As the dragon, Esrael and Gilroy were walking through narrow paths between market stalls, merchants of different specialties besieged them and offered a wide range of goods: strength potions, fire magic scrolls, amulets and other odd items. But none of them had the thing our heroes desired most — invisibility potion. None of the traders could find this item in their deep sacks and leather bags. After hours of a continuous walk along the busy market, the attempt of crowding the luck seemed to fail, when all of a sudden three wanderers came across a tiny shop, which wore very neglected look. It seemed that its owner didn't have any skills of a carpenter: the roof was full of loopholes, the door was corrupted — all these aspects showed that the owner didn't care of his building pretty much. However, that structure didn't seem so rejectful to our heroes, so they, being desperate to know more, came a little bit closer. The first impression even worsened: little windows, through which old wooden shelves could be seen, had scratches which definitely weren't the knife prints; the steps, which led to the door, had wide cracks in some places, ready to break under the lightest baby; from the old chimney made of brick, black fumes of thick smoke were exhausting, spoiling bright clear sky of Eldoras. One may fairly admit that this den truly wasn't a cozy place for guests. To tell the truth, citizens tried to avoid it as often as possible.
—Well, at last, we're here, it seems,—the dragon concluded.—But where's the owner, I wonder?
—If the stove is fuming, then there's definitely someone inside,—Esrael noted. Suddenly a peculiar skull-shaped bell attracted his attention. Although it wore a neglected look, our hero decided to pull its tongue and inform the owner of their arrival. Esrael pulled the rope and all of a sudden very loud roar thundered from the inside. Chills ran on our characters' skin. Nobody wanted to be the first to enter that dark abyss.
—C'mon, let's go. Not the coziest accommodation I've ever seen, but it is not the Hade's domain at least. Probably...—Esrael, vanishing in the darkness of the odd den, said. It was as dark, as it was in the cave they had visited one day before. Our explorers tripped over caldrons, pitchforks, nearly grazing thousands of bulbs with terrifying samples of dried lizards, snakes, moles and mice, giving an empty dead look through the dirty glass. Each exhibit summoned disgust and tremble in our alerted heroes' minds. Suddenly dim light streaming from beneath the floor caught their attention. They came a little bit closer. Loud noises of explosions, working machines along with the weird voice of the shop's owner, who was performing his terrifying experiments, sounded from beneath.
—Maybe we shouldn't interrupt him?—Gilroy alertedly suggested.—He's pretty busy out there...
—I won't be so sure he's a human,—the dragon, attentively listening to the odd noises from below, replied.—All in all, he's our last chance to get to the palace.
—Sounds wise enough,—Gilroy agreed.—But if he, you know...—Gilroy slit his throat with a thumb.
—We don't have another choice,—the dragon, having opened the cellar door, said.—He's the only one who can help.
—Well, if there are no other options, all I have is to obey,—Gilroy unwillingly said, coming down to the cellar with his comrades.—All in all, I'm not in a hurry to make any plans after all. Everything can happen...
—Would you kindly not pour sense of despair again?—Esrael, listening to every sound from the cellar, growned.—There are more important problems right now.
—Yes, you're right... Sorry,—Gilroy, examining weird potions, excused.—I have a king to persuade ahead. No way I will continue mourning ever again...
On their way they came across with lots of different objects, placed in boxes and old cupboards: dried frog heads, stuffed squiggs with poked eyes, hanging from the ceiling, great variety of herbage in dirty pots, peculiar tools for squeezing herbals and meat, terrifying masks and totems — everything made our heroes feel themselves in unfamiliar and uncosy surroundings. Finally, they reached the door, from where loud exclamations, bubbling and other strange sounds could be heard.
—Well, my young adventurers,—the dragon, having turned to startled friends and pointed on the door, asked.—Who dares to come first?
No reply was given. The reason was simple: everybody remembered that kind of question before entering the cave.
—I guess, me, as usual,—the dragon sighed, rolled his eyes and cautiously went on discovering oddly-looking den. Having opened the rough oak door, which creaked very loudly, our hero noticed a goblin, who was rapidly moving from one shelf to another, picking up strange potions; he threw dried mushrooms and herbals into a large pot with pure delight, mixing everything with a large aspen stick. His robes could not be described as wear: goblin was dressed in a dirty hood, wrapped around his skinny green body; eyecatching amulets, mascots, bone beads, hanging on his neck, underlined his familiarity with rituals of orc shamans. His skin was colored with wide white stripes.
—And now,—goblin busily murmured, rummaging in his tiny beg on a belt,— time for the final ingredient — four hundred-year fungus!
Having picked out freckled, dried shroom, he jauntily threw it into the dimorange boiling substance. Suddenly, after a couple of seconds, the pot started shaking and water began heavily splashing around as if the storm suddenly stroke in the calm and peaceful sea.
—Things are getting hairy,—Esrael murmured, trying to come across the ledger with his hands.—We should get our assess out of here, the faster the better.
—There's nothing to disagree about, mate,—Gilroy agreed, hiding behind the dragon, who was observing mad goblin standing near the pot.
