"I'm leading you to salvation," Aniolon replied, finally turning to look at the man.
"We can defeat these hired wizards," the old man insisted.
"The wyrm is one, the rajah's hirelings are many… too many," Aniolon said, stepping away from the woman.
"What could we possibly offer this dragon for its help?" the old man inquired.
"We will offer it treasure, or whatever else may interest it," Aniolon replied with a wave of his hand.
Aniolon turned and shouted to the working townspeople,
"We are off, friends! Pray to Lliira and Sharess that I will find our way to freedom!"
Those around the wizard shared a concerned glance at his exclusion of anyone other than himself in his declaration. A cheer rose from the crowd. Some of the people waved, others shouted phrases of well-wishing to the departing group, and still others simply took the opportunity to rest themselves.
Aniolon stared on as some of the people opted for more pleasurable endeavors during their break. He watched as a short man and a young woman many years his junior embraced, kissing deeply. Their hands explored one another, each slowly divesting the other's body of its minimal clothing. Many of the townsfolk stopped to watch the two lovers, some of them forming their own pairs or groups to pursue similar activities. Aniolon drank in the view before him and grinned. A scene like the one unfolding before him would have been akin to heresy in Estagund, he knew.
He had found these people and they had showed him a different way of living. In turn, he had promised to lead them to a place where they could practice their religions and lifestyles as they saw fit, free from Estagund's so-called noble rulers. All it had cost them was to include him in their ways. Aniolon had to admit to enjoying the deference these people offered. That was pleasant, indeed, he thought. He had railed against the tyrannical rulers of Estagund in his speeches to them, inspiring them to ask him to lead them. Freedom was precious, after all.
One of the other men standing near him tapped him on the shoulder. Aniolon nodded, sighing softly as he turned away from the lustful vista before him to leave on his journey. Leadership was a harsh burden, he decided.
Aniolon and those he had selected to accompany him arrived at the beast's lair a few hours after they had departed. The magically granted flight had made the trip rather expeditious. With him were two warriors formerly of Estagund, two priests of Lliira, the priestess of Sharess, and the old wizard who had joined her in questioning Aniolon's plan.
The imp that Aniolon had summoned days before, a devious little creature by the name of Quiono, had told him the whereabouts of the dragon and had warned him that the lair would be magically defended. Aniolon had expected no less. He and the old wizard inspected the entrance to the cavern. Much to their surprise, they could find no evidence of any active magical traps or barriers.
They entered, finding a single, large tunnel with walls so perfectly smooth that they could not have been naturally formed. Aniolon wondered how the dragon had carved them so perfectly. Magic? Dwarf slaves? The young wizard would pity any such workers. Fealty to something in which one does not believe deteriorates one's very being. Aniolon strode onward, more resolved than ever. They followed the tunnel for a long while as it twisted erratically, leading them ever downward.
Never in his hundreds of years of life, had a living human entered Gerinvioch's lair. True, a lich had once come in search of a stash of enchanted sapphires for some grand spell, but liches were hardly living. With the proper application of spells of controlling, however, they made excellent guardians for a lair such as this. Gerinvioch mentally dismissed the wards and measures of protection leading into his den, including the annoyingly incessant one that had alerted him to the presence of the intruders in the first place. Excellent indeed, but annoying nevertheless.
Motivation for their intrusion was obvious. The wyrm glanced around his home, the sparkle of the many treasures reflecting in his eyes from their piles. Humans and their greed. Gerinvioch shook his head and prepared himself for a bit of merriment.
Seven? Only seven of these visitors, Gerinvioch thought. It was insulting. He could smell their filth and knew they would be within view at the mouth of his cavern at any moment. The great blue wyrm set his front legs firmly and craned his thick neck. The scales covering his body verily hummed with power and a familiar smell emanating from his own body filled his nostrils. The invaders rounded the final corner and were, at last, in view. He doubted they could see him as well in the murkiness of his home.
He opened his mouth and released the lightning that could accompany his breath. The energy poured from his throat and pulsed past his lips. It was invigorating.
The humans were ill prepared for the assault, as expected. Only one was spared. The tiny man had somehow managed to leap away, finding shelter in the deep shadows behind a stalagmite.
Another of the creatures was on the ground, smoke rising from his robes, but quite alive, no doubt thanks to an enchantment of some sort. A red-haired woman writhed in the last few moments of silent agony against the wall of the cave, while two other corpses stared blankly at the ceiling of the cavern, their clothing melted to their skin. The remaining two humans were no more than heaps of indistinguishable charred flesh.
"Please! We have come to talk! We do not wish to hurt you!" the human who had avoided the blast cried from behind the rock.
Gerinvioch advanced toward him slowly, wearing an amused countenance. "Help us," the man whimpered.
"Help?" the dragon replied, intrigued and bewildered at the same time. "Come out."
The man emerged, crawling on hands and knees. His face reminded Gerinvioch of a coin, it was so perfectly round. His robes and other accoutrements identified him as a wizard.
"Please. Help my town and…" the wizard sputtered and continued, "me. You must help my town."
The wyrm peered closely at the man. "You came to ask for help?"
"Yes. M-my name is Aniolon Gruanthe," he stuttered, rising to his feet. "We-we cannot stop them. You must help us."
"Who is it you cannot stop?" Gerinvioch asked, pacing around the shaking man. The human winced with each echoing impact of footsteps. This was quite easily the most unusual and amusing event Gerinvioch had experienced in many years.
"Estagund… hunters from Estagund. Sent by the rajah himself."
"You want me to fight them for you?"
The man nodded, his head looking as though it might fall off at any moment.
A long silence dwindled between them and the human finally continued, "We could offer you treasure. We could even mine the mountains for you."
"Why not simply flee?" the dragon asked, still pacing.
"No! They must not have it!" the man said, as his head shook violently.
Gerinvioch stopped his pacing and grinned. "What is it in this town that you covet so?"
"The town itself. There is nothing of value in it," the wizard replied. Much to his own surprise, the dragon believed the man. "Other than the treasure we would like to offer you, of course," the man said, pursing his lips and casting his eyes to the ground.
Well, half-truths were better than no truths, Gerinvioch thought.
"This town of yours is near here, I presume. Long have I been asleep else it would never have been built," the dragon said more to himself than to the man. "Why should I not simply go and destroy it myself?" he added, looking directly at the man.
"No!" Aniolon shouted, panting hard. "Please, do not do that. It is my dream." "Oh? And what is it that insects dream of?" "Freedom," the man said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Freedom? That is what you lust after so desperately?" The human only nodded.
Gerinvioch almost laughed at the word. Freedom. What could that mean to a human? Perhaps there was a way to find out, the wyrm thought. It was hard to keep from smiling.