November 9

Word Count: 1035

but I think Brother Chauw would find a way to keep me close at hand."

"You don't seem to mind."

"I've no family now but the brotherhood."

"You might consider-"

"Would you look at that!" Saratin interrupted. Iber lost his train of thought as his eyes followed in the direction Saratin's arm. Had Saratin not pointed, Iber would have still noticed the scarred tree trunks off to their left. The scorch marks were almost a foot across and four feet long. The leaves around the foot of the tree were scorched and shriveled into black ash. The smell of wood smoke seemed slightly tainted with something. One section of leaves still smoked ominously.

"What could do a thing like that?" Iber asked out loud, more to himself than to Saratin. He cocked his head sideways to take a look at them from a different angle. If the marks were natural, or even if the marks were made by man, Iber couldn't conceive of how they were created. The trees had been burned on only part of their trunk and the scars were only about an inch into the bark. For such ancient trees, the marks would heal soon without touching the core. It wasn't the damage that caused Iber alarm. It was not knowing what, or who caused the damage.

"So, Almost Brother Librarian, what are we looking at."

"If I didn't know better, I'd guess this was exactly what the Venerable Hevil was describing in An Anatomy of Forest Dwelling Creatures. 'A typical sign of residence is a territorial marking of the young males. With a controlled burn, they scorch a strip in bark of the largest trees. Their individual glands are scented so that the other males can recognize the different males of their species but the differentiation between scents is imperceptible to the human olfactory system.' Any more?"

"No," Iber said. "That sounds like our creature. What is it?" Iber's horse was suddenly very skittish. He reached down to issue a reassuring pat.

"That's why I thought it couldn't be true. The Venerable Hevil was an honored brother from Ladona's history. He was the one that accepted the honor of transcribing the spell books for the Great Mages. He was for many years, the senior scribe for Oneel, one of the greatest and benevolent of the Great Mages. The creatures he describes in his book are ones he observed while working and living in the time of High Magic. The creature he is talking about has been extinct for over one hundred years. The last sighting was precisely one hundred and forty three years ago, by a farmer who brought in the weakened and half withered carcass. Without magic, there was no way for their kind to exist. They all died."

"Saratin… what exactly do you think we're dealing with."

"Dragons," he said quietly. "Lesser dragons of the forest variety." Iber's horse jumped again. Iber looked cautiously around, and drew his sword. It felt heavy in his hand. It was the first time Iber had ever had to draw it on a true occasion for use. Something told him that dragons weren't really as far fetched as they sounded.

"So they're only lesser dragons. That should be a good thing."

"Actually, lesser dragons are no more than animals. They're not capable of speech or reason. They eat, breed and cause mayhem. The forest variety have small vestigial wings that they use to glide, if not fly." Something rustled in the treetops. "Their claws are well developed to cling to the bark of trees. They are capable of short blasts of fire… if not as fully developed with the same ability to destroy in the single breath of the greater dragon."

Iber kept his eyes on the treetops. Iber hoped it was nothing but their collective overactive imagination that had him second guessing each gust of wind. "How much destruction can a greater dragon cause in one breath?"

"The destruction of an entire village."

"Oh." It was the only word Iber could think of for a full minute. Both Iber and Saratin had sensed the danger and sped up the pace, but there was only so fast that the wagon could go. Iber again thought he saw something flash in the treetops. "What color did he say these dragons are?"

"Brown, and green. They're very well camouflaged for the forest. In fact, he stated that no man dared to seek them without being clad in dragon in dragon cloth, for they had a tendency to leap out onto their victims without the slightest hint or provocation."

"Wonderful. What is dragon cloth?" Iber tried to remember the last time he'd read about dragons. He'd been quite young and the phase had passed as quickly as it had come. Childhood fantasies were all that dragons were. Long dead and gone, they were materials out of nightmares and stories told to frighten little ones.

"Dragon cloth is a rare gift from the great dragons to human kind. It's made from the scales shed from a great dragon. The scales are ground, melted, and spun into a fine thread used by the most talented weavers to create the cloth. Being made from dragons, it is complete proof against dragon fire. It is also said to be light and flexible, as if the wearer were wearing nothing but light summer weight. But with the disappearance of the great dragons, and the fading of magic, the fabric became both rare and useless."

"I don't suppose you have some in that wagon of yours."

"I don't think the brothers would own any dragon cloth, nonetheless give it to me to transport to another monastery."

"It was a farfetched idea."

"Do you really think that there are dragons in this forest?" Saratin asked him.

"Do you really think that there are dragons in this forest?" Iber replied.

Saratin was not given a chance to answer before Iber's horse saved his life. He reared and knocked Iber off balance just enough for the creature to hurtle over the horse and miss him completely. It skidded to the ground and leaves and dirt flew as it turned and hissed a stream of smoke.