Phillip

  It was a clear, late afternoon fall day with a gentle breeze—not quite cold, but getting there. The deep oranges, yellows, and reds of the sky matched the distant forest it set behind.

  Phillip’s thin leather cloak stirred in the wind as he strode down the dirt road that split the hilly grassland. His hood hid his features, and his boots clomped against the packed mud. Phillip crested a slight hill.

  ‘There it is,’ he projected to Salinda, their mental link molding to the other’s grasp despite the distance.

  Through their bond, he felt her wings catch a thermal draft and the soothing warm ember that pressed against his mind, just as she felt every footstep. Salinda claimed that Phillip felt like a warm tangerine.

  ‘I’m going in.’

  The Crooked Nail Tavern, known for attracting and harboring armed rogues, slouched on the outskirts of a slowly yellowing forest. It was a seedy establishment across from an even seedier inn. Their weathered signs creaked in the wind.

  Phillip trekked forward and slipped inside. It was dank and dark with the stench of puke, piss, and spilled booze. At that moment, Phillip cursed his half-elf senses but was simultaneously thankful he could see in such dim candlelight.

  Inside was a cloister of humans, hobgoblins, drow, and half-orcs, the typical collection of miscreants, vagabonds, sellswords, and bandits, respectively. Rather unusually, they were huddled around a single, beer-laden table surrounded by dark gnomes. They were rare on the surface. Had his suspect acted alone? Was that his gang?

  Phillip eyed the crowd warily, but none noticed his presence as he sat at the bar despite his boots plopping across the sticky floor. He tossed a few coins on the counter, and a tankard of ale appeared soon after. Phillip pretended to drink it; he’d need his senses.

  “Ahahahaha!” A bald, blue-skinned gnome guffawed, his laughter cutting through the musty air as he stood atop his chair.

  He brandished a curved sword. An azure jewel pulsed within its ornate hilt, casting eerie shadows across his greedy blue face.

  “I’m telling you, boys, this here is the finest thing I ever nicked!” He decried, his weathered dome barely above the surrounding rabble.

  Phillip listened patiently. Another voice chimed in.

  “Tell ‘em how you got it again, Orget!”

  “Let’s just say…” The sword-wielding gnome grinned, revealing gold-capped teeth. “I found it on some poor bleeding bastard that didn’t need it no more.” A chorus of dark laughter followed.

  Phillip knew otherwise. It had been pilfered from a salesman. Unluckily for Orget, the merchant survived long enough to give Phillip a description. Leaving bodies in his wake, Orget turned out to be incredibly easy to find.

  ‘It’s him,” he confirmed to Salinda, feeling her acknowledgment.

  Phillip peeked over at the assortment of rogues, cutthroats, and rabble-rousers muttering among themselves while the gnome’s kin watched Orget with pride.

  “Heh,” Orget continued, emboldened by his audience. “I could dice up a Dragon Rider if I wanted!”

  Phillip cocked his eyebrow.

  “One swing of this—”

  Orget slashed the sword through the air.

  CRACK!

  He vanished with a flash of blue lightning and reappeared across the room in a shower of sparks. The miscreants flinched, spilling their drinks.

  “—And you’re done for!” Orget finished with a flourish, strutting back to his admirers. The tavern crackled with dissipating electricity. The static made their hair stand on end.

  “I can feel the magic!” One of the dullards exclaimed.

  Phillip rolled his eyes.

  “It’s a right powerful weapon!” Orget preened. “The bum I smacked last night didn’t know what hit him! You should’ve seen it—lopped one of the tiefling bastard’s horns right off! Show ‘em, Sven!”

  The gnome known as Sven procured a fragment of a black horn and held it up for the onlookers to inspect. They murmured appreciatively at the fine cut as it was passed around.

  “It was a weird yellow one, too,” Orget continued. “Never seen one of those before. Didn’t have nothing worth taking, though.”

  The rabble cajoled, utterly unaware of the hooded figure at the bar. Satisfied with the gnome’s admission of guilt, Phillip rose to his feet, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath him as he turned.

  “Oi!” His voice cut through the tavern’s din like a blade through silk. The room fell silent, all eyes drawn to Phillip. “Seems you’re the one I’ve been looking for.”

  “You lookin’ for trouble?” Orget replied with a sneer.

