The Burnt City

A dragon comes to the city of Kassem.

Æons ago, stone giants Zhon and Fiozhi of the Ptaerok killed one another, after quarreling over who would have the honour of defending the land to the west. And ever since their bodies have bled out and their veins have yet to dry. Their blood pooled together and trickled west, flooding the land. And thus was born the River Tanner. Along its banks, many cities and villages have grown and withered, among them Kassem.

An old fortress, Kassem had survived centuries of storms, floods, war and conquest. Yet it was unlike any other fort of Ælyssum whose walls fanned out to protect its citizens. Rather, it had no walls at all. On its northern doorstep was a great forest called the Dole Weald. And the torrent of the early Tanner ran south of the city, with an arid land called Møne beyond it. Meanwhile, the formidable Ptaerok watched over the city in the east.

From up high at the West Gate or any one of the stone watchtowers along the northern bank of the river, the city looked picturesque. Smoking stacks billowed cloud from the grid of wooden structures and the keep, and people busied themselves in streets and the farmland further out.

Looking south one could see the first rapids of the summer, a frothy white. Farther out was the south bank, looking lush and green, but not as fertile as the north. No matter what tilling was done, or fires burned, crops grew feeble and stunted. People complained it was simply too dry or rocky.

Past the riverside the land turned hot and barren, growing only the hardiest of weeds. The waste stretched for miles uninterrupted. And the stark contrast in the landscape and climate was just one of the reasons for not needing a wall to protect the city.

At his station in the third mile tower, was Franz monitoring all things. Be them potential enemies of the south, or incoming allies from the west. It was his job to keep watch. But lately, the sentries of Kassem or Meer were more concerned with what lay in the desert. For the Mø’n were growing restless.

Franz studied the horizon intently. The skies were clear as they had been for over a week. It was a sure sign of a long and hot summer in the south. To make Franz’ life all the more miserable.

He sat in the tower with his lantern doused. Like other men stationed to the third mile tower who had the best vision, a light was more hindrance than help. Though it was an ordinary night. A dull night. And like an ordinary man, tedium made one’s eyes feel heavy. With his elbows on the parapet, and his chin in his palms, Franz was about ready to fall asleep. But something kept him from neglecting his duties.

Franz leapt up in surprise when the hatch in the floor creaked open. The three men looking out in the other cardinal directions didn’t move a muscle; obviously focused, or dazed.

“Arnoud,” said a relieved Franz once he saw the man who came to relieve him of his post. He was a sturdy and weathered old man. Come up to relieve the skinny young man.  

“Did I startle you boy?”

“No,” lied Franz. 

“O’ course I did. Ye liar. No matter, I’ve this watch now. Anything to report?”

“Not as such. Barely a gust of wind.”

“Where’d you have your eye last?”

Stretching his arm out to show the senior man, Franz said, “Due south.”

Franz had no sooner said a direction, when he saw something. Although the night was young, the Obsidian was naked, and moonbeams aided Franz in seeing. And it was on the outer limit that he spied a shadow moving. Moving fast.

“Wha’ is that?” asked Franz.

Arnoud took a look. He squinted and after a moment shot upright. He started shivering, but didn’t move otherwise as though he were cold and frozen and his eyes filled up with fear.

“What’s wrong Arnoud?”

Arnoud whispered, “Dragon.”

He looked more closely, and the shadow had soared near enough now for Franz to see what it was. What he had only ever seen weaved in tapestries, or carved into wood or stone. A beast over a hundred feet long with bat wings and a foul temper was coming their way.

“DRAGON!” yelled Franz. He jumped up again but this time to ring the bell in the tower.

Not long after, Franz heard a long horrifying screech that could only have come from the dragon. And cries of panic echoing from below. The citizens moved fast into hiding, but a dæmon had come to set them ablaze.

All the while, Franz thought how naïve his people were to think that a forest or desert would protect them. How foolish they were to believe either of the two stone giants could possibly have defended them those many years ago.