Our heroes were about to dash out of the old den, suddenly heard the most chilling phrase can be heard in magic or alchemy: "Uh-oh". In a second an enormous blow jolted the whole cellar of goblin's den. Cans and pots fell off the shelves, many little pots and bulbs exploded, shelves and stalls with potions fell off the rusty bindings, nailed to the old wooden walls; all the candles went off, letting the darkness enter the dimly-lighted room. The blow was so powerful that the shockwave blew our heroes in the opposite edge of the quarters. The dragon was just on time taking his original form and covering Esrael and Gilroy with his wings, creating something like a tough cocoon around them. The dragon could not hold on his paws and resist blow's power. He was rapidly thrown away and, after breaking through the old oak planks, he dashed into the rough cellar wall. Hardly our scaly hero had bounced back, an odd creek rang out in his head. He stiffed, rose his eyes and saw with awe two enormous stillages falling down right on him. The dragon could only exclaim: "Damn chimera!" — and the large stillage fell on his strong back. The strike was so strong that our scaly hero could feel his bones shaking. But it was only the first part: hardly he could let a little breath of air into his lungs, the second stillages nearly crushed him to the ground. Wood cracking, bulbs breaking, Esrael and Gilroy spitting, coughing, moaning, pain... Silence... Dead silence...
Having opened his eyes, dragon instantly checked his mates. Haven't spotted them nearby, he started desperately seeking for them around. "They can't be dead!"—he whispered to himself. Nevertheless, all his fears rapidly vanished when he came across Esrael's face, who was standing near the scratched wall. His face was covered with tiny scars and bruises, left by tiny particles of glass. All in all his wounds weren't severe: his cute attractive face still had a chance to become an object of adoration of pretty girls.
—Greetings, scalyhead!—Esrael, giving his hand to the dragon, said.—You're alright? Man, that was fast as the wind! If you didn't use your wings, we would be dining with Charon.
—Where's Gilroy?—dragon asked, slowly lifting from the floor.—Is he alright?
—Safe and sound!—familiar voice radiated through the plunks from upstairs.
—Man, that was awesome! You should have entered our platoon long before. I bet your bones're made of steel! Mother-nature truly did her best when you were born!
—What are you doing out there?—the dragon continued asking and headed towards the ladder, trying to avoid stepping onto shreds of glass, splittered all over the floor. Esrael slowly followed him.
—The thing our friend had prepared was going to explode all of a sudden at all events. Unfortunately, he figured it out much later, realizing that he did some miscalculations,—Gilroy's voice was becoming more clear, as our friends were approaching the exit from the cellar.—Blastwave shattered everything to pieces, there's a complete massacre down there. Man, you really saved our asses.
—So... That's how people call "a visit to a tiny shop", huh? They are sick daredevils if they really do,—Esrael lengthened, scratching back of his head, and gratefully addressed to the dragon:—Thanks for saving our lives.
—My pleasure!—the dragon grinned in reply.—It seems it becomes my informal duty.
At last, having passed several damaged steps, our brothers in misfortune went out of the cellar, which was still full of light grey smoke. The den was still full of heavy smell of burning, which disgustingly irritated our heroes' nostrils. At the end of the messy house the goblin, who made this disgraceful event come to life, was sitting, slowly crushing something in a little clay pot. Having spotted the two aggrieved, goblin distracted from his occupation and addressed newcomers with a smile:
—Greetings, strangers! What has led you to such a distant...—he didn't manage to go through with his speech, because irritated Esrael interrupted him with aggravating reply:
—Don't you dare to speak to us in such a way, you, sick scientist! You nearly got us killed with your crazy experiments! And if the whole goddamn town got blown away? Huh?! How many times did you perform such shit?
—Eighty-four...—goblin unwillingly replied, continuing crushing herbals in a bowl.
—Eighty-four?!—Esrael furiously exclaimed.—You sick bastard...
—Hold on, Esrael,—Gilroy, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, said.—We haven't come here to get involved in a larger dispute, have we? We've come here for help, remember?
—Right,—Esrael agreed and scratched back of his head with confusion.—I'm sorry. I saw my city burning in the flames of this god damn couple of days ago. I just can't handle my emotions...
—Don't worry, my friend,—goblin replied, smiling.—Sometimes we need to get that steam out. Otherwise, it can lead to some really bad consequences. So, why have you come here at such an unpleasant hour? Potions? Medicine?
—Exactly,—the dragon, examining rows of peculiar bulbs with different colorful arcanums.—Do you have a potion of invisibility? We have to get into the king's dungeon unspotted, so we don't need any witnesses. Panic is not the best ally today.
—Oh, you don't know yet...—goblin, having distracted from crushing the leaves in the pot, chagrinly replied.
—What exactly?—Esrael wondered.—Don't conceal anything.
—The king fled from the city three days ago with all his army to Eolmern, my friends,—goblin replied contritely. Esrael was startled out of his wits.—It is the eastern part of the kingdom of men. Nobody knows where it is, but the king. —But... But what about all these guards, flags?—Gilroy asked surprisingly.— They are not the decorations, are they? And nobody would dare to hang flags in the absence of the king.