  “I’m looking for the one responsible for cutting down the travelers in this area.” Phillip pulled back his hood, revealing features mixed between elven grace and human hardiness. He glared at Orget with eyes that held the weight of someone who had seen far more than the gnome’s stolen magic. “So yes, I am looking for trouble. And I think I found it, right? Orget of Sandlin Deep?”

  The gnome’s brow furrowed.

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  “Who do you fink you is?” One of his cronies demanded.

  “I’m Phillip,” he replied calmly yet confidently. “A Dragon Rider.”

  Silence permeated the room as the rabble recoiled, their breath caught in their throats. The gnomes snuck their blades out, the surrounding rabble backed away, and contraband vanished into pockets. Phillip remained fixated on Orget.

  “You said you could take on a Dragon Rider,” Phillip said, keeping his tone conversational. “Let’s have a crack at it, shall we?”

  He stiffened, shifting his voice to a formal cadence. “By the authority of the Dragon Council and the law of the realm vested in me, I hereby charge you, Orget of Sandlin Deep, with the crimes of murder, harassment, and theft. Given the gravity of these charges and your hostile proclivities, I invoke your right to trial by combat. Do you accept these terms, or do you wish to face judgment before the Dragons’ Court, in which case you will be detained under the authority of the Dragon Riders, surrender your weapons, and submit to arrest.”

  Fear flashed across Orget’s face before he masked it with bravado.

  “Eh, don’t listen to his spiel, boys!” The gnome half-tittered. “He’s just another sellsword after my blade! You’ll fail like all the rest.” He wafted his enchanted sword toward the door. “Why don’t you leave while you still have legs to walk with.”

  “Resistance will be met with lethal force.” Phillip shifted his cloak, exposing the topaz-studded sword sheathed at his hip and snippets of his leather-padded armor.

  “You know this sword is magic, right?” Orget’s voice an octave higher, sweat beading on his bald pate. “I could cut you in two!” The other gnomes shifted, their knives held aloof.

  “We can do this inside or outside,” Phillip replied coldly.

  “Outside!” The barkeep demanded.

  Orget’s eyes fixed on the topaz set in Phillip’s sword hilt, his face twisting with greed.

  “Don’t be scared, boys!” Orget gestured at his fellow gnomes and cutthroats with renewed confidence. “A fool comes in here with a topaz that size; says he’s a Dragon Rider with no dragon.” He smirked, having elicited a few nervous chuckles. “I think we’ve got ourselves a mark! A gem like that could fetch all of us enough beer for the next five winters!”

  Phillip gripped the hilt of his sword as the seated gnomes hopped to the floor, brandishing their knives. Orget remained atop his chair while the greedier thugs drew their weapons and joined the gang.

  ‘Have fun,’ Salinda projected.

  “I said take it outside!” The bartender squawked.

  #

  CRACK!

  Phillip moved with preternatural speed, intercepting Orget just before the door. The gnome bounced off the Dragon Rider’s gore-spattered cloak and stumbled to the sticky, bloody floor. He gawped up at Phillip, consumed by dread and surrounded by the bodies of the fools confident enough to attack the Rider. The survivors were smart enough to back away.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Phillip’s voice dripped with malice. He felt Salinda’s presence meld with his own. “Don’t you want to see my dragon?” He grabbed Orget by the collar and threw him outside. The gnome tumbled in the dirt, Phillip stalking after him.

  THOOM!

  The ground shook as Salinda landed before Orget, her bronze scales rippling across her body. She thrust forth her fiery maw and bellowed in the petrified gnome’s face. Her thunderous roar shook Orget in terror. Tears, sweat, and piss poured off him as a barely contained flame flickered in Salinda’s throat.

  Orget produced a strange vibrato that was both a high-pitched and guttural scream. Eventually, Salinda relented. She reared her head, spewing flames skyward, then snapped her jaws shut.

  “Too scared to move?” Phillip chided from behind Orget. “Now you know how your victims felt.”

  Orget fell to his knees, trembling and hyperventilating. His stolen sword clattered against the packed earth.

  “No! Nonononononono!” Orget sputtered between gasps. “No, it’s not like that! I didn’t do anything! It was all just talk! I’d never hurt anybody! We gnomes are constantly worried for our safety! I bought this weapon for protection!”

  “That’s bullshit!” Phillip’s voice cracked like a whip over Orget’s constant babbling. “You stole that blade and murdered the owner!”

