“What is that?” Ida asked, peering up into the clear night sky.

  A shape moved up there, blocking out the twinkling lights. The sound returned, and then again. Louder and faster as the dark shape grew.

  Vidar frowned, repeating her question, “What is that?”

  The whoops and shouts that rang throughout Andersburg fell silent as the shape blacking out the stars descended.

  “We have to get a better look,” Ida said, glancing up toward the rooftops.

  “You’re in no condition to climb. Neither am I.”

  She didn’t listen. Instead, Ida approached a stack of crates next to a low one-story house.

  “I have to see,” Ida said as he approached. “You’re not going to let me climb up on a roof all by myself, are you? It’d be real stupid allowing someone as hurt as me alone onto a slippery roof.”

  Vidar sighed and followed, straining his already-tired body to reach for icy handholds. He’d used a lot of essence in the jail, but his arms were no longer numb. Tired. He was just so tired. Like Ida, though, he really wanted a better look.

  “Cursed darkness,” he muttered once they were up on the roof. The shape, whatever it was, was nowhere to be seen. They’d missed it.

  Ida approached a second house. This one was two stories and sat conveniently connected with the first. An easy climb. “Let’s go higher. It might come back.”

  “What is it?” Vidar asked, breathing hard but following without complaint.

  She scrambled over the top and out of sight, then returned, holding out her hand for help. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s big!”

  In the distance, someone cried out. A wail rose over the rooftops, along with a lot of cursing. Most people were out in the street now, their faces turned to the sky. From their vantage, they could at least get a good look at the citizens of Rat Town as they congregated out in the cold.

  That flapping sound returned again. Louder this time.

  “It’s back,” Vidar said, pulling his coat close around him to shield against the cold as he scanned the sky.

  They moved to the edge of the second building, where an ornamental piece of blackened metal rose out of a flat surface. A perfect place to perch on the otherwise slanted roof.

  “I think it’s wings,” Ida whispered, her breath coming out in a small but billowing cloud before her.

  “Nothing has wings that big,” Vidar replied, most of his attention fixed on the stars, hoping to see the shape blocking them out again.

  At least it was a clear night. With clouds overhead and snow in the air, no one would’ve been able to see a thing.

  “You’re wrong.”

  He glanced down at her. “Yeah? What, then?”

  Something enormous hurtled through the air right above the rooftops, forcing them both to their knees to huddle against each other. The sound that followed it was deafening, almost like a continuous thunderclap.

  Vidar thought he’d seen something. A clawed foot. But no, he must have been mistaken. It’d been too big, inconceivably so. Enormous.

  Ida cried out in fright as it passed above them before taking to the air again, but stood back up right after. “There is something!”

  “What?” Vidar shouted back. But he knew. They all knew, even if it couldn’t be so.

  A fiery onslaught of death pummeled into the city as screams erupted anew. Flames lit the night air and revealed the monster that’d come to bring about the end of humanity.

  “Dragon,” Vidar muttered the word as he stood frozen, watching a street nearby going up in flames.

  It was as if his quiet word, spoken only to himself, echoed throughout Andersburg.

  “Dragon!” they shouted, despair hanging on the word. Death had come to Halmstadt, death out of stories, out of myth. It couldn’t be. The legends weren’t true. Dragons did not exist. But here it was.

  An enormous scaled head hung low as it dove through the air and let out a shriek, followed by another bout of unrelenting fire that swallowed entire streets in a single fiery inferno.

  “It-it can’t be,” Vidar said, turning to Ida as he pointed to the sky. “They aren’t real!”

  Even in her face, he saw the city going up in flames. A warm light reflected on her skin, flames in the glint of her one eye.

  Ida licked her lips. “What do we do?”

  Someone ran past the house, a man by the shape, burning. The wail coming from him made Vidar shudder, and he was almost glad when it cut off, the poor man dying even as he ran, collapsing into the snow.

  “I don’t know,” Vidar whispered.

