First Attempt Chapter 3 & 4

So I managed to get another two chapters down. Now, these are mostly unrevised, I just went through them quickly. But I'd still love to get some comments on them. I'm also a bit concerned about chapter length as the fourth chapter is longer than all the other chapters together so far. And I'd rather not split it up as I'd like to keep every other chapter from a different viewpoint.

Chapter 3

"Hi!"
She flinched. How the hell had he snuck up on her like that? She was sure he'd done it on purpose. No matter how immersed in her work she became she'd never fail to hear steps outside the door not to mention the door itself opening. But there he stood on the other side of her desk smirking like always. How could he be so unmistakable one moment and completely inconspicuous the next? It didn't make any sense. Then again, nothing about him did.

"Hi." She said, making sure he'd notice just how much she hadn't enjoyed his prank. His smile just widened. She was relieved to see he had returned somewhat to his usual carefree self during the night.

"I thought I'd go play down at The Brawl and figured maybe you'd want to join me?" His request was sudden but she replied almost instantly.

"Sure!" Her face was beaming. She didn't care if she seemed too happy. She'd missed him. And she hadn't been down to The Brawl in some time anyway. There hadn't seemed to be any point without him there.

"Good! Wanna go right now or do you have to get ready?"

"I need a few minutes, but just wait here, it won't be that long." She said, knowing full well it would take more than 'a few minutes'.

"As you wish, milady." He said courteously, giving a small bow. She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, but walked into the backroom without another word.

Half an hour later she appeared again, dressed in a trendy black dress. The clothes were brand new, and she was sure these would ensnare any man who looked at her. At least that was what she had been telling herself in front of the mirror. She felt more secure in her choice as his pupils dilated at the sight of her. A detail her work had taught her to look for.

"Let's go, shall we?" She said before he could find a way to ruin it for her. She'd noticed that men had a habit of doing just that.

"By all means." He still had his courteous demeanor, but the moment's hesitation before he uttered the words revealed the effect she'd had on him. Contented, she walked away at his side. That he, in his black black shirt and white tie, matched her outfit so splendidly further improved her mood.

'The Brawl' was a small bar right next to the building where they spent most of their time. Having started out as a place where anyone could come up on stage and perform whatever they wished, it had become quite the popular place and was frequented by talent scouts looking for new talent.

She sat down at their usual table and watched as her mystery man talked to Bill the Bartender. Bill, whose title according to himself had 'been around since long before he actually got into bartending', seemed overjoyed to see his acquaintance back in town. They seemed to trade no more than a few sentences before Bill gave a shout to let his friend up on stage. He was something of a local legend and time was always made for his performances. She studied him as he picked out an instrument. Eventually he settled for the piano. He sat down and almost as soon as he began playing the club went silent. The music was magical. The melodies seemed to pour out as his fingers danced across the keys. Every single note seemed to envelop the entire room and pierce the heart of every being in it. Even before he'd begun singing tears were running down her cheeks. The quiet sobs around the room told her she wasn't the only one. Then came his voice and everything stopped. Nothing existed but the music. Nothing mattered but his voice. And she knew his pain.

The lyrics said nothing, and Theresa wondered what he could have lost to feel such agony. His lament left no one untouched, and by the end of the performance the hall was in mourning of unknown but not unsung heroes.

Chapter 4

The bar had closed and Gil was feeling better. Letting out his emotions with music had become his go-to response whenever his heart was struck a blow. Since his initial effusion at the piano he'd been up on stage four more times over the course of the evening. He'd been offered way more drinks than he could possibly handle and had early on switched to lighter alternatives.

They had made their way to the river and were now sitting on a ledge a few meters above the water. Gil was staring into the deep while Tess sat at his side, silently comforting him through the night. This was one of the things he found most attractive about the girl. No matter how inebriated she managed to get, she never became insufferable. She was the only person he'd ever met that he never seized to be able to tolerate. She was the reason he had stuck around for so long. This was what he thought to himself as he dangled his feet against the stone wall.

"What are you thinking about?" she mumbled, cozying up to his shoulder..
He hesitated before making his decision. "I was thinking that perhaps it's time for us to get home and go to sleep." He made a motion to get up when, but was held him down.
"Not yet." She pulled him in place by his arm. "Please? Let's just sit here for a little while longer. You could tell me one of your stories. Tell me the one about the boy and the dragon riders." Her begging eyes completely disarmed Gilligan, who's defences were already low.
"Fine." he conceded. "And you mean the tale of 'The Boy and The Dragon Wars'."
"Whatever." She yawned peacefully and moved to lay her head on his lap. "Just tell it already!"
"Okay then." he said, and started telling the story while stroking the short black hair of the pretty girl in his arms.


