Page 37 of The Ballad of the Last Dragon
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I breathe in the heady aroma of sweat and ale. The tavern in Astervale is our last stay, our last chance to spread word of Aeron and leave our mark on history. We’ve come full circle, and it’s only appropriate that our final stop is the one place Aeron made it to. Cadoc, Neith, and Jaromir all sit in the center table, watching me with reassuring expressions.
We’ve done right by him. I’ve done right by him.
We might not have lost him to a dragon, but it feels that way. We carried him with us each day. Words and memories, there’s power in them. It kept Aeron alive enough that this feels like the true goodbye.
First Fruits day has come and gone, along with the summer season. The last time we were here, red banners hung from wood beams and yellow ribbons wrapped around each pole. Now, burgundy fabrics drape delicately above the bar. Small pumpkins and bumpy gourds adorn the tabletops in a bold proclamation of the impending Harvest Day. Outside, the air has more of a bite, but in here the fires are warm and the drinks are flowing. Camaraderie fills the tavern with a generous spirit of belonging, and it doesn’t feel like a farewell to summer so much as welcoming the shift in season.
I adjust my cap, and begin to pluck the familiar tune, the one I’ve been playing in every tavern we stay in, in the privacy of every inn Jaromir and I have paid to sleep in, by the fire of our camp each night.
The ballad of the last dragon. The ballad of Sir Aeron.
“ Sir Aeron had the heart of a warrior and the mercy of a saint
With warmth that rivaled the sun and drove darkness away
Man or beast of evil intent fell to his sword, fell to his sword
He brought us deliverance, mark my words, mark my words
He felled poisonous creatures of malicious intent
Spared no killer, and no earthly threat
I rode along by his side and saw with my own eyes
The depth of his courage and the strength inside
The tale of our quest is not one that’s short
So if you’ve the patience, and offer no retort
I’ll recount to you our journey though it stretches on
For we are not finished, we’ve adventures beyond…”
My gaze travels over the crowd, arresting on Jaromir. He offers me a soft smile and a dip of his chin. He’s here with me, as are the others. Here in this moment where everything comes to fruition. Cadoc has placed Aeron’s scorched armor, the chest plate we held over our very own campfire, on the table. He rests his hand loosely upon it, tracing the grooves bordering its design. Neith lifts her tankard, and my gaze catches on the dragon tooth she wears around her neck. It’s fitting that she should be the one to carry it.
“When Aeron stared down the dragon, sword in hand
I saw the glimmer in his eye, and knew his intent
He shot me a wink, and in passing he said
‘Sing of me and offer no tears for the dead.’
The dragon roared, erupting its flames
Aeron surged forward, ending life’s claim
Taking the dragon to embrace death’s arms
Two lives ended, two souls gone
He met his match that fateful day
But his honor lives on if we speak his name
So, drink to his memory if he were here, he would say
The drinks are on me, this joyous day
Through whispers of time, listen for my call
I’ll always be with you, you’ll hear my song
In the way shadows dance by firelight
Or the sun rises and sets, giving way to night
Farewell is not farewell, in the end
But a promise to meet once more
For where stories end, they begin anew
So instead of farewell, I’ll say to you
Until we meet again.”
There’s a weightlessness in my chest, a joyful buoyancy even as a glimmer of grief settles in my stomach.
It is done. Aeron’s ballad is through. Judging by the teary expressions in the crowd, and the way some of them sang along with the familiar parts, we achieved our goal.
Jaromir’s arm slips around my shoulder, and he presses a kiss to my sweaty forehead, knocking my hat out of the way. “You were wonderful.”
My heart fills at his words, but I toss an aggrieved expression his way. “Wonderful? Is that it? I wasn’t spectacular? Life-changing? Stupefying or prodigious?”
He fixes me with his hardest look—the one that used to convince me of his hatred and now only serves the impulse to shove him into a private alcove and ravish him. Judging by the way his eyes darken, I’d wager he senses the turn in my thoughts. “I’ll show you how much I enjoyed your performance later. Especially since you didn’t sing of my cursed prick again.”
Oh… there’s an idea. “I’ve been working on that one, actually. Added a few stanzas I’m sure you’ll appreciate.”
“Don’t make me take you over my knee.”
As if that’s a threat.
The server bustles over, none other than the red-haired beauty from the last time we were here. I wag my brows at Jaromir, poking and nudging him with conspicuity. He pulls me closer, trapping my wandering hands from making too much of a scene.