  The beast, enormous, swooped past again. It was closer this time, its hind legs even touching the odd building, immediately destroying them. Its giant wings looked like they might span half the width of Rat Town, too huge to comprehend.

  Dragon. It was a dragon. Vidar frowned as the thing momentarily set down on the ground, turning. Even at this distance, from up on that roof, he saw as it scratched the ground with its powerful legs, throwing up snow, stone, and dirt. It released a bout of flame, then took to the air again with a shriek.

  The scales were a reddish brown that almost appeared to smolder, but perhaps that was just the fiery light illuminating them. In the night, making out more detail was impossible, but it was enough. The dragon’s maw was filled with teeth that must’ve been as long as a man’s arm. He’d seen that much, seen the fire come out of its mouth.

  Dragon. He’d seen a dragon. Almost been killed by it, and the night wasn’t over. Several streets were burning. People were dying or having all their possessions ruined. For the moment, the beast was flying away, back up into the sky.

  Vidar frowned. No, that wasn’t it. It was gaining altitude to cross over the inner wall. The night erupted with flames again as the keep itself, the bastion of strength in Halmstadt, came under assault. Even standing on a roof, he couldn’t see that far away, and the city sloped up in that direction, putting him lower than even the start of the wall. It was only the size of the keep, and the fire licking its stone walls, that clued him in to what was happening.

  “It’s attacking the keep,” Vidar breathed.

  Ida looked away from the whole thing.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  Vidar turned and saw a figure up on the roof with them, blocking their path back down. A rush of energy surged through Vidar’s body, but it quickly subsided when he recognized the man.

  “Lytir,” he said.

  Lytir bowed. “You followed my advice, little scribe. A boon for us all on this dreaded night of fire.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “A dragon soars across your sky and you ask of what I speak?”

  “Who is this?” Ida asked.

  Vidar gestured toward Lytir. “It’s Lytir. You must’ve seen him around? He’s been out on the street here since forever.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  She shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  “He’s harmless. Just a little strange.”

  His words did not help her relax, and he saw her ready posture. It looked like she would either attack or flee. The way her eyes darted to the sides of the slanted roof, fleeing looked the likelier option.

  “Look at his face, Vidar. Is that the face of a harmless man?”

  Vidar did look then. With the attack on Halmstadt and his bone-tiredness, he hadn’t noticed. Ida’s wariness made sense, looking at Lytir now. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes, a fire of his own, ready to burst. The placid smile on his face was gone, replaced by a toothy grin that did not reach the rest of his face. He stood straight, shoulders back. Vidar wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Lytir stand tall before, and was amazed at the vagrant’s impressive height. Come to think of it, there was little about him that painted him as a vagrant, not anymore. Even the joyful, slightly mocking tone of his voice was gone.

  “The dragons have come. The harbingers,” Lytir said, his voice as intense as his eyes.

  Vidar swallowed hard. “Harbingers of what, Lytir?”

  In the far distance, the dragon shrieked. Only then did the warning bells begin to toll throughout the city, like Halmstadt had been frozen in time before. The guardsmen were stuck in their own terror.

  “Worse,” Lytir said simply. He continued, “Take care, little scribe. Learn and grow. Do not throw your life away.”

  Ida shouted in terror then and pointed to a fire ravaging one of the nearby streets. “Siv!”

  “What?” Vidar asked, following the direction of her fingers.

  Edna’s inn, his room, was engulfed in flames.

  “No!” he shouted, stepping forward. “Out of the way, Lytir!”

  “Little scribe,” Lytir began, but Vidar cut him off.

  “Not now!”

  Vidar’s urgency seemingly amused the vagrant, whose eyes glittered as he nodded. “Very well. Just a word of caution, then. Beware of shadows. A hand reached out for alms may soon find itself sacrificed. Be safe.”

  With that, he slid down the roof to Vidar’s right and disappeared over the edge. He didn’t hear the man landing on anything at all and saw no trace of him on the street.

  “You should stay away from that man,” Ida said, hurrying past to descend to the street.

