¯ve come here is to pray you for that book to save my daughter. Eat me if you must, I¡¯m ready to exchange my life for hers!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not going to happen!¡± Kirja roared furiously, and the stomp on his book almost shook the cave itself. ¡°I made a vow! One life lost is nothing compared to the evil I¡¯d release again, if I broke it!¡±


    ¡°Please!¡±


    The dragon opened his mouth and released the most furious roar possible. He didn¡¯t say anything: that roar did not need any words. But Ildarg was desperate enough to overcome the terror only a dragon could inflict.


    ¡°Can you at least help me improve my singing?¡±


    ¡°That would require giving you information from another of my books. So no.¡±


    ¡°How can you hope to defeat your rival then?¡± Ildarg shouted, out of frustration. He didn¡¯t care anymore about dealing with a dragon: in fact, he didn¡¯t care anymore about anything else but saving Elise. ¡°I need that kind of information! There are times when you must share your knowledge! What value does it have, if you just keep it for yourself? How could a book about singing or healing make us humans destroy the world again?¡±


    He expected Kirja to roar at him again, or hurt him. He was ready. But the dragon didn¡¯t react-at least, not immediately. His eyes weren¡¯t turning red, nor did he open his mouth again. However, his breath was heavy.


    ¡°Don¡¯t abuse the fact I¡¯m not snapping you only because you¡¯re my chosen bard. Before or after, I may lose control.¡±


    ¡°You know I¡¯m right,¡± Ildarg said, calmly. ¡°By the time I get back, it will be one day before the battle. I won¡¯t have time to find another bard.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the most stubborn human I¡¯ve ever met, you know? And I lived long enough to meet thousands.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to lose more land?¡±


    ¡°If it means keeping my oath, yes, I accept defeat!¡±


    ¡°When was the last time a bard of yours won?¡±


    Kirja¡¯s head lowered down. Ildarg smiled. He had touched the right nerve.


    ¡°A while,¡± the dragon admitted.


    ¡°More or less¡­?¡±


    ¡°Ten years.¡±


    ¡°Aww,¡± Ildarg exclaimed, ¡°I¡¯m so sorry to hear that. You must have lost a lot of land and books. It¡¯s not suited for a great dragon like you.¡±


    Kirja raised his head a little. ¡°Don¡¯t fool me with dirty little mind tricks like this. I know what you¡¯re trying to do.¡±


    ¡°It may be a mind trick, but it¡¯s the truth. After your rival defeats you enough times to get the rest of your hoard, how can you be sure she¡¯ll keep those books safe from humans? There¡¯s no one you can know better than yourself-there¡¯s no one you can trust better than yourself.¡±


    ¡°Mmmrrggghhh¡­¡± The dragon was in clear difficulty.


    ¡°If you let me go, I¡¯ll be back.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only two days. After the battle, I¡¯ll be free to gobble you up.¡±


    ¡°I am a father. Good parents are ready to face anything to save their offspring.¡±


    ¡°Oof. Your nature as social animals has always given me headaches.¡± The dragon snorted. ¡°Fine! I¡¯ll tell you the contents of my books. But first you must accept my conditions. First, under no circumstances shall you leave this cave until the battle. Second, I will take you with me to that village when the battle begins. Third, in case you win, you must come live with me permanently, so I can prevent you from revealing around what I¡¯m going to teach you; also, you shall become my permanent, personal bard, and you shall have no right to leave this cave, forever. Fourth, in case you lose, you give me the irrevocable authorization to eat you.¡±


    Ildarg reflected for a moment. It was already more than he possibly hoped for. It was wiser not to demand too much. He had a pair of questions, though.


    ¡°If I win, can my family come live here too?¡±


    The dragon paused for a while too, then said: ¡°I can¡¯t think of anything against it. But they must live under your same conditions.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll first ask them. Also¡­¡±


    ¡°What else? You¡¯re already forcing me to do things I thought I¡¯d never do?¡±


    ¡°If I lose, can you eat me whole?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Then, the dragon made a big, unmistakable facepalm. ¡°Oh dear. Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re one of them.¡±


    ¡°Of what?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes I have been visited by certain humans who asked me to...well, I couldn¡¯t not fulfill their request, but they were the most awkward meals I ever had. Anyway. Do you accept my conditions?¡±


    Ildarg smiled. Not many could say they had managed to stand their ground against a dragon. In the worst case, if anything, he could fulfill an idea that had always fascinated him...


    ¡°I do. When do we begin our lessons?¡±

 Chapter 7

    ¡°Just tell me the kind of books you need and I¡¯ll grab them,¡± Kirja said.


    ¡°Huh...anything about playing a lute, or...being a bard, I suppose,¡± Ildarg answered, before realizing something important. ¡°Wait! We have no lute!¡±


    ¡°I do have one,¡± the dragon replied. ¡°It used to belong to the last bard that played for me.¡±


    ¡°What happened to him?¡±


    The dragon grinned. ¡°I ate him after the performance. He had the nerve of accusing me of his failure.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Ildarg commented, as if they were talking about the weather.


    ¡°So, anyways, books about being a bard and playing the lute, plus a lute. Incoming!¡±


    And he dived into the huge pile of books. Only his waving yellow tail emerged from it, while discarded tomes flew from all directions. Ildarg couldn¡¯t help admire the variety of genres the dragon owned, at least the ones whose titles were in uppercase; the human told himself he should learn to read in lowercase too, in case he miraculously won. Then a big, bulky one titled ¡®Dictionary dragon-kobold and kobold-dragon¡¯ almost hit his face.