The woman smiles softly, no hint of discomfort or ill will, and sets the meat pie down in the middle of our table with four plates and forks.
“It’s on the house,” she says.
My mouth waters, stomach growling as the smell of corned beef, cabbage, carrots, and potatoes waft on the steam rising from the buttery crust.
“Hmm… I must have left a lasting impression.” Jaromir’s words rip me from my appreciation of the meal, and I whip my stare to find his face looking far too innocent. His mouth twitches, revealing the amusement he finds in his own joke.
Neith claims her chair, having just ventured to the bar, and interrupts what I’m sure would have been a worthy retaliation on my part.
“They’re putting it up now.” She gestures over her shoulder where the barkeep is hammering a large nail into the wall. He reaches for Aeron’s chest plate, hanging it and stepping back to examine his work.
We all fall silent, staring at the last piece of Aeron adorning the tavern wall. His bright, and gleaming chest plate, marred by scorch marks and tarnished by the road.
“Should we have polished it?” Cadoc’s voice is soft and unsure, almost lost to the din of noise.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “It serves his purpose better that we didn’t. It lends credibility to his tale.”
Cadoc nods, not tearing his eyes from the sight.
Neith elbows him. “It would have driven Aeron crazy t’see it in such a state.”
An unrestrained smile dawns Cadoc’s face. “Remember how he used to wake up early just to make the damned thing shine? I told him, it was going to get dirty and not to waste his effort. But each morning, sure as the sun rising, he was out there, polishing away.”
Neith laughs into her tankard. “Aye, I remember. He was th’same as a wee bairn. Meticulous with his armor care.”
“You should have seen him when I first trained him with the sword,” Jaromir says, shaking his head. “He spent more time whetting than thrusting.”
“I’m sure there’s a filthy joke in there somewhere…” My words dissolve into a shriek when Jaromir’s teeth graze my neck in a playful bite.
As Cadoc cuts into the meat pie, steam billowing from where he slices through the brown crust, Neith clears her throat.
“I’m going te write Arnorr about this. About… Aeron’s tale, and I’m going te ask him t’put up a memorial for him in their family crypt. I might even venture there maself t’see it done.”
I nod, pushing too-hot potato slices around my plate. It’s another disappointment in the big picture, the idea that Aeron never had a chance to reunite with his family and reinstate his honor in his lifetime. But if we can give him this posthumously, we’ve achieved all he wanted. Everything he whispered to me in that sickroom, when he was recovering from the arrow wound in his chest.
I hope by the grace of the goddess he can see everything we’ve done, everything his name carries, what it means to us all. That he can see he never needed his family’s blessing.
“Be sure to stop by The Laughing Goat whenever you swing through Bucklebrook. Tomas and I will be thrilled to see you.”
Cadoc’s letter writing campaign has forged some impenetrable bonds between the two of them. When we stopped by Bucklebrook, they were inseparable and even ended the visit with a teary goodbye. I’m glad he can return now that our job is done, and never have to worry about leaving Tomas behind again. A strange and beautiful thought, considering his former discomfort with staying in one place very long. Now it seems his wish is to plant roots and forever remain by Tomas’ side.
But still… The Laughing Goat Tavern ?
“You sure you’re attached to that name? You have a chance to reinvigorate your venue.”
Cadoc gives me a secret smile as he sips from his tankard. “Don’t you worry about me and our tavern. We have big plans.”
It’s as much of an answer I’m going to get for now. I’ll have to see it in person. The thought sends a thrill through me. We have no fixed destination anymore, we can go anywhere, do anything. The world has suddenly expanded, limits dissolving into spaces of time in which I can achieve anything.
“What about you?” I turn to Jaromir, spearing one of my steaming potatoes. “What’s your next move?”
I thought all I wanted was fame and glory. To be untouchable by any who might deem me lesser. To rise above my status, and never let my ears define me again. My wish has always been accompanied by the fantasy of never going hungry, never wondering where I might rest my head, or what might await me as soon as I let my guard down. But never in my wildest dreams have I imagined this feeling. This trust and hope and want for a lasting life. A simple wish that feels anything but simple. It’s everything.
Jaromir’s gaze softens, holding me in place as he studies me. “I’ll follow you anywhere. Point to a spot on the map, and we’ll go.” He leans forward, brushing my nose with his. “So long as I’m with you, I’m home.”
I press a soft kiss to his perfect mouth, euphoria washing over me. When I pull back, I plop the potato in my mouth and sigh, letting it fill my cheek as I sate my hungry belly.
“Well, then, my heart, I have a few places in mind.”