The Lord of Scale

The broken lordling rode for almost four days straight. Barely stopping for food and water, he had pushed both himself and his mount to near exhaustion. Fortunately for the horse, the young man had now reached his destination, and had to make the rest of his journey on foot. Dismounting, the once-proud and arrogant prince swatted the beast away. He was more than glad to go.

He had reached the base of the mountain range known to most as the Spine of the Dragon, and his ultimate destination was within these vast reaches. The mountains themselves stretched out for miles before him, loomed above him, climbing high into the afternoon sky. He could only hope to reach his destination before nightfall, as he had run out of food and water.

Bran Havelon began to climb through the rocks at the base of the huge mountains. He stumbled with nearly every step, cursing at every rock and pebble. Soon, however, he found what he was looking for, a small path, leading up into the mountains. It went almost straight up, winding and curving its way into the heart of the range. Bran heaved a heavy sigh, and began his desperate climb.

The path went up, and up, then curved one way and another, then went straight up again. Around and around it went this way, and around this way did Lord Bran Havelon go. Once in while he would stop to look down, and marvel at how far he'd come, only to close his eyes and turn back toward the mountain, frightened by just how far below him the ground really was.

As the evening sun began to cast its orange light upon the side of the mountain, Lord Bran finally found his destination; a large opening in the side of the mountain which he hoped led into a much larger cave. Taking a few tentative steps inside,  Bran let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the cavern beyond the opening. Even after a few moments however, the room still seemed as black as night. The lordling took another step inside, and froze. A shape began to form from the shadows of the huge cavern. The last rays of the setting sun began to filter into the cave, dimly illuminating the dark shape that loomed over the frightened young man.

Suddenly, an eye appeared. A mere ten feet in front of him, it was a huge eye, at least three or four feet in diameter. A great lid seemed to have risen slowly. The pupil of the great eye was staring directly at the frightened lordling of House Havelon. This was it, Bran thought. This is why I've come all this way, I must not falter now. He searched for some sign of courage within himself but found none. Instead, it was his hatred that spurred him onward.

“G,Greetings, O great one. I, I come before you, a humble human, t, to, to beg your service.”

For a long moment, it seemed like forever to the terrified Bran, nothing stirred in the cave. No answer, no movement, nothing. When he was certain he had spoken his last, a deep, dark voice answered his greeting.

“Beg my service? Indeed. And what service could such a pathetic creature as you offer the Lord of Scale?”

The voice invoked wisdom, deep malevolence, and inspired terror.

Bran suddenly found he did not want to finish what he had to say. He found he'd much rather turn and run as fast as he could go, out of the cave and down the mountain. He might make it out alive, he might. But the young man's deep seated arrogance and hatred would not let him leave, and it was these qualities that gave him the meager strength he needed to stay and treat with the most intimidating creature on the world of Aeonith.

“C, Counsel, my lord.”

The huge eye's pupil narrowed ever so slightly, and again the silence in the room threatened to swallow the young man, or push him out of the cave entirely. Somehow, he stayed his ground, until his answer came forthwith.

“Counsel, is it? Indeed. You would seek to counsel the great Lord of Scales. I find your arrogance at once brazen, and foolish. Typical of your pathetic species. What would your last words be, human?”

His last words. Bran had never thought of that before. What would his last words be, if and when he had the chance to utter them. He was being asked that question, here and now, but he must not allow himself to be stopped. He'd come this far, and was so close to his revenge, he couldn't let his fear get in the way.

“I, information, great one. I, I, I have information.”

The great eye narrowed even slighter. After another moment of silence, Bran took the offensive and continued, praying for either understanding, or a quick death.

“I have, a, a location. Of something you have sought since the Lost Age.”

Suddenly, with a force the lording could almost feel, another great eye opened, looking directly at the small human. Bran could no longer help himself, and he suddenly felt his fear running warmly down his legs.

The eyes stared at Bran for a lifetime.

The voice, emanating from a great mouth invisible in the forsaken blackness of the cave, sounded almost curious beneath its malice.

“And what it is the Lord of Scale has sought since the Lost Age?”

This was it, Bran's last chance at revenge, his trump card. He was either about to get even with everyone who'd ever wronged him, or die in the attempt. The word came out much stronger than he'd thought it would.

“Bryke.”

A sudden gust of hot air shot out from beneath the two great eyes, blowing dust around the cave, and into Bran's eyes. At that moment, the sun's evening rays lit the dark cave, ever so slightly, revealing the great Lord of Scale to the pitiful human. His eyes were still locked upon the frightened man as the huge creature raised its scaled head. An immense, red-brown body was covered in the same shining scales as its head. The massive cavern suddenly seemed small and cramped to the deposed price as the king of dragons raised his head to the ceiling, and still had not risen to his full height.

 The beast regarded Bran for just a moment longer.

And then, the great Lord of Scale inhaled the deepest breath he'd taken in almost a thousand years.