  “Nonononononono…”

  “You’ve used it to murder travelers and merchants!”

  “Nonononononono…”

  “Then you loot them and leave their bodies for the carrion!”

  “Nonononononono, it wasn’t me…”

  “Rise!” Phillip commanded.

  “Nonononononono, it wasn’t me! I didn’t do it!”

  “I’ll not strike a defenseless opponent. Let us begin your trial by combat!”

  Orget perked up.

  “Wait!” He huffed, twisting around, his hands raised and his voice desperate. “Council! Dragon Council! I wish for their judgment! Please! Judgement by Dragon Council, I beg you!”

  “A murderous thug begging for his life.” Phillip sneered. “How poetic.”

  “Please!” Orget clasped his hands together, pleading. “We gnomes are constantly oppressed by you big folk! Especially us dark gnomes! We live beneath the surface most our lives, and when we do come above ground, we’re shat on by you bigger folk! We have to strike first!”

  “Not against innocents!” Phillip roared. He knew gnomes often suffered from flagrant racism—he’d defended them more than once. But wanton murder was unacceptable.

  Orget continued to babble incoherently, pleading for the Dragon Council. Phillip couldn’t force him to trial by combat, and he couldn’t strike an unarmed, defenseless opponent. He glared at the tearful, pathetic gnome, sighed, flicked the blood from his blade, and sheathed it.

  “So be it.”

  Phillip strode past him to retrieve the shackles from the saddlebags on Salinda’s back.

  CRACK!

  Phillip twisted around, ripping his sword from its sheath as Orget blitzed forward, blade held wide. Phillip was faster. He cut through the gnome in one fluid swing. Orget fell to the ground with two sopping squelches.

  “Damn it!” Phillip grumbled, gazing up at Salinda.

  ‘I’m a fool,’ he projected.

  ‘You’re right,’ she replied. ‘You gave him too swift a death!’

  ‘I should’ve disarmed him first,’ he continued, ignoring her attempt at levity. ‘I wasn’t thinking. Hell, I should’ve just used magic to summon the shackles.’

  ‘If I thought he posed a real threat, I would’ve snapped him up.’ Salinda’s reassuring warmth spread through Phillip’s chest.

  ‘Still, I shouldn’t be so careless,’ he thought, bending to pull the enchanted blade from the dead gnome’s grasp. Electricity still crackled in the air. ‘I got too comfortable.’

  Phillip looked down at his bloody blade and gore-spattered robe.

  ‘I’m a mess.’

  ‘Pitiful boy,’ Salinda teased, lowering her head to nudge him with her snout. ‘Another criminal has been brought low by your blade. You should be proud!’

  ‘No, it has to be a flawless victory. I made too many mistakes!’ Phillip cleaned his blade, sheathed it once again, and examined the stolen sword and its pulsing gem.

  ‘Live and learn.’ Salinda said with warm finality, her tone offering no room for argument. She gestured to the sword with her snout, changing the subject.

  ‘What are you going to do with that?’.

  ‘I’m not sure yet,’ he admitted with a sigh as he approached Salinda and secured the sword to the saddlebag.

  Phillip took a steadying breath to calm his nerves. He pondered as he began to drag the other fallen combatants in the tavern out beside Orget, ignoring the bewildered, fear-stricken rabble.

  What would he do with the sword? Maybe he could track down the slain merchant’s family. But would they want the weapon that killed its owner? According to the merchant, it was a recently enchanted blade, not a fabled one; it didn’t belong in a museum. Selling it seemed…scummy. The Dragon Rider smiths may have use for it. Or maybe…Phillip’s chest grew hot, and his cheeks flushed as he dropped the last body beside the others.

  ‘The enchantment seems to stem from the jewel in the hilt,’ he projected, unperturbed by his morbid work. ‘Meredith may be interested in studying it.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re looking for reasons to visit Meredith?’ Salinda chided humorously.

  ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Phillip conceded with a slight shrug and grin.

  Salinda knew his heart. Meredith made him happy in ways no other had. Phillip turned to Salinda and bounded onto the saddle on her back with practiced ease.

  “Let’s go.”

  Faces gawked from the inn’s windows and the tavern’s doorway as Salinda set fire to the corpses. She leaped into the sky, leaving the patrons of the Crooked Nail Tavern with quite a tale.

  Note the yellow tiefling! I've been cooking up a new story involving such a being!