  Vidar followed. “He’s not usually like this. I don’t know what happened.”

  “A dragon happened, Vidar! A dragon burned down half of Andersburg! That’s what!”

  “Right,” he said, feeling stupid. She hadn’t really answered his question, but what she’d said needed saying. There were more important things happening around them at that moment.

  From the intermittent bouts of flames rising over the city in the distance, the dragon still assaulted the keep. Bells tolled, people screamed in pain or anguish. None of that was as important as their destination.

  Their feet struck the ground, and both set off in the direction of Edna’s inn, running toward the flames. Houses burned all around them and they were forced to go the long way around several times when they were unable to withstand the heat. Even in the cold and the wet of winter, it all burned. Only stone withstood the flames of the dragon. Everything else succumbed. Edna’s inn was a building constructed with timber and thatch.

  Finally, they arrived.

  Ida screamed at the top of her lungs as loud as her panting lungs allowed. “Siv!”

  “Siv!” Vidar joined in.

  The entire building was a wreck. Nothing remained but the platform of stone on which the building was once built. Buildings all around it burned as well. The entire street was struck by the dragon’s flames. Those buildings touched by the fiery breath of that flying monster were so fully demolished there was nothing left. It’d all already burned, while the surrounding houses were still aflame.

  It allowed Vidar to approach. Everything was still hot and smoldering, but he braved the warmth. Even in Andersburg, the main streets were wide and built with stone. This meant he didn’t have to worry too much about his retreat. The way back was clear as long as debris didn’t fall from the houses.

  People were running back and forth with buckets of water or screaming for their loved ones. All of them, including Vidar and Ida, were covered in a thick layer of soot and grime from the fires. Breathing through the smoke proved difficult and it made Vidar’s head feel lightheaded, forcing him to stop every couple of steps.

  The spreading flames threatened to eat the entire neighborhood. They would already have done so if not for the snow keeping everything wet. With everyone working together, they might still save some of the affected buildings. Vidar didn’t give a damn about other people’s houses. His own building had just burned down.

  Ida followed him into the ruined building and they both gingerly stepped over bits and pieces of Edna’s life and livelihood, searching through the rubble. Eventually they made it to the part of the house where Vidar’s room would’ve been if it still existed.

  “Siv!” Ida shouted again, but it was no use. If that girl had been asleep in this room when the dragon swooped in from the sky, she was long gone.

  Something tickled his nose as he kicked a small bit of what might’ve been a bedframe, cursing at the sky. Fire bellowed upward far in the distance, but the roar of the surrounding fires shut out any hope of hearing the dragon.

  Vidar didn’t care. He pointed in the direction of the keep and screamed at the top of his lungs. “Damn you, dragon! I’ll get you for this. You owe me in silver and runes, and I’ll come collect! You’ll rue this day! Mark my words!”

  “Vidar!” Ida shouted, her voice thick with what he interpreted as grief.

  “No!” he shouted, not looking back. “That beast will pay with its life for this! I don’t care what I’ll have to do. I’ll kill it!”

  “No, Vidar!”

  He turned around then, irritation at her insistence gnawing through his rage. “What?”

  Siv.

  The young girls were nestled in a tight embrace, both sisters crying tears of joy rather than sadness.

  He hurried up to them. “Siv!”

  They opened their embrace and wrapped him in with them, the three of them holding on to each other. The three of them stayed like that for a good long while, not moving until the smoke grew intolerable.

  On the way out of the rubble and back onto the street, Ida spoke and Siv’s hands blurred as her fingers jumped from gesture to gesture in that strange language of hers.

  “She says thank you for rescuing me, Vidar.”

  He waved it away. “Did the dragon wake her up or something?”

  Ida turned to her sister, who shook her head and wrinkled her nose, moving her hands in answer.

  “She says she left well before then. Couldn’t stand the stench in your room anymore.”

  “What stench?” he asked, then his eyes widened, and he whirled around to run back into the remains of the building.