"Once upon a time, on an island far far away lived a boy with his family. They might have been a family of mages and their island a volcano, alive and angry, but they were a happy family nonetheless.

But the family kept a secret, a secret greater than most. One of which the runt of the family, a boy of no more than twelve, was blissfully unaware.

But then came the day when the Boy was to find out.

It was the day of the summer solstice and he was sitting in the grass, looking out over the ocean. A cloud so dark it poisoned the sky was approaching on the horizon. The boy studied it and as it got closer he slowly came to realise that it was not a cloud at all. It was a swarm. A swarm of dragons. It drew nearer, gradually blocking out the sun, and the boy could see what must have been a thousand dragons, each and every one with a rider on it's back. They were just like in the stories his mother had told. Varying in size from that of a horse to that of a house, there were dragons in black, red and dark shades of green, their long and slender bodies streaming through the air like a river in the sky. It was the most beautiful thing the boy had ever seen. And the most terrifying.

The boy got up and ran, screaming for his father and shouting for his mother. She barged out through their front door, chanting a spell the boy had never heard before. After her came his father, spouting even more unheard words. Then the dragons, who were closing in with speed like the wind, suddenly came to a halt right around the egde of the island. His parent never seized to chant as they motioned the boy to hide.

Glancing back again and again he ran to the safest place he knew: a miniature grotto created under a large rock protruding from the hillside. He crawled in and from there he watched. He saw as his parents struggle to hold the dragons at bay. How they did it he couldn't tell, the dragons simply seemed to be repelled by their words. And then he noticed a second cloud coming towards them from the north. This one more robust, and even faster.

Ships. They were ships flying through the air, and aboard them stood people. Hundreds of people, all wearing long robes and strange pointy hats. And the instant they reached the dragons a thousand bolts of fire and lightning rained down from the ships. The dragons turned towards them and what followed was the greatest battle the world has ever seen.

The dragons and their riders fought back as one, completely filling the sky with bright lights of death. There was fire and smoke, and a scent of blood spreading all the way to the boy's hiding place. He couldn't tell how long he lay in there, watching the events taking place on the island he called home. He felt as if he wasn't even there, as if it was all but a dream and he'd wake up at any moment. And then the earth shook. At first he thought he'd imagined it as no one else seemed to notice, but then it came again. It was bigger this time and accompanied by a great roar which turned the screams of thousands into a deafening silence in the blink of an eye. The boy looked at his parents, their chanting had stopped for the first time since it started. Then he looked at the ships whose every passenger had frozen in place, their faces wrought with fear.

And then he looked at the dragons. They were as still as creatures could be while keeping airborne. All of them were looking towards the same spot at the center of the island, waiting. The world shook a third time and now the dragons all burst out screeching. No, singing! The boy didn't know how he could tell, but he knew the dragons were singing. A terrible symphony of rythm void of all melody. The high-pitched screams cut into the ears of the boy who finally had succumb and hid his face beneath his arms trying to block the noise out.

In his protective shell he felt the fourth and final tremor. Far greater than any before it, it rattled the stone above him and he managed to crawl out just in time to avoid being crushed. He quickly forgot about his narrow escape when he, upon feeling a great heat, turned around only to see a giant dragon emerging from inside the volcano.

Far greater in size than any of the others, it towered over them as they sang in it's honor and they ascended together higher into the sky. It was a great beast with scales of brightest white. It had a particularly long neck, even among dragons, which ended in a slim, spiked head with a mouth big enough to gobble up a small cottage in one bite.

'Behemoth.' Said a voice beside him. It was his father who had caught up with him. 'The original dragon.'
'The original dragon?' the boy exclaimed. 'How can there be such a thing?'
'There are many things most people are not supposed to know about magic.' his father's voice was heavy, the very sound of it made the boy feel like a great weight fell upon his shoulders. 'This one was our secret to keep.'
At that moment the Behemoth gave out another great roar, spewing fire high into the air. The dragonriders took the roar as the order it must have been and swooped back down towards the flying ships. The people on the ships, who had been frozen solid in fascination at the sight of the magnificent being above them, sprung back to life as if time restarted for them. Hundreds of spells could be heard chanted in hurried shouts as shields were created and missiles of magic reached for the enemies above.