    ¡°Sorry, thought it was about barding!¡±


    Ildarg didn¡¯t reply, but stopped attempting to read the books¡¯ titles, concentrating instead on their trajectory.


    ¡°Ah, here is the lute!¡± announced the dragon.


    Suddenly, from the pile of books emerged a different object, which turned to be, unsurprisingly, a lute. Ildarg managed to catch it before it would hit the ground, saving it from destruction.


    ¡°Hmm...maybe this one¡­¡± came again the muffled voice of the dragon, whose tail was now nearly swallowed by the ocean of books ¡°...yes! Here is one!¡±


    Another book flew to his direction, just like that dictionary. This time, however, Ildarg was ready: with open hands, he caught the incoming tone and saved his face from being smashed by knowledge. The title was in uppercase: it said ¡®How to learn the lute in two days¡¯.


    Strangely convenient, he thought.


    ¡°Do you need anything else?¡± Rikastil shouted.


    ¡°Hm...something about singing!¡±


    ¡°Incoming!¡± For the third time, a tome came to his direction. This new book was titled ¡®Become a singer in two days¡¯.


    Is some god above deciding these titles right now, or is it just a coincidence? Ildarg wondered.


    ¡°Need some more?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Ildarg answered. He was starting getting tired, and wasn¡¯t sure if he¡¯d take his face away from the next one.


    The dragon¡¯s big yellow head emerged from the books, taking a deep breath. ¡°Aaaaah, air!¡± Then he landed in front of the human. ¡°Alright, give me the books and I¡¯ll read them for you.¡±


    Ildarg obeyed. With a theatrical gesture, the dragon opened How To Learn The Lute In Two Days with the tip of his right forepaw¡¯s longest talon, and began reading, while Ildarg sat down.


    ¡°You were spending a pleasant night in your local tavern and between a pint and another you saw a bard entering the local, playing marvelous songs that enchanted your mind. It was such a good experience, you now wish you were able to sing those songs by yourself, in any time and any place. This is not a bad idea at all! What do you say? You¡¯re not going to be as good as professional bards because you don¡¯t know much about music? Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve got you covered! I guarantee that learning how to sing doesn¡¯t require any theoretic musical knowledge, and as such, can be done even by those, like you, who are approaching the world of music for the first time. You don¡¯t even need any particular object: all it takes is some lungs, a voice and a lot of goodwill-¡±


    ¡°Hem, where does it begin teaching?¡±


    Kirja looked at him with a murderous look.


    ¡°You dare interrupt me when I¡¯m reading a collection from my hoard?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t, normally!¡± Ildarg barked, getting a little further from him. ¡°It¡¯s just, we don¡¯t need to read everything from that book-we only need the parts where it explains what to do.¡±


    The dragon¡¯s eyes relaxed a bit, and finally, he announced: ¡°I concede you¡¯re right. Let me search for the actual content.¡±


    He turned a pair of pages before announcing: ¡°This looks like what we need. First: Stand up straight. Correct posture is essential: you cannot sing well without standing tall.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I remember this,¡± Ildarg said, and he got up. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±


    ¡°Breathe with our diaphragm. Practice by making deep breaths: inhale and exhale, imagining your nose is on your stomach...wait, what¡¯s a diaphragm?¡±


    ¡°The bard who taught me tried to explain it,¡± Ildarg answered, ¡°it¡¯s something in our bodies. I haven¡¯t understood much, though. Anyway, I¡¯ve done this too. Inhale and exhale, I spent a week doing this.¡±


    The dragon turned some more pages, puffing with his mouth.


    ¡°Warm up your voice by singing scales¡­¡±


    ¡°I know that already.¡±


    ¡°It looks like you know everything then. Why you made me search for this book?¡± The dragon growled, irritated.


    Ildarg felt disappointed too. That book was no different from Rikastil¡¯s teachings. He didn¡¯t have the courage to look at Kirja in his eyes; a bit because of fear, a bit because of shame.


    ¡°I thought it would contain some magic trick,¡± he admitted, ¡°some bard secret¡­¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s try the lute.¡±


    Kirja grabbed the book about singing and threw it behind him, like if it was just some garbage. Then, he opened the other, which was much bulkier. However, even this one contained a lot of information Ildarg had already been taught. How to chord it, where notes are, basic chords...until at one point, when Kirja seemed ready to set it on fire, they found something new.


    ¡°Alternate picking? I never heard of that,¡± the human said.


    ¡°Oh, at last!¡± The dragon thundered. ¡°Here is what it says: Alternate picking is arguably one of the most used right-hand techniques on the lute. It is especially popular in fast soloing, but you can use it in-¡±


    ¡°Just read what it is and how to make it!¡±


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The beast roared in his face, but Ildarg had passed through so much in few days, that he didn¡¯t blink an eye.


    ¡°You know I¡¯m right, I told you before.¡±


    ¡°You insolent¡­¡± Kirja lamented. ¡°Fine, fine, as long as you don¡¯t interrupt me anymore! Alternate picking is when you pick down, up, down, up and so on. This will make you play faster notes with more precision. In short: play the first note by moving your finger down, then play the next one by moving it up. Keep alternating these two movements. Here are some exercises¡­¡±


    Enthusiast for finding something new to try, Ildarg immediately grabbed the lute and did as the book said: he moved his right index down to play the first chord, then up, then down, then up.


    ¡°Hey, much better!¡± He exclaimed, as he moved his finger around the chords. ¡°Up, down, up down, up down¡­¡± The whole lair resonated with the sound of the melodies he had practiced together with Rikastil, twice as fast as before, singing enthusiastically.


