“Can she go a little faster?” - Niko asked, looking at Ogi’s mare.

“Are you in a rush? Do you think there’s a line of people to the river waiting to have their shot at the dragon? Treasure your last moments in this land, boy. It’s insane enough that I agreed to travel with you at night. Do you know what kind of people are not behind the city gates come nightfall?”

“Ogi, we’re riding out to fight a dragon. If we lose our minds over bandits, what does that say about us.” - Jassen said.

“It’s not just bandits around here, boy. There are beasts you can’t even imagine in the forests nearby.”

“Yeah? Are there any legends about them too? Maybe we should go hunt them too after the dragon.”

“You joke, but there are legends about wolves three times the size of a man.”

“What do they tell, these legends?” - Bozmaroff asked, opening his mouth for the second time today.

Ogi continued to tell them about every myth he could remember. Every odd rumor or whisper said in a tavern. He told them about the wolves that spoke like men, about a family of nobles who lived for hundreds of years, so powerful that Morana herself didn’t dare touch them. The blacksmith told him everything he knew of the long-lost times when gods and spirits walked the land.

It was the gods who helped the rulers build our cities. They turned a nomadic people into a nation. The gods replaced the tents with walls of stone. Once you settle, you forget the lifestyle of a raider. You need to grow, you need to take care, and you need patience. They taught them all that. Grew crops for them until they learned to sow and lead their armies against the imperials until the pillagers were turned into soldiers.

Then they were betrayed. Man learned to rule and thought he was a god. But his touch doesn’t make a tree blossom. His yell doesn’t put fire in his soldier’s blood. His look doesn’t destroy people’s minds in fear. There’s little left from the times of glory. The golden age. Only the walls of stone around the cities will stand forever as a monument of the past, even when the people inside are no longer there to protect.

“That city you’ll see tomorrow, Nava. It’s a prime example of our ambition and greed. We wanted to see how far we could go on our own, and it cost us dearly. Thousands of lives were lost on that day, and no one knows how many more when they tried to retake the city. The legend says it happened in the middle of the night. A flame-like nothing man has ever seen engulfed the city, melting rock and flesh alike.”

“People woke up from a wave of screams that died off as the inferno reached them. Only when everything was burning and everything was alight could the few survivors see the cause of this demise. A black shape flew in the sky above, carried by its giant wings of terror. Its scales glinting against the light of the fire, its mouth full of a thousand swords. Those that escaped saw it land on top of the keep, reveling in the destruction it caused, its roar so loud it silenced the screams of the dying. In the end, no one could even hear the last words of the people they loved.”

“This never would have happened if the gods were still here, some said. Maybe they were right. If the hell the black cloaks speak about exists, then this here was a glimpse of it.” - the blacksmith continued.

When Ogi was over, they were far away from Rhana, and the moon shined in place of the sun. They walked, pulling the horses by their reins. It kept them awake, and it eased the soreness from the hours of riding. Ogi and Jassen walked in front, each one chewing something. A perfectly cut piece of bread for the blacksmith and dried meat for Dreamer’s new owner. While the bread melted like honey, the dead flesh was hard to chew, making the man suck on it instead.

“You are quite the wordsmith, Ogi. If your swords are half as good as your tales, then I have nothing to worry about.” - Jassen said

“It’s not about the tale but the teller. It’s not about the sword but the hand that holds it.” - answered the blacksmith.

“Bozmaroff there would gladly steal your tales.” - Jassen continued.

“Make sure he steals the wisdom in them, too. The story is just a holder.”

“Patrol coming our way. Six men.” - Olena interrupted them.