With a loud yell, Max threw the flashlight and jumped backwards, flinging his arms over his head in utter terror. That thing was about to attack him, he knew it. At any second, he'd feel its razor-sharp teeth and claws sink into his flesh…
Nothing happened.
He stopped mid-yell and though his heart was still pounding uncontrollably inside his chest, he slowly, cautiously uncovered his head. The flashlight had rolled across the floor a ways and come to rest in a tiny crevice by the wall, as if patiently waiting for him to stop being a total idiot and pick it up again.
Sheepishly, Max sidestepped and scooped it up. Whatever it was that had frightened him was obviously not going to hurt him, but he couldn't help hesitating a bit before facing his tall, dark and silent not-so-attacker.
It was a dragon, or rather an incredibly life-like statue of one. He was crouched in a defensive position atop a tall and sturdy pedestal hewn from the very stone of the floor. The tail curled around the pedestal, fins spread flat against the front surface. Curiously, one of the two fins was red and bore the same horned skull symbol Max had found on the rune stone outside, but in white. The long, sleek, cat-like body was painted black and every detail, down to the last carefully carved scale, was perfectly preserved. His claws dug into the stone and his bat-like wings were partway unfurled, nearly taking up all available space. His face was not what Max had always pictured a typical dragon's to look like: broad and flat on top, with all features in the front, the most striking of which were the eyes. The two greenish-yellow stones set into the sockets seemed to spark with life as Max moved the flashlight past them. They sat just above a grinning, half-opened mouthful of rounded teeth.
This was a guardian, likely a representation of something very important to the person buried here, a symbol of power and protection. It was then that Max recalled one of his favorite stories, the one about the Viking boy who befriended and trained a black dragon and later became a wise and kind leader to his people. Could this be that very dragon?
Max couldn't help but smile as he approached the statue and placed the palm of his hand on the broad snout, right between the eyes. Somehow, the action was natural, like this was how one should always greet a dragon, especially one of such significance. It was kind of like meeting a long-idolized celebrity, except without all the crowds and flashing cameras that came along with it.
He let his hand slide off the dragon's nose and started to turn, but stopped short after executing an impressive double-take. Right where his hand had been, was another set of tiny runes etched into the stone of the dragon's forehead. Whoever put them there knew that one day someone would come along and place their hand in that very spot. Well, maybe not just any someone…
The thought was chilling, but in an exciting way. Max hurriedly tucked the flashlight under an arm and once again produced the notebook and pen from his bag. Most of the runes were the same, which made translating much easier this time around.
Only a Haddock Can Enter Here.
And, just as expected, there it was again. His name. Haddock.
Apparently he was the only one who could enter here, that much was obvious given he'd already found the rune stone and the passageway in, but…where could only he enter? Max snapped the notebook shut and began sweeping the beam of the flashlight around the tunnel in search of further clues. Behind the dragon, the tunnel ended abruptly in a wall carved in an interlocking circular pattern with an oddly shaped hole at the very center.
A doorway! Of Course! And that could only mean that the hole in the middle was intended for a key.
Max aimed the beam back at the stone dragon's face, as if doing so would bring him to life so he could point the way. Naturally, he remained in his defensive pose, bright eyes gleaming, mouth open in that same fierce grin…
Mouth open…
Max's hand shot forward before he could finish that thought and the black dragon's teeth scraped the skin of his knuckles as he slid it in between the jaws. He half expected them to snap shut, taking off his hand and keeping it as a warning for those foolish enough to follow, but the dragon never blinked. Max gasped as his fingers brushed against something small, hard and cold, something that didn't belong in a dragon's mouth. His fingers curled around the object, drew it out…
In the palm of his hand was a piece of carved stone the exact shape as the hole in the door. The key.
Max nodded his sincere thanks to the black dragon (and he could've sworn the beast winked back at him) and skirted the statue to stand before the door. His hand shook slightly as he lifted the piece, slid it into place and turned it.
Stone ground loudly against stone as the interlocking parts slid around each other to reveal a diagonal seam between two half-circles. The two sides pulled away from each other and dust from the growing doorway billowed around him, making him cough. Then all movement ceased and the dead-silence of the tomb was restored.
Wide-eyed, Max waved away the rest of the dust clouds and crept toward the opening. The flashlight was just strong enough to illuminate the far wall of the circular room on the other side, and what he saw there made him stop in his tracks, completely dumbfounded.
Running along the top of that wall like a banner was a string of colorful paintings depicting dragons, people, battles and more in crude, angular Viking fashion. Before the scene of a young boy reaching up to touch a black dragon—which looked just like the statue in the tunnel—were more runes.
Max stepped into the room, trusty notebook already in hand.
Only a Haddock Will Understand, he translated quickly, then took a closer look at the paintings and realized they told a story of their own.
The boy was riding the dragon in the next scene and shooting purple fireballs at another monstrous dragon Max assumed was a fearsome enemy. Then the boy matured into a young man, now with a peg-leg, and was joined by a woman with blond hair, an axe on her back and a baby in her arms. Under the watchful eye of his loving family, the baby grew into a child with a dragon companion of his own, which he rode alongside his mother and father into a bright orange sunset. It was the story of a rich and happy life here on this island among family, dragons and peaceful times. The last two scenes however, were very different. In the first, the man embraced his now teenaged son as the blond woman laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, head bowed in visible sorrow. Next, the man was on dragon-back again, this time leaning forward with his mouth open in a mighty battle cry, a fiery blade held high above his head as he led a charging group of fellow riders into a hailstorm of flaming arrows.
That was where the story ended.
Only a Haddock Will Understand.
Max understood everything.