  He breathed in deep through his nose, then doubled over coughing from the smoke and smell of the burnt and the burning. Once Vidar got himself under control, he could smell his surroundings in a more controlled manner. He’d placed it under the bed and yes, the smell grew more pungent as he kicked through the rubble, digging down through the debris of two floors and a roof that’d collapsed on top of it all.

  “What are you doing?” Ida shouted from behind him, but he ignored her. It was in there somewhere. It had to be. The fallen angels or whoever it was that looked out for the people of Sveland couldn’t be so cruel as to destroy it. That’d be too much.

  Vidar bent down and dug out the rest of the ash, half-melted and twisted, but now somewhat cooled metal and other unidentifiable artifacts of destruction from the dragon’s rampage. His nose stung with the sharp smell and his eyes teared up.

  There!

  Vidar grabbed it without thinking, pulling it out of the empty, warped metal bowl. The vinegar was long gone, evaporated, but the padlock remained. It was warm to the touch but undamaged. The padlock survived when almost everything else had perished.

  Siv and Ida peered over his shoulder.

  “A lock? You’re a strange one, aren’t you, Vidar?”

  He nodded as he rubbed vigorously at its surface with the sleeve of his coat. Siv was unhurt and hale. For that he was grateful, but everything else was gone. He didn’t have a thing to his name anymore. Nothing. Nothing except for his knowledge of runes and this padlock. The vinegar must’ve worked, because the fabric of his coat turned reddish and brown as the stuff came right off.

  Tears welled up in his eyes, no doubt from the smoke and smell of vinegar, as pure gray and shining metal showed through the rust. A moment later, the symbol presented itself. The painted lines were long gone, but the groves dug into the metal remained.

  So simple. Three lines, with one going straight down and the other two coming in diagonally from the top to form a new runic character.

  Vidar thought back to that day in the snow. His anger at the world and his own circumstances as he threw his weight behind the shovel to break the padlock. It was all that stood between him and the warmth inside. He thought of the off-blue but almost fully transparent layer between the metal of his shovel and the rusted, half-broken-down lock. A shield. No, a barrier.

  He’d discovered a barrier rune. A third new rune after hundreds, if not thousands, of years of people using nothing but warmth, light, and chill runes.

  The church couldn’t have known. If they knew they were in possession of such an old thing, they would not have risked using it somewhere anyone might stumble upon it. Also, if they did know, the thing would’ve been fully rejuvenated.

  “What are you mumbling about?” Ida asked. “It’s time to leave, fool! If the winds change, who knows what the fire will do?”

  Vidar sucked in saliva as he stood, apparently having been salivating at the thought of this new rune in his possession. “Oh, nothing. Yes, I agree. We should leave.”

  They stood looking at each other for a moment.

  “Where can we go?” Vidar asked.

  Siv straightened her back and assumed an imperious look before moving her hands down from the top of her head, following her short hair before extending her fingers down to, Vidar assumed, indicate longer hair.

  “You want us to go crawling back to Embla?” Ida asked.

  Siv shrugged, then hugged herself, shivering.

  “Got a better idea?” Vidar asked.

  Ida crossed her arms across her chest, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not going back to sewing. Let’s find an empty house away from the fires.”

  “You want to break into another house after what we’ve been through today?”

  “That was a fluke. We won’t get caught this time.” She pointed uptown, at the keep. “The guardsmen will have been called in to serve with the soldiers, or they’ll be out helping with the fires. No one will know or care if we sleep somewhere warm tonight.”

  Siv imitated her sister, crossing her arms. She shook her head violently, pushing out her jaw to further show her dislike of Ida’s idea.

  “I know a place,” Vidar said.

  “Oh? Where’s that?”

  “It smells a bit, but it’s warm and no one will ever come looking for us down there. Also, there is no risk of the fires reaching us, no matter what happens on the surface.”

  A look of disgust flashed past Ida’s face. “You don’t mean…?”

  He nodded, grinning. “Shit goblins.”