The voices fluttered and flew about him, the mixture of whispers and mutterings surrounding him like a veil as he wandered in the darkness. He couldn't feel anything but the cold, an oppressive force that seemed to weigh more heavily on him with every step; he didn't know how long he stumbled about for, but the cold eventually overwhelmed him and forced him to his knees. When he looked up, a great form seemed to loom out of the dark above him, a gargantuan shape that was bathed in shadow, but held an oppressive presence like a mountain.

  Though he couldn't see its face, he could feel its stare, a chilling and horrifying sensation that would have made him scream if he could. Its aura was overwhelming, terrifying, absolute; it threatened to overwhelm him in a rush of terrifying hunger, as a beast devours its prey while it still lives.

  A blinding light suddenly flashed before him, materializing between him and the entity. It was a radiant beacon of golden light, a brilliant torch in an ocean of darkness that hurt his eyes to even look at indirectly; it reached out to him, beckoning him to take hold.

  He didn't need to be told twice; grabbing the light's hand, he felt a rushing sensation as if he were launched into the heavens, his stomach dropping to his feet, as the light being whisked him away into the ether while the malicious entity roared in fury beneath them.

  Arthur's eyelids flittered open, the shadowy darkness melting away into a stony ceiling. The faint howling of the wind emanated from somewhere nearby, mixed in with the crackling of flames; it was then that he felt it, the cold biting at his limbs, fingers, and toes, as he instinctively shivered and curled up.

  "You're awake." A woman's voice beside him nearly made him jump; he rolled to his side, coming face to face with a pair of warm golden eyes.

  In the dim light, the eyes almost seemed to glow, but he was more taken aback by the face they were set on: it was a woman's, slim, smooth, and nearly porcelain white, her features as soft and delicate as silk. Amber brown hair rolled down her shoulders, with a white headscarf wrapped around the top of her head; she was a young maiden, but older than Arthur, no more than her mid-twenties, he surmised.

  He blinked, before sitting up. "Well. That's one way to wake up."

  The woman dipped a towel into bucket of warm water and pressed it against his head, dabbing it gently as he winced from the water streaming down his face.

  "How do you feel?" she asked, her soft voice matching her features. "Your friends here have been worried about you."

  He opened his mouth to reply, but his head throbbed and pulsed as he tried to do so, forcing him to lay back down. The pain slowly found its way across the rest of his body, spreading from his head, to his chest, to his abdomen, and then to his limbs and fingers. It felt as if every nerve in his body had been stretched out and hammered by a blacksmith.

  "Arthur?" A familiar voice made him turn his head: Henry stood not far from them, a tray of food in his hands.

  The squire's face broke into a wide grin as he set the tray on a table and rushed over, grabbing Arthur's shoulder. "Arthur! You're finally up!" He squeezed the knight-apprentice's shoulder, causing him to grimace. "Oh, sorry!"

  "Easy there, lord-squire." Arthur managed a weak grin. "I feel like I've been through a hammer-shop."

  "You got off lightly, then." The woman finished her towel-dabbing and stood back, allowing the two boys some room. "Considering how close you were to death's door."

  Henry nodded. "Diana saved you with her healing and magic. Looks like you - we - owe her a great debt."

  "Not yet another life-debt," Arthur groaned. He ignored the aching pain and forced himself to sit up again. "Where are we? What happened? Last I remember, we were fighting a monster or the like. I believe I was beaten smartly."

  "We were." Henry's expression tightened. "But we won. Thanks to Praetorus, here." He jerked his head to the archer, who was leaning against the wall not far away, cloaked in shadow. "And it's also thanks to him we ran into it. He led us right into it, with the aim of killing the beast himself. We were just bait for him."

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Arthur frowned. "Really now?" He looked over to Praetorus. "That true?"

  Praetorus merely dipped his head. "Yes."

  The knight-apprentice maintained his frown for a moment, before he laughed. Henry looked at him, puzzled.

  "Arthur, he tried to kill us."

  "Oh, I know, I know." Arthur swung his legs over the table's side and put his feet on the stone floor. "I'm laughing, but I'm furious."

  "What's so funny, then?"

  "The audacity of this bumpkin! The gall! The unmitigated hubris!" Arthur's laughter slowly trailed off, as he stumbled to his feet uncertainly. Henry aided him, bracing him against his shoulder. "Well, I'm sure you have a good reason for this, my shadowy friend."