    ¡°I was caught / in the middle of a horse cart track! I looked ¡®round / and I knew there was no turning back!¡±


    Kirja looked at him with a look that could express amusement, or irritation; probably both.


    ¡°You¡¯re still making lots of errors.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll practice just this technique then, for today. Tomorrow we can refine my song, how about that?¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a good plan,¡± the dragon nodded, throwing the lute book on the big pile.


    But after several hours, Ildarg was still playing the wrong notes too many times, despite his new acquired speed. The joy of discovering the new technique progressively faded away, replaced by the self-knowledge of his limits. Plus, he was also feeling tired.


    ¡°I was caught / in the middle of a...of a...no, wrong note...I was caught / in the...oh, damn! I was..I was¡­¡±


    During the whole time, Kirja had done nothing but standing in front of him and watching in silence. Not a comment, not an encouragement or a critique; so Ildarg jumped out when he spoke, remembering his presence.


    ¡°You need to sleep.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± The human cried, waving a hand to nowhere in particular. ¡°I must do it...I must save my daughter¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve practiced enough for today. If you don¡¯t sleep, you¡¯ll be too tired to play at the battle.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m...I¡¯m still not good enough¡­¡± he blabbed. ¡°Play more...get better...im-¡±


    But the rest of the words died in his throat as his head collapsed on the instrument, producing a pair of dissonant notes that echoed through the rocks.


    When he opened his eyes again, he had no more the lute in his hands. The left side of his body was leaning against something soft and warm, which expanded and contracted regularly. He got up: he had slept on Kirja¡¯s hip. The lute lay on the ground, and next to it was a deer¡¯s carcass, some wood and a bucket.


    ¡°What¡­¡± he murmured.


    ¡°You dozed off,¡± the dragon explained. ¡°While you slept, I hunted some food outside and grabbed some water.¡±


    ¡°How do you have a bucket?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not the first bard I host,¡± he said, yawning. ¡°Now, please, take that deer. I¡¯ll help you with making the firewood, so you can eat it like you humans do.¡±


    Never would he have imagined such gentleness from a fearsome creature like him. True, he would be more gentle if he just gave him the book to save his daughter, but that was already a lot. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m only doing it to keep you in shape for tomorrow,¡± the dragon cut out.


    Tomorrow...Ildarg¡¯s heart plunged. He looked at the lute, and remembered how poor his ability still was. He tried to take out of his head the memory of who his rival was, to no avail: the image of Rikastil playing flawlessly in the tavern tortured him. Not mentioning, he had given all his savings to him! Soon his wife would lose his daughter, his husband would be eaten, and she would have no money to carry on. It was like if Ildarg, by getting in contact with that dragon, had made everything worse instead of-


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to eat?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, of course!¡± He proceeded to prepare a fireplace.


    When both were done, Kirja didn¡¯t lose any time. ¡°So, now it¡¯s the time to refine your song. Take the lute and play it.¡±


    Ildarg, feeling a bit heavy from its stomach full of deer and water, felt more like resting a bit more, but the thought of the next day was enough motivation. He got up, grabbed the instrument, then sat down and played the song Rikastil had written for him.


    I cannot sing very well,


    but my heart is true and pure


    so today my throat proclaims,


    mighty Kirja, I love you!


    Your benevolence¡¯s so touching,


    your conditions are so good.


    Hundred books every five years,


    and you don¡¯t take us as food!


    In truth, he was beginning to hate those lyrics.


    ¡°Alright, I see two problems with this song,¡± Kirja commented, ¡°first of all, it could tell more details about how better I am than my rival, other than my terms and conditions. Even after being defeated so many times, my hoard remains undeniably bigger than hers. Not mentioning all the books she wishes she had. And¡­¡± He stopped talking, whispering to himself.


    ¡°And¡­?¡± Ildarg attempted to ask, after a while.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s all,¡± the dragon said, looking away.


    ¡°So, we¡¯ll add four more verses?¡±


    ¡°Sounds good to me.¡±


    ¡°Which ones?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± The dragon snorted. ¡°You are the bard, therefore you are the one supposed to add these new verses.¡±


    ¡°But you have all these books¡­¡±


    ¡°To be kept away from humans, not to be read.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never written music before!¡±


    ¡°You had never sung or played a lute, yet here you are.¡±


    ¡°Ha, very clever,¡± Ildarg laughed, ¡°but I¡¯m afraid Rikastil didn¡¯t teach me how to write a song. He did the task for me.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I get it,¡± the dragon sighed. ¡°Book about writing music incoming.¡±


    Before Ildarg could reply, his head was already deep into the book¡¯s hoard, and the rain of tomes came back. At one point, he had to bend backwards to avoid a series of volumes about cooking cakes.


    When Kirja announced he had found the right one, next to the human landed an absurdly huge book, as big as his own chest. Ildarg tried to read the title, but it was in lowercase.


    ¡°What does it say?¡± He asked the dragon¡¯s head, re-emerging from the pile.


    ¡°Theory and discussions on poetry and music composition.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll never read it in one day,¡± he said in discouragement.


