Paragon Of Destruction

"The first thing you should know about dragons," Snowcloud said, "is that they are vile beasts. Giant, vicious, and cannibalistic monsters, with the disposition of rabid dogs and half the intelligence."

Arran frowned somewhat sourly. "But the stories say they're intelligent, and have magical powers," he finally said, once more remembering the tales of dragons he had heard as a young boy. And while those were just stories, he still found himself reluctant to simply abandon them.

"The stories are wrong," Snowcloud replied flatly. "Or mostly wrong, at least."

"Then what's the truth?" Arran asked, unwilling to let go of his childhood dreams so easily.

A thoughtful expression appeared on Snowcloud's face. "I suppose I should explain how dragons grow up. That should give you a better idea of the kind of creatures we're after."

She took a deep breath, then began to speak, with Arran listening intently.

"Dragons are born from eggs," she said, "and the females lay hundreds at a time, then promptly abandon the nest. Once the whelps hatch, they kill their siblings, fighting until only one remains, and feeding on the bodies.

"The lone survivor — the size of a horse, by then — will hunt in the surrounding area, killing and eating whatever it finds. Animals, people, other dragons — they'll eat anything that moves, and they're strong enough that even adepts will struggle to kill them."

Arran didn't interrupt Snowcloud as she spoke, but his expression slowly turned ugly. From Snowcloud's description, dragons more resembled vicious beasts than the magical creatures he'd heard about in his childhood stories.

"After about a century of constant hunting and feeding," she continued, "a dragon will be the size of a house. When it approaches maturity, it will grow wings, allowing it to hunt across an even larger area. By then, it will be able to easily match Masters in combat, with a thick hide that resists both magic and weapons. The longer it lives, the larger and stronger it gets — but as strong and vicious as dragons are, they're simple creatures. Their entire life consists of hunting, eating, and sleeping."

"So dragons aren't intelligent?" Arran asked, now feeling somewhat dejected. "What about magic? I thought they could use that?"

"Dragons aren't naturally intelligent," Snowcloud replied. "But as they spend centuries eating any living thing they encounter, they steadily absorb vast amounts of Natural Essence. If they live long enough, that eventually allows them to gain some intelligence — enough to practice magic, in very rare cases."

Arran sighed in disappointment, then asked, "What kind of dragon do we need?"

"A young adult," Snowcloud replied. "A few centuries old, but no more than that."

"A few centuries old? But didn't you say that a century-old dragon is already strong enough to match a Master?"

While Arran was growing more confident in his abilities, he knew he was still far from being able to match an adept, much less a Master. Against an even more formidable enemy, the two of them wouldn't stand a chance.

If Snowcloud's plan required them to defeat such a foe, there was no point in even trying — they might as well turn back now, because even with all the luck in the world, there was no chance of success.

However, Snowcloud merely nodded in response, her expression confident, and Arran understood that she must have something in mind that would give them at least a chance succeeding.

"We're not going to fight it," she said. "We're going to poison it."

"Poison it?"

"With the ingredients we've collected, I can recreate the poison that was used on Grandfather." There was some pride in Snowcloud's eyes. "That's what we will use on the dragon."

Arran breathed a sigh of relief. "So we wait for the poison to kill the dragon, and then we collect its blood?"

"Not exactly," Snowcloud replied. "Dragons are highly resistant to poison, and although this poison should be strong enough to make it fall ill, it will eventually recover. Once it does, its blood will be an antidote to the poison."

Arran frowned. "But how can we kill the dragon if we allow it to recover?"

"That's the difficult part," Snowcloud said, her expression turning somewhat troubled. "We have to strike right when the effects of the poison begin to wear off, but while it's still too weak to fight. If we're too late, we cannot defeat the dragon. And if we attack too soon, the dragon's blood will kill me."

"The blood will kill you?" Arran asked, confused. "Isn't the blood intended for your grandfather?"

Snowcloud took a deep breath, then gave Arran a hesitant look. "The antidote in the dragon's blood will only keep for a few days after it dies," she said. "But if I take it myself, the immunity will be passed on to me, and I can use some of my own blood to cure Grandfather." With a small sigh, she added, "At least, that's how it's supposed to work."

For several moments, Arran remained silent, looking at Snowcloud in astonishment. When he finally spoke, he could not keep the disbelief from his voice.

"So your plan is to find a dragon as strong as a Master, somehow manage to poison it, let it recover before fighting it, and then drink its blood while hoping it doesn't kill you?" He gave Snowcloud a flat stare. "And you think that's going to work?"

By now, any enthusiasm he felt about fighting a dragon was long gone. Snowcloud's plan — if it could even be called that — sounded like suicide. He had no idea of how they'd even poison the dragon, and that was just the first step. Everything that came after was pure insanity.

"I know it sounds like madness," she replied. "But I don't know of any other way to cure Grandfather. And if he doesn't recover, it won't just affect me — without him, the conflict in the Sixth Valley can only descend into war." She looked at Arran dejectedly. "If you don't want to come with me, I understand. But I cannot turn back from this."

Arran didn't reply immediately, taking his time to consider the situation. By any reasonable standard, Snowcloud's plan was utterly insane. Thousands of things could go wrong, and the chances of it working seemed almost non-existent. And yet…

He shrugged. "I've followed you this far. I might as well see it through."

The plan was pure madness, but then, it was hardly crazier than facing an entire army or fighting dozens of mages by himself.

Moreover, if it was dangerous for the both of them together, it would be all but impossible for Snowcloud to succeed without his help — and it was clear that she had no intention of turning back, no matter the danger.

"Then I'll be glad to have you with me," Snowcloud said, relief visible in her eyes. Determined though she might be, it was clear that she understood how little chance she had of succeeding by herself.

"There's one thing you should know," Arran said.

"What is it?" Snowcloud asked.

"If we die, I'm blaming you."