Jarik fidgeted in his saddle. “How much further is it?”
Arlin spoke from the lead of the group. “We’ll get there some time tomorrow. I thought your kind was supposed to have an even and patient temperament.”
Firae laughed. “That would be his human side showing its true colors. I, on the other hand, am thoroughly enjoying the ride. We don’t see mountain foothills and sweeping fields like those back in Mallvrann. As beautiful as lush forests are, a change of view can be inspiring.
“Rumor has it a dragon resides in this area,” Gaston boasted of local legends. “Farmers often complain of livestock gone missing. Tracks of wolves or other creatures have never found around the found scraps of bone and blood. My father has led many expeditions out here, but every time they have come up empty.”
“Those are tales mothers tell sons to keep them from wandering too far away from home. The queen would have never ordered us to travel across these lands if there were such a beast hidden away in the mountains.” Miirik said.
Jarik’s ears perked up at the mention of dangerous creatures. “Even the tallest of tails has a grain of truth. I would like to see a dragon, slay it, and take a trophy to hang over my mantle after I buy lands with its treasure.”
“Treasure or not, I wouldn’t want to run into a dragon,” Firae said, “at least not until I’ve had time to perfect my magical studies. I’ve heard legends of large old dragons who would roll in armies for fun. Steel weapons were unable to pierce the thick hide.”
“Maybe not human steel or elven mithril, but dwarven steel is sturdy enough to slice into any beast’s hide.” Thothen said between drinks from his flask.
“Speaking of dwarves, how did you end up in Catheldor,” Firae asked.
“There are many reasons as to why I am here. Where shall I begin?” Thothen stroked his beard.