    ¡°We just need to find out the right chapter,¡± Kirja replied, ¡°so you can write those verses.¡±


    ¡°While you wait, I¡¯ll practice the melody.¡±


    For a while, the human played as if for providing a background for Kirja¡¯s reading time. The dragon restlessly turned the enormous pages, until he finally exclaimed: ¡°I may have found something!¡±


    Ildarg stopped playing immediately. ¡°What does it say?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a part titled Lyrics writing essentials.¡±


    ¡°How long is it?¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­¡± Kirja turned a lot of pages at the same time. ¡°Three hundred and forty-five pages.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too much. I should focus on improving what we have already.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an incomplete song!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no more time! If we had discussed this seven days before, we could have done it, but now, you can only hope for the best.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare make me this kind of lessons, human! You should have remained with that bard and you¡¯d have perfected the song with him!¡±


    ¡°That bard is my adversary! How could have I kept trusting him?¡±


    ¡°Well, it was your responsibility to find the right way to learn how to bard! You should have found another one!¡±


    ¡°It should have been your responsibility from the very beginning!¡± Ildarg found himself standing up, despite not remembering it. ¡°It¡¯s you who has all these useful books, it¡¯s you who sends bards to battle against each other! No wonder you keep losing! It¡¯s time you stop being afraid of the past and accept that sometimes, sharing is the right thing to do!¡±


    In reply, the dragon emitted the loudest, longest roar he ever made since the first day they met. Ildarg, confident of the fact he would survive at least until the battle, kept staring at him.


    ¡°I am wondering whether I should eat you regardless of tomorrow¡¯s outcome-¡±


    ¡°Heh. I told already, I¡¯m kinda into-¡±


    ¡°-by chewing you.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he said. He sat down and grabbed the lute again. With so little time left, it didn¡¯t make sense to keep arguing about whose the fault was. He had a song to practice. ¡°Wait. I still haven¡¯t tried it with the technique I learned yesterday.¡±


    ¡°The alternate picking? I don¡¯t see how it can improve such a lukewarm composition.¡±


    ¡°Do we have anything else?¡± He played the chords faster, and the effect was immediate. His own head was now jamming from the rhythm. There were still a lot of wrong notes, but the song itself felt livelier, catchier...more effective.


    Kirja kept staring at him. Ildarg wasn¡¯t sure, but those few times he raised his head while playing, he could have swore his head was following the rhythm too. He smiled. Maybe there was a chance.


    ¡°Good, good,¡± the dragon commented, ¡°now the last thing to practice: pressure.¡±


    ¡°What do you¡­¡±


    His enormous head got so close to Ildarg, he could have booped his nose. The strong reptile smell punched him


    ¡°Keep playing,¡± he said, ¡°I will stay here.¡±


    ¡°Al...alright.¡±


    It took an effort to keep looking at the chords and ignore the giant reptile head above him. For a while, he had to slow down, putting the song back to its original so-so-ness. Gradually, though, it became just a part of the environment. Inside Ildarg¡¯s head, nothing existed but himself and the lute. The song itself just came out as it had to, with its melody, its lyrics and its wrong notes.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Kirja said, and Ildarg felt like waking up after a long, long state of trance. ¡°It is time to rest now. Tomorrow I¡¯ll fly you to Lavidar.¡±


    The human could now feel the tiredness in his body. The thought of the battle was a distant thing, covered by the need to close his eyes. He left the lute on the ground, put his head on Kirja¡¯s comfortable body and stopped thinking.

 Chapter 8

    When Ildarg woke up, however, its fears came back in their entireness. His breath was heavy, his skin covered in sweat. The strings of the lute next to him seemed to be more than six: it was as if they were impossible to count. The dragon next to him felt as tall as the clouds in the sky.


    ¡°It is time, human. Are you ready?¡± The rumbling voice of the monster thundered.


    ¡°I...I...¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes.¡±


    The human barely noticed the talons closing on his body and taking him out of the lair, into the long, dark corridor and finally onto the outside world. Panic had paralyzed his own body. Only when he felt his body being lifted, did he realize what was happening.


    ¡°AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t scream too much, you need to save your voice for the battle!¡±


    Ildarg stopped screaming immediately, but his feet kept swinging, suffering the lack of ground. They wanted to kick the dragon¡¯s scales, but all they could reach was the air, which was strong and unbearably cold: as the dragon beat his wings, it hit Ildarg¡¯s face violently, so much that his eyes watered.


    Then suddenly, the soles of his feet touched something. The wind had ceased. Ildarg dried his tears: they were back on land.


    ¡°Never again!¡± He shouted. ¡°Never again!¡±


    ¡°How else did you want me to bring you to Lavidar?¡± Kirja replied, next to him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know...maybe on your back? At least I could sit on-¡±


    ¡°That is out of question,¡± the dragon cut out, ¡°being ridden by humans risks making them think they can rule over dragons, and by extension, the world.¡±


    ¡°I had barely waken up! I-oh, are we in Lavidar?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Only now did Ildarg pay attention to the location they had just landed in. It was a village, not dissimilar to his - but there were people everywhere. They occupied the whole road they were in, making their way by shoving others. And they were all looking at him and Kirja.


    Suddenly, he heard a bell noise. ¡°The mighty Kirja has arrived with his bard!¡± A male voice proclaimed. It came from an elderly man, shaking a big cowbell and wearing on his head something similar to a big purple pillow. Ildarg suffocated a laugh. Not even Rikastil could ever wear such a ridiculous-


    Rikastil. He didn¡¯t appear among the crowd yet. Although that crowd was so wide, Ildarg wouldn¡¯t likely find him whatsoever. On the other hand, though, he had to be accompanied by a dragon too, so if there was no dragon, then his ex-teacher hadn¡¯t arrived yet.


    He tried to look for Silvane, but it was impossible: the crowd was now bowing to Kirja. The masses of hair above the ground could belong to anyone.


    ¡°Do I have to bow too...?¡± He asked the dragon.


