Gaius had been meeting with the king for about a month, and Merlin had no idea.
"How may I help you, my lord?" He asked the first time Arthur brought the book. "Do you need any herbs? Merlin is out, but—"
"I know he's out." The king gestured for Gaius to stay in bed and approached, holding out a leather package.
"I'm afraid I don't—" The physician had begun, but at a look from Arthur, he folded back the wrappings. "A book? My lord…" His voice died away and he dropped the text onto the bedspread, his heart quickening slightly. "My lord, that book is bound…"
"In dragonskin," Arthur finished quietly. "I found it in the royal vaults. It's older than any of the books Geoffrey has in the library, I reckon. I need you to help me read it."
Gaius hadn't wanted to touch it, let alone read it, but his fingers ventured across the cover anyways. It felt cold, and sleek, and he gingerly flipped the cover open. The paper inside was a thick parchment—once creamy, he imagined, but it had long since yellowed and grown brittle with age. The text was ornate, flourished with beautiful versals in crimson and gold, but in several places the ink had faded into illegibility. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and haltingly began to read.
"The firewyrm has long been a fixture of this world, perhaps predating even the primary occurrence of man. It was first recorded in the Druid writings of Ceryes, in the year of the moon. One might find it interesting to note that this initial meeting was described as diplomatic, an exchange of knowledge and a kinship which lasted for many generations. The dragons offered the breath of life and fire, and protection from vagrants, and apparently required nothing in return. They even allowed select Druids to journey on their backs, beginning with the great Tjeron—the start of a line of draconic warriors who became known as Dragonlords, after their deep and intimate bond with their winged counterparts.
"It is unclear when the union between the Druids and the dragons grew sour, although some texts suggest that it was not the fault of the Druids themselves but of foreign tribesmen who sought to hunt dragons and steal their eggs. Whatever the cause, the dragons began to fade out of the company of humans. They took to the deepest and darkest reaches of the forests, to the very heart of the mountains, to the furthest depths of the deserts, and even so, they were pursued. Their numbers began to dwindle, and as the years passed, the few that remained grew violent. Even the Druids who had once been such precious allies were ravaged by flame and claw if they ventured too close to the creatures.
"It is important at this juncture to remember that the dragons were once peaceable. In fact, in the writings of Ceryes, there is mention of a dragon called Limnulah. Her rider, a Druid man-child by the name of Fayder, had been killed after falling from a precipice. Ceryes wrote:
"'There was ne'er such a sound of grief as rent the air when Fayder, son of Famir, was killed. He had been the lord of a particularly old and wise wyrm, and when she became aware of his death, she fell, lifeless, at his side. Nature itself seemed to weep for the pair, but suddenly the dragoness disappeared and poor Fayder awoke. The village was, of course, joyous, and there were many celebrations even as the people mourned the loss of Limnulah. Before a moon had passed, however, the boy had begun to change. He had been gifted with the ability to skinwalk, becoming a dragon at will, but the wretched Fayder was still a child, and not equipped to handle such a transformation. He went mad and fled to the mountains, where he died.'
"This process became known as the Resurrection. When a Dragonlord died, their dragon could choose to die alongside their companion and channel their power into the Druid. Although this was done with the best of intentions, it cannot be denied that the exchange rarely went well. In some cases the Druid went mad, even ending their own lives. In others, they grew incapable of returning to their human form, forgetting their past lives entirely. Because of these complications, the Druids called the hybrids the Lonely Ones, and together with the dragons sought to make the Resurrection a lost practice.
"Upon reading such passages in the works of the ancient Druids it is difficult to associate the wyrms of then with the dragons of now. In the past year alone there have been four separate dragon attacks in the region, and the Dragonlords have become all but a myth. Without such aid entire kingdoms are left vulnerable to the wrath of a creature stronger than entire legions of men, and it becomes necessary to seek out other means of defense."
Arthur leaned forward, interrupting Gaius. "Wait, is that all it said about the—"
"This was an introductory chapter, my lord." The physician began to flip through the pages, and the more he skimmed, the drier his mouth became. "Sire… These chapters are all about how to kill dragons."
"I know," Arthur said, his expression inscrutable. He settled back in his chair and motioned for Gaius to continue reading.