  "I am hunting a dragon," Praetorus replied bluntly.

  Arthur stopped, before letting out a long whistle. "You see? A perfectly good reason."

  Henry froze. "You can't be serious."

  "Oh, but I am! And don't think I didn't hear you two scuffling while I was under." Arthur scrunched his face. "Well, some of it, anyway."

  "A wyvern is usually drawn to a dragon's power." Praetorus didn't move from his place as he spoke. "Its presence in this region means we are close. I predict it has made its nest in the Mountain of the Dead."

  "Then it's a good thing we're not headed that far," Henry said curtly. "Once Rebecca wakes, we're headed to the Mines, and that's that."

  "Hold on now," Arthur cut in. His gaze was keenly fixed on Praetorus. "Go on. Why do you think this beast is in the Mountain?"

  "It is a warren of ancient tombs and catacombs, with little to no intruders." The archer returned Arthur's gaze in kind, his purple irises seeming to glow hypnotically. "I aim to infiltrate this dragon's lair, then kill it in its sleep."

  "Well, that's not sporting at all," Arthur grumbled. "What kind of cur kills a mighty foe in their sleep? Nobody would sing songs or write tales of that!"

  "Arthur," Henry interjected sharply. "Our goal is the Mines. What Praetorus wishes to do, he can do so on his own."

  The knight-apprentice rolled his eyes. "Oh please, the mines are perfectly safe. You can head there with Rebecca and get your stones and rocks. Praetorus here will need some backup in case his brilliant plan goes sideways."

  "In case you don't remember, he almost got us killed." Henry's voice was shrill, a tone Arthur hadn't heard from him before. "Why would you ever trust this snake's word again, let alone accompany him on this mad errand?!"

  Arthur sighed. "Let me be perfectly clear. You, lord-squire, are on your own quest to gather your ore. I am to merely supervise you. Now that we are nearly there, you are to fulfill your quest. I have already done my part in seeing you here."

  "Don't be stupid, not again." The squire's tone was sharp enough to cut. "You're supposed to be my proctor. Instead, you're gallivanting off on some stupid errand to-"

  "It's not stupid. This dragon could potentially threaten the local township, maybe even the rest of the Regency." Arthur felt the irritability within bubbling up into frustration. "Don't tell me you're scared of dragons because one killed your master."

  "Don't you-"

  "Oh, I'll dare!" Arthur mustered himself to his full height as Henry confronted him. "What's more, I'm not sure you're knight material! Shying away from fights, kowtowing to everyone who crosses our paths, and losing your temper like a child! Were I your master, I'd be ashamed."

  "You take that back." Henry was pale, full of venom and bile. "Or I'll-"

  "You'll what? Beat me to a bloody pulp again?" Arthur yawned. "I've been back and forth at death's door more times these last few days than my entire life so far. So go on, beat me. I'm sure I'll either cheat death again, or get it over with this time."

  The two stood nose-to-nose for a moment; Arthur kept himself composed, maintained his nonchalant expression as he stared Henry down in turn. Inwardly though, he cursed himself; his mouth was faster than his brain again, spitting out words that even he knew crossed the line. Inside his mind, he begged, prayed, for Henry to call his bluff and-

  "Fine." Henry turned on his heel and stalked off. "Do what you want. When Rebecca and I get back, Sir Paulus will hear of this."

  "Oh, I'm sure he'll want to hear everything," Arthur spat after him.

  "Works for me."

  "Fine!"

  "Fine."

  Henry left the room, leaving Arthur, Praetorus, and Diana staring after him. Rebecca was still snoring softly on the bench, blissfully unaware of the conflict taking place.

  Arthur's face was burning hot as he sat back down on the table, feeling his head spin. He hadn't even been awake for an hour yet before causing more trouble within the group. Henry was right, though; in terms of reporting to Sir Paulus, the squire held the upper hand. It was too late to go back on his word; he was committed to the dragon hunt.

  "Pardon me." Diana's soft voice startled him. "You said you both were heading to the Mountain of the Dead?"

  "Yes." Arthur nodded. "What of it? You don't approve, either?"

  "On the contrary." She folded her arms. "As a matter of fact, I would like to accompany you."