    ¡°You¡¯re not obliged,¡± his master replied, in a tone that suggested the other way around. So Ildarg too got himself against the ground, paying homage to the massive ruler of those lands. As he got up again, he looked at the crowd again. And here they were. How could he not think about it? All he needed to do was looking for a woman¡¯s hair with a baby next to her.


    ¡°Silvane!¡± He ran towards her, as everyone else around him got back to their feet, uncaring of Kirja calling him back. His wife turned her head, their baby in her arms.


    ¡°What...oh, Ildarg!¡± She exclaimed, and the couple tightened themselves in a long hug. As their bodies separated, Silvane thundered her lament.


    ¡°What happened? You didn¡¯t get back last night! Rikastil came to my house and said you were gone to the dragon again!¡±


    ¡°Silvane...¡± Ildarg took breath. ¡°I had to. Only the dragon could really make me have a chance.¡± Meanwhile, their daughter coughed violently. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were half-closed. ¡°Elise...¡± he trembled, giving her a kiss on her front. ¡°Dad¡¯s going to do what he can. Silvane, how has she...she...¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s getting worse,¡± she said, and her eyes became humid. ¡°When you weren¡¯t there...she got worse...much more than usual...the healer said she won¡¯t get through the next two days!¡±


    And she cried copiously. Ildarg¡¯s world felt like falling apart. He hoped, in case he¡¯d lose, that she could get some time between losing her husband and her baby. Instead, it looked like they were destined to happen at the same time.


    ¡°What did the dragon tell you this time?¡± Silvane asked, wiping her tears off.


    ¡°We...found something that could help me,¡± he said, ¡°some good lute technique. But the problem is another...did Rikastil mention you? Who my adversary is?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    He hadn¡¯t. That coward hadn¡¯t told her. Ildarg¡¯s anger towards him doubled.


    ¡°My adversary is-¡±


    But he didn¡¯t make in time to reveal it to her, that the people around her shouted. A strong wind came out all of a sudden. All three of them turned their heads back.


    Towards the village was flying a second dragon. It had blue scales, and was carrying a male human on its talons, who held a lute in its hands. Ildarg didn¡¯t need any hint to figure out the human¡¯s identity, but his black and scarlet clothes, his green cloak and his cylinder-shaped hat were unmistakable.


    ¡°Rikastil?¡± Silvane shouted. ¡°You¡¯re going to face Rikastil?¡±


    Ildarg sighed and lowered his head. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°He never told you?¡±


    ¡°Only by accident. When I discovered it, we departed. That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t come back home, that night.¡±


    In her eyes, Ildarg could read the harsh truth. They were eyes of hopelessness. The student couldn¡¯t pass the master. Not after a handful of days of teaching.


    ¡°Ildarg...¡± she said, feebly.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    As they talked, the blue dragon landed. The crowd gave space for the newcomers, while the announcer shouted their names.


    ¡°The challenger Boken has arrived with her bard!¡±


    Rikastil was getting up, cleaning his clothes from the dust caused by the dragon¡¯s landing. Their eyes met for a moment. Both the challengers took them away instantly, without recognizing they had shared the same roof for a short time. Meanwhile, Kirja approached his rival.


    ¡°Ah, here you are,¡± Boken acknowledged his presence. Ildarg drew a gasp: knowing it was a female dragon, he expected a female voice. Boken¡¯s, instead, sounded even deeper than Kirja. ¡°Is that your bard? Please, don¡¯t tell me you rushed out at the last moment once again. I don¡¯t remember the last time I felt satisfaction in defeating you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to get surprised,¡± Kirja replied. ¡°Your bards are all virtuosity and no heart. My bard has plenty of heart to sing.¡±


    ¡°The heart is useless without technique,¡± Boken replied, moving her tail sinuously. ¡°How long has your bard played music?¡±


    Ildarg bit his fingers. Even Rikastil looked uneasy in that situation, and his head was determined in studying the crowd around them.


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    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Kirja said.


    ¡°Your refusal to answer speaks for itself,¡± the blue dragoness replied, scornful. ¡°Thank you for giving me so generously another piece of land to control. Also, I can¡¯t wait to put my claws on your Salmon Poem.¡±


    Kirja rubbed his snout in embarrassment. Ildarg would almost feel sorry for him if he wasn¡¯t battling to save his offspring. For a short moment, Rikastil seemed to desire to tell him something, but one eye blink later, his sight was directed to the crowd, his lips sealed.


    ¡°Well, enough with these sad formalities,¡± Boken said, ¡°the battle is about to begin. Speaking of which, where is your bard¡¯s lute?¡±


    The lute. Only now did Ildarg realize it. He hadn¡¯t seen it since they had left the cave!


    ¡°Did we...¡± he asked Kirja, trembling. ¡°Did you take it?¡±


    But the dragon didn¡¯t say anything. He was looking at his own paws in nervousness.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Rikastil finally took speech, ¡°he can use mine.¡±


    ¡°Thank your rival, you both,¡± Boken said, tasting their shame with gusto by taking her tongue out. The dragon and the human simultaneously bowed their heads, saying a low, quick ¡®thank you¡¯ that was barely audible. Before the dragon rival could express her satisfaction or lack of it, the announcer took the word again.


    ¡°Attention! The battle is about to begin! The first to play its song, as per tradition, will be the last loser¡¯s bard!¡±


    ¡°Give him the lute, my bard,¡± Boken said, before flying behind the crowd gathering around the center of the road.


    Rikastil walked towards Ildarg. He extracted the lute from his back as his feet proceeded. Ildarg didn¡¯t move at all; in fact, he felt like he couldn¡¯t even think at all. None of them made an effort to look at each other. As Rikastil offered him the instrument, his mouth slightly opened.