—That's just a clever representation of preparedness, my friend,—goblin explained griefully.—I saw with my own eyes, how a large group of horsemen and guardsmen loaded on the ships and sailed towards the horizon. I even saw the king among this crowd. He was in a black hood, without any crown, golden festoons and other royal scum. How did I identify him? The sword.
The royal scabbard, to be exact. You couldn't mistake them with anything.
—How many soldiers are left in the city?—the dragon asked.
—Less than three thousand, my friend...
—My hearing hasn't failed me?—the dragon reassured himself.—Three thousand people to defend the capital?!
—Approximately, yes,—goblin calmly replied.—Six hundred of them are experienced soldiers and sailors, one thousand of them are fresh recruits and the last fourteen hundred are volunteer corps: peasants, tailors, forgers, carpenters, farmers and so on. These are just rough figures.
—Have you tried to call for help from dwarves, elves or orks?—Esrael asked. —Of course,—goblin heavily sighed.—But that didn't work out — there was no king who gave a single reply. They do not need another senseless war. All in all, their thoughts are clear to me: if I were a politician I would not let somebody sacrifice my peoples' lives.
—We're in big trouble,—Esrael concluded.—Sticks and stones against spears and loads... This is madness!
—Agree. Pitchforks will not stand a single chance against armor. What should we do?—Gilroy wondered.—Surrender?
—We can't stand this fight alone,—the dragon said.—We definitely need reinforcements. Orks, elves, dwarves — anyone but not the enemy.
—Absolutely agree,—Esrael nodded.—We need to send our fastest messengers to their capitals.
—They won't manage to succeed,—goblin sighed.—It will take you three days, not less, to reach only dwarven realm. You'll need something faster.
—We can fly,—the dragon suggested.
—Great idea!—Esrael enthusiastically agreed.—But when?
—The sooner, the better,—goblin said.—Every minute is at stake. But there's one problem left behind. No agreement can be signed without the king's approval. Even in the field of internal affairs. Only by his will peace treaties, commercial agreements, tariff unions and other pacts can be reached. So there's a very little chance your words will be taken seriously.
—We don't have another option,—the dragon said.—If the king is not present, we can't reach any agreements. But it doesn't mean we can't lie. We can address to other kings by Pendragon's will. It's more important to assemble every ally we can. I will leave policy to His Majesty. We don't have any time for that.
—I like the plan. What are we gonna' do?—Gilroy asked.
—Listen,—the dragon replied.—Goblin and you are going to assemble as many warriors as you can till my arrival. You can use your status,—he addressed to Gilroy,—as a remedy of influence.
—Good idea,—Esrael agreed.—I will try to prepare the city for the defense in my turn.
—I guess we have an accord,—the dragon, having given his comrades a friendly look, smiled. After that he addressed to the goblin:—I'm sorry for not asking your agreement. It's not your duty to help us. Everything depends on your decision.
—I don't have another option,—goblin replied.—Eldoras is my home. And it's my holy obligation to defend it. After all, the king hasn't finished the pavement yet. I want to have a walk on it someday. There's no point in paying taxes if I won't be able to do it.
—Alright. I will try to persuade monarchs and plead for any help from them,— the dragon concluded.—I hope someone will come to help us in such a desperate hour. If there is any drop of remorse left in their selfish hearts, of course.
—It's getting dark,—goblin said.—You need to hurry. There is only one night at your disposal. The enemy is near, and you're all pretty aware of what can happen if Eldoras falls.
—I will bring reinforcements, I promise,—the dragon assured and opened the door. The streets were submerged into the warmth of precious spring night. The smell of fragrant herbals and flowers, bathing in the dim light of the moon, caressed dragon's sensitive sense of smell. Having spread his wings, he looked around and, turning back to his comrades, said:—I will come back as soon as possible. Just don't pull back. May the luck be with you.
—So with you,—Esrael and Gilroy, having given the dragon a good-by nod, replied. Having winked to his friends, dragon waved his wings, rose over the ground and zoomed into the sky, vanishing in the thick darkness of silent night. His way led to the west, where the great powers of Uniearth were situated.
—He will be able to persuade them, won't he?—Esrael, addressing to the goblin, asked.
—I don't know, Esrael,—goblin replied.—But something whispers to me that whatever the odds we shall prevail and defend Eldoras.
—What makes you think that way?—Gilroy puzzlingly asked, giving the goblin a surprised look. His short interlocutor raised his eyes and grinned:
—Hope, my friend. Only hope.
With these words goblin, having slightly opened his den's door slowly came inside. Esrael and Gilroy decided to stay in order to get submerged into a pure peacefulness of nighttime's silence. They could not expect, that this marvelous seaside city was going to face an aggressive, aggravating, bloody ordeal of war. How many souls would perish on a bloody battlefield, setting off to infinite life in Hade's domain to amuse their leisure on Elysian fields? They both knew that the victory will be theirs. But at the same time were conscious of how many peoples' lives would be sacrificed in order to provide future generations with prosperous future and how deep the pond of mothers' tears, who would lose their beloved children, would become. And the most trembling feeling was that in case of failure it was going to be their fate to drown in that pond of doom and despair.