CHAPTER FOUR: WHO REMEMBERS THE DRAGONS?
He envied this dragon, possessing the might and such forces as he could study Time itself. If he was not mistaken, there was a dragon in charge of such an element on this world – Nozdormus, but Malygos had not mentioned his name, nor the boy's.
"Was that him? Was that Nozdormu?" he asked, suddenly realising there might be a more mundane answer.
"I do not know. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Time is it's own guise," the Dragon-sorceror replied. "I may be a guardian, and an immortal dragon – but that does not mean Time is not as elusive to me as it is to you." And so the Mage was left properly mystified. The Dragon smiled to see it so, although the mortal might not understand the expression. What would the mortals do, if they did not have their own curiosity to chase? This is what he wondered to himself even as he prepared the spell of incantation.
"I suspect it could be anyone, or no-one," Malygos continued. "To answer the question, one would cease having questions – and if one were to cease having questions, one would not be a sorcerer, merely a scholar."
He nodded to himself. It made enough sense in its own way. It resonated with his own learning as a mage. Often one thing revealed itself only to show a dozen new reflections, each with its own question, lesser and lesser, until it ceased to have meaning. A mage had to learn to choose his path, what he truly desired to learn, so that he would not be distracted by tantalising but useless possibilities, unless possibilities were what he desired. Circles upon circles, as it was said by the learned.
"My brother did alert me you were attempting to pass into our time, however." The dragon said after a moment. "That was how I was able to detect and draw you here. He is too busy for such things himself, he leaves the curiosity to me."
"I came with questions," Andregas said. "I sought the Night Elves in this time, because they may be able to help me."
"I'm afraid that, I can't allow," Malygos said, and Andregas froze suddenly as that one reptilian eye pierced him through. "Time has suffered enough wounds in this era, not all of which have been repaired."
"Then what am I do to?" Andregas demanded. "I shall die if I do not!"
The dragon did not reply for a moment, and Andregas thought for the moment that the creature had the enormous gall and arrogance to fall asleep on him.
"Hello – are you awake?!"
"Yes. Merely thinking. You seek immortality, don't you?"
"How did you know that?"
"I try to be polite."
"Oh. I see." Andregas felt momentarily alarmed at his embarrassment. Of course, dragons didn't age at the same rate as humans. And he realised, perhaps these ones didn't age at all. Was he not seeking an answer of sorcery, and was this not the Dragon-Aspect of magic? Was this not an unprecedented opportunity, and a mind that could divulge all he wished to know?
"Could you…" he began tentatively.
"Sleep," the dragon said. And the sorceror did.
And while he did, the dragon watched over his body. "Perhaps you will find better answers in a dream. If the answers lie within yourself, you may find them."
He woke up in a dream he didn't realise was a dream. He was a warrior, standing perhaps seven feet tall, muscled like a beast, with tattoos that danced over his skin in a tableau of various agonies. He was in a cave, surrounded by enemies. Trapped. He shattered his chains and he fought – not with sorcery, but instinctively, as his natural weapon, his hands, his fists, his knee, a shattered table leg as a cudgel. And then – a sword. Blood flew.
"You may stay while I decide what to do with you," the dragon said, at least, when he awoke from this vision. "The flow of magic is temperamental, and even I do not understand all its charms all the time. There may be a purpose to your being here. You may not disturb this time, but I shall endure your presence until you are satisfied. I am always a proper host." The dragon opened its mouth wide, a daunting spectre, as if grinning.
Andregas said nothing, but inside himself, he thought: of course.
The dragon's eyes glittered.
"At least now I know why Time itself became present," he laughed softly to himself as if at a joke. Andregas wondered at the notion, but decided that draconic wit was beyond him.
Age to Andregas was like, as if someone had ripped a blanket off him before he was ready, and he was trying to get warm ever since. He did not want to go into yet colder places without it, yet he must if he were to ever get warm again.