    ¡°M...may the best win.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope not.¡±


    How Ildarg could find the force to make a joke like that, it was a mystery for him. Fortunately, Rikastil didn¡¯t add anything else.


    Everyone was now around them. The figures of the two dragons stood above the humans, looking at their bards with severe eyes. To Ildarg¡¯s left, Silvane was looking at him, with Elise in her arms, coughing violently on her face. In front of him, Rikastil had finally decided to look at him, but the rest of his face was inexpressive.


    ¡°May the loser¡¯s bard begin!¡± The announcer shouted.


    Here it comes, Ildarg sighed as his right hand moved above the lute¡¯s strings. For one week, one week that had felt like years, he had prepared himself for this moment.


    Quickly, his mind forgot everything else. It entered into a state of trance, a state that was neither pleasant nor painful, as if Ildarg himself had just become a sleepwalker. The crowd, Silvane, the dragons, Rikastil, the village...they all disappeared within his mind. There was only himself, the lute and the song.


    Mechanically, his fingers plucked the strings, while his uvula vibrated.


    ICANNOTSINGVERYWELLBUTMYHEARTISTRUEANDPURE!


    SOTODAYMYTHROATPROCLAIMSMIGHTYKIRJAILOVEYOU!


    YOURBENEVOLENCESSOTOUCHINGYOURCONDITIONSARESOGOOD!


    HUNDREDBOOKSEVERYFIVEYEARSANDYOUDONTTAKEUSASFOOD!


    He played his song using the new technique he learned in the cave, singing as fast as he could, repeating the verses no less than three times while the notes came from the lute with the speed of a galloping horse. Whether he was playing the right notes or not, he wasn¡¯t caring. He would see it from the audience¡¯s reaction later, in any case.


    Finally, he concluded his performance with a last, strong chord. Panting, he studied the crowd. They didn¡¯t look pleased. Quite baffled. Behind him, Kirja was scratching his neck nervously; Boken, instead, looked at him with an air of superiority. Rikastil¡¯s attention was diverted to the clouds. But what really made him understand he didn¡¯t stand a chance was Silvane¡¯s face, mortified as she tried to calm down Elise, weeping loudly, bothered by her father¡¯s music. Only another stream of coughs interrupted her cry.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry,¡¯ he desperately wanted to shout at them, ¡®I¡¯m so sorry¡¯. But the announcer spoke once again before he could take any initiative. But Rikastil was already in front of him, ready to take back his lute and make it play some actual good music. With shaking hands, he returned the instrument to him, and with death in his heart, he watched him as he embraced it with the elegance of a real bard, of someone who had spent years, and not some days, on that.


    ¡°Ahem...may the champion¡¯s bard begin!¡±


    Rikastil began to sing, and the first notes were enough to put an enormous distance between the two performances. Ildarg¡¯s master and adversary was harmonious and elegant, his notes were inspired and as he started, Elise instantly calmed down. Ildarg¡¯s mind collapsed. It was over.


    He let himself think of the words of Rikastil¡¯s song.


    From the great Sida lowlands, hear!


    There comes a creature great to see,


    A dragon fierce with scales of blue,


    Whose grandiose wisdom¡¯s here for you.


    Amidst her lair of ancient stone,


    Great Boken hoards old books alone,


    Vast tomes of knowledge, old and new,


    That few have seen, and fewer knew.


    Her territory, vast and grand,


    Is filled with bumpkins on the land,


    But they fear not great Boken¡¯s might,


    For she rules with wisdom and light...


    As Rikastil ended the third stanza, though, the crowd started being noisy. First some whispered among themselves, then, as the word passed from mouth to mouth, the voices increased, becoming as loud as the song, then overcoming it, and then roaring as one voice, in anger and dismay. Some booed the bard, some others waved their arms in vulgar gestures.


    Ildarg didn¡¯t understand. What was happening? His rival¡¯s performance was perfect. What was causing their wrath? Yet Rikastil didn¡¯t flinch and kept going on, until from the crowd flew rotten vegetables. His song was left in half as Boken herself planed on the road¡¯s center and roared, while using her wings as a shield for her bard. Only then did Ildarg realize what had angered the people.


    Wait...he said ¡®bumpkins¡¯? He really called them ¡®bumpkins¡¯?


    That did make no sense. Why would a professional bard use a word like that? It was one of the most offensive terms for peasants, if not the most offensive! Kings could be lynched if they dared pronounce it!


    More astounding was Rikastil¡¯s reaction. In the middle of that chaos, he looked perfectly serene, almost smiling. For a short moment their eyes met, and Ildarg could almost swear he had winked at him. It was at that moment that the reality hit on him.


    Could he actually have...a chance?


    After the dragoness¡¯ roar, no one dared say or throw anything else. Boken, once making sure the situation was calm again, got back to her original position. The announcer took the word.


    ¡°So, hem, hem...well, it is now time for the voting! If you want to vote for the champion¡¯s bard, raise your hand now or be silent forever!¡±


    No one raised her hand. They were all looking at Rikastil with eyes that were not much different from Kirja after being interrupted.


    ¡°Now, if you want to vote, instead, for the loser¡¯s bard, raise your hand now or be silent forever!¡±


    Ildarg almost felt like there would be an ocean of arms raised to the sky. But he was wrong. The crowd remained motionless as before, and the atmosphere was as dense as mud, immersed in a silence that was interrupted only by Elise¡¯s coughs.


    But here she was: Silvane¡¯s hand was up. Slowly but steadily, more moved their arm up. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out the outcome.


    ¡°The vote is over! The loser wins!¡±


    There were some mild, sparse claps from the crowd, which were instantly dwarfed by Ildarg¡¯s shout of joy. Forgetting about any sense of dignity, or the fact everyone was watching him, including Kirja, he ran towards his wife and gave her the longest hug they ever had.


    ¡°Silvane! I¡¯ve made it! I¡¯ve made it!¡±


    She released tears of joy as she kissed him on his lips. Meanwhile, Elise laughed content.


    They may have stayed like that for centuries, but there was something urgent to do. Now that he had gained the right, he would go to Kirja and ask him.


    With difficulty, he took off his arms from the two loves of his life and walked towards the dragon, whose tail was wagging like a dog.


    ¡°Now it is time for our pact,¡± Ildarg proclaimed. ¡°The book. The book to cure my daughter.¡±


    The dragon¡¯s tail stopped moving. He looked at his bard with decision and said:


    ¡°Once you three come to my cave, I will fulfill my promise.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Now, I need to ask something to my rival, then I will tell them.¡±


    ¡°What do you have to tell him?¡±


    ¡°Some personal stuff.¡±


    ¡°If you must.¡±


    Ildarg was about to move away when the dragon spoke again.


    ¡°You have won only because of mere luck. If your barding activities don¡¯t become decent in one year, starting from today, I will reclaim my right to eat you.¡±


    Ildarg smiled. ¡°Fine. As long as you leave my daughter in peace.¡±


    The villagers were leaving the road while Ildarg reached Rikastil. He was standing there, doing nothing but petting his lute, while the dragoness, behind, seemed to be waiting for everyone to leave. Her teeth, however, were bared.


    ¡°Hey Boken!¡± Kirja shouted as Ildarg kept walking. ¡°I¡¯ll wait for you in my cave to give me your whole Honor and Scales saga!¡±


    ¡°I...will,¡± the dragoness murmured.


    The two men were now face to face.


    ¡°Rikastil,¡± Ildarg said.


    ¡°Hello,¡± he replied.


    ¡°I have a gut feeling. You said that word on purpose, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    The face of the bard exhibited a new smile. ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°But...but why?¡±


    ¡°You needed this victory much more,¡± he explained, ¡°you have come here to save your daughter. After hiding you the fact we¡¯d be rivals, I had to pay my debt to you.¡±


    Ildarg¡¯s heart raced. Bewilderment and gratitude flowed his mind like a tempest. However, a third feeling made its way; the kind of feeling one has towards someone they care about. Worry.


    ¡°What¡¯s going to happen now? What will your dragon do to you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried,¡± he answered, although his arms were now swinging in an unnatural way, ¡°I am my own man. I don¡¯t have anyone in my life like you. Even in the worst case, I am pretty much content of the life I¡¯ve had.¡±


    ¡°I...see.¡± He was having a hard time understanding that kind of reasoning. But there was no need to think about it too much. One thing was clear: he owed the man in front of him his daughter¡¯s life. ¡°Well...thank you.¡±


    The two bards hugged each other, under the sights of the two dragons that had put them in competition. As if it came from another life, Ildarg remembered the words of Kirja when he came to his cave the first time, when he described his relationship with Boken: a sane, plentiful bloody rivalry. He couldn¡¯t help wondering what they could achieve if they learned to cooperate instead of competing, like Rikastil had done to save Elise.


    But maybe, being dragons, they would achieve too much power for the world¡¯s safety. So it was definitely better for them to keep being rivals.

 Epilogue

    The dragon¡¯s cave was large, dark and unwelcoming. Despite appearing to Silvane¡¯s eyes nothing but naked rocks, she felt the presence of the large, terrible monster whenever, wherever she put her feet on. Any noise louder than a whisper could be her own end; trembling, she imagined the dragon¡¯s nose already sniffing her, ready to protect its hoard¡­


    But she had no choice. That was going to be her family¡¯s new home ¨C forever. It had been the price to pay, in order to save their baby.


    After the joy of seeing Ildarg winning the bard battle, had come the terrible revelation. It had come only after all the crowd had finally left the village, leaving her, Ildarg, Elise and the dragon alone. For the whole time, her husband had looked like he had to tell her something important; but every time he called for her attention, his lips would stop making any kind of sound. Only the dragon¡¯s words made the truth finally ring out.


    ¡°I will give you some time to pack your belongings before you relocate to my lair. How many days will you need?¡±


    ¡°W...won¡¯t you take us directly there?¡±


    ¡°I thought you disliked it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but...but we need that book, as soon as possible. Every day could be the last for-¡±


    ¡°Ildarg?¡± Silvane intervened. ¡°What does the dragon mean, relocate to its lair?¡±


    Her love took the longest breath she¡¯d ever seen him take, before finally explaining.


    ¡°Well, when I got back to his cave, we made an agreement...¡±


    When he finished explaining, she felt like a whole mountain had fallen on her. Go live...with the dragon? Forever? Abandon their village, their community...for that monster?


    ¡°Silvane,¡± Ildarg timidly whispered, ¡°I...I¡¯m so sorry...¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s...it¡¯s fine,¡± she whispered as well. ¡°As long as we can cure Elise...I¡¯d have done the same.¡±


    Ildarg smiled, the largest smile she¡¯d ever seen him make.


    ¡°I should have known you¡¯d say it-¡±


    ¡°Hem, hem,¡± the dragon interrupted them, ¡°you still haven¡¯t answered my question!¡±


    Ildarg turned his head to the dragon. ¡°We¡¯re coming now.¡±


    So here they were, towards the belly of the cave. Ildarg walked ahead with a torch in his hand, while she followed his steps with Elise on her arms, as always. Her coughs, harsher than ever, echoed through the stone walls.


    ¡°Soon,¡± Silvane patted her front, ¡°soon...¡±


    After what felt like a whole life, appeared a light in the distance. ¡°Here we are,¡± Ildarg announced.


    The light became bigger with each step, until it finally opened to a vast, illuminated rocky room, completely filled with books. Silvane couldn¡¯t help opening her mouth wide in amazement, looking at that spectacle. Above the gigantic pile, stood the yellow dragon, looking at them with his serpentine eyes.


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    ¡°Welcome home,¡± he greeted them.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Ildarg replied, with indifferent tone. ¡°Have you got the book?¡±


    Kirja¡¯s tail moved sinuously, and ceremoniously offered a large tome wrapped in its end.


    ¡°The compendium of every possible human sickness,¡± he announced, ¡°all of them.¡±


    Both the adult humans looked at the book¡¯s size with dread. ¡°We...we don¡¯t have all that time to read it,¡± Silvane said.


    ¡°What sickness does your cub have? I can look it for you.¡±


    Ildarg referred the Kirja what the village¡¯s healer told them. The dragon nodded. ¡°Let me look in the index...ah, here it is!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the cure?¡±


    ¡°Give me the time, human,¡± Kirja replied, slightly annoyed. ¡°Hem, hem...this sickness, verily, happens to be the commonest of infancy¡¯s deadly evils, but fear thee not! For the remedy is simpler than your offspring¡¯s harsh coughs may make thee think. Honey, mushrooms and blueberries, mixed in a hot cauldron and offered once a day for seven days shall free them for the impurities that afflict their tiny, innocent souls.¡±


    Ildarg and Silvane looked each other, stunned.


    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Looks so,¡± the dragon replied.


    ¡°We need to get back to our village,¡± he stated, ¡°once we get what he said, we can put everything in the cauldron and it¡¯ll be alright. Kirja, can you take us there? I promise I won¡¯t scream.¡±


    ¡°Fine. But remember, you just promised it. One shout, and I¡¯ll fly back.¡±


    ***


    Six months had passed since then.


    Ildarg and Silvane had grown accustomed to living in the cave. Kirja turned out to be affable, once you learned to treat him with respect. He proved to actively listen to their needs: it didn¡¯t take long for him to realize his humans missed daylight, so he rapidly made sure they¡¯d be outside for half of the day, under his supervision. Despite still hesitating to share his books¡¯ vast knowledge with mere humans, knowing Ildarg seemed to have excavated a breach within his mental defenses. Now he didn¡¯t mind reading some stories to Elise, who after being offered the cure, was even more lively than before her sickness. She was still an infant, but laughed content at his dad¡¯s clumsy attempts at improving with the lute. That was the only other knowledge the dragon accepted to share: he had to, since Ildarg was going to be his personal bard, and his baby after him. ¡°You have ten years to prepare yourself for the next battle. This time, I will expect the very best music,¡± he proclaimed.


    ¡°But...wasn¡¯t it every hundred years?¡± Ildarg asked, his arms swinging exhausted after hours and hours playing the lute on his legs.


    ¡°I and Boken made an agreement,¡± he said, ¡°since she lost because of an accident caused by her bard, we anticipated our next battle to let her have a reasonable rematch. Same bards, same venue.¡±


    ¡°What...I¡¯ll have to battle Rikastil again?¡±


    ¡°In ten years,¡± Kirja nodded, ¡°in the meanwhile, you¡¯ll make sure, once you¡¯re decent enough, to travel my lands to remind my other human subjects their duties.¡±


    ¡°That is, giving you their books, right?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Next to him, Elise touched the lute with her tiny hands. As they strummed the chords, it produced a series of notes that did have no harmony, yet made her laugh in amusement. ¡°Now, dear, daddy has to practice,¡± Ildarg told her, patting her head.


    ¡°I think you did enough for today,¡± the dragon said, ¡°we can now switch to our singing lessons-¡±


    ¡°Kira!¡±


    ¡°Uh?¡± Both Ildarg and Kirja exclaimed, turning their heads at the baby. She was now crawling on the pile of books, clearly directed towards the huge dragon¡¯s figure. Her mouth opened.


    ¡°Kira!¡±


    Ildarg let the lute fall on the ground. Her first word...her first word has been the dragon¡¯s name!


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it fall!¡± the dragon thundered. ¡°I¡¯m not going to get you another if it breaks!¡±


    ¡°Kira!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Kirja,¡± he replied, getting his head close to the human cub, who kept climbing on the books. ¡°Kee-ree-jah. Say it well!¡±


    ¡°Kira!¡±


    The dragon snorted. Meanwhile, Ildarg didn¡¯t have the word to say anything.


    ¡°So,¡± Kirja said, opening a book, apparently uncaring of Elise touching one of his paws, ¡°let¡¯s begin with our usual warm-up exercises, shall we?¡±


    The adult human didn¡¯t realize immediately what he was telling him.


    ¡°Can you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Uh...yes, yes!¡± He reconnected with reality. ¡°Elise, get back here!¡±


    ¡°Kira!¡±


    ¡°Oh, alright, stay there! You¡¯d rather have a dragon as your father, right?¡±


    Kirja giggled.


    ¡°Don¡¯t encourage her!¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s clever,¡± he joked, ¡°she¡¯s already recognized dragon superiority.¡±


    Ildarg lowered his head in submission. After all, she wouldn¡¯t be there with them if not for his book hoard...