The boy's father pointed towards a smaller ship that had landed a small distance away from them and told him to run to it and seek shelter on it. Then he kissed the boy on the forehead and joined the fray. The boy did as he was told and boarded the ship. Almost as soon as he did it took off again and, to the boy's surprise, turned invisible together with everyone on it. It was a spell completely new to him and he momentarily wondered over not being able to see his own body before he returned his gaze to the battlefield.

It was an even battle. He could see his family fighting from the ground, supporting the warriors on their airships. Then his heart felt like it would break as he saw the bodies that were very slowly accumulating across the island. He looked at the dead and then, among them, he saw his sister. Lying lifeless, her chest had been pierced by the sharp tail of a writhing, dying dragon. He screamed. In futility he screamed while the battle raged on around him.

Then something happened. The earth shook again. Far far greater than even when the Behemoth had appeared the earth quaked. And then the volcano errupted. With a force unlike anything ever seen by human eyes it exploded, shooting burning rocks in all directions with a deafening boom. All the dragons turned and flew. So did the ships. But none could escape. Down fell molten lava and boulders big as horses, striking down dragons and ships alike. The boy's ship was struck just as Behemoth flew by and the boy jumped in sheer desperation, landing on the dragon by what could only be described as either luck or destiny.

Holding on by the spikes on it's back the boy was like a fly unto a cow, the beast didn't even appear to take notice. The boy looked back and saw all he'd ever known sink into the sea in a rain of fire while simultaneously shrinking into the distance. And so he screamed again. He screamed and he screamed until his voice gave out and then he screamed a silent scream far more terrible than any worded one might ever be.

And just as the boy was starting to loose himself to exhaution the dragon stopped dead in it's tracks. It roared like thunder, clutching it's chest with winged arms and then fell into the sea, taking the boy with him. No one knows what caused the dragon to drop. And no one has ever heard of either the boy or the dragon ever since."



When he finished the story Gilligan was teary-eyed and hoarse. He felt Tess snoaring lightly, having fallen asleep in his lap.

"That was an interesting story." There was someone in the darkness behind him. "It rings an oddly familiar bell." Recognising the voice, Gil turned to his left to greet the goblin who'd appeared at his side. It was a very short, green creature with a big head and thin arms.

"Good to see you, Tim." He said sarcastically. The goblin never showed up just to say hello.

"Well, I heard you had come back. And you're my duty. I can hardly let you be then, can I?" Tim sat down next to Gil on the other side of the sleeping girl.

"Something tells me you didn't try very hard."

"Well, you know. I've got myself to feed." The goblin chuckled. Glligan looked sceptically as Tim scratched his potbelly.

"You know, I've got myself to take care of as well. It becomes kind of hard with you people dropping by uninvited all the time." Gil reminded the goblin.

"Huh?"

"Ace came by earlier, just as I came back."

"Ah, Richter. Yeah, I heard about that. But you can hardly blame me for his always being in such a hurry." Tim always seemed to have bits of information that he rightly shouldn't possess.

"Don't even try it, goblin. You would have too if it hadn't been daylight!"
"Perhaps I would have. But I didn't, did I?"

"What do you want?" Gilligan was too tired to argue and just wanted to get it over with.

"In the months you've been gone there has been an unsettling in the underground. A lot of powerful people have been getting nervous with the war coming close..."

"But it's not a war!"

"Call it whatever you want. To us it's a war. Now shut up and listen!" The goblin was clearly annoyed with having been interrupted. His story was far too important to be interrupted. "Many of the big rollers have been panicking, which has led to a lot of shifts in the balance of power as the old bosses check out and go into hiding or start building private armies for security. Now what's important about this is that it has opened up a couple of opportunities for me as well." He looked pleased with himself, probably mistaking Gil's look of disinterest for one of disbelief. "But I need someone of power to back me up. And that's where you come in."His tone of voice changed and Gilligan knew that this was where the sales pitch would start.

"Now, before you say no, consider this: With your backing I'll be able to push myself up to a position as one of the Twelve. This will give me quite a lot of say within the Underworld, and as an old friend and benefactor that by extension gives you a lot of say. And I know you need all the help you can get. " The goblin smirked and rubbed his hands together, entirely sure of his success.

"And what exactly would I have to do?" Now it was Gil's turn to smirk as the goblin squirmed at the question.

"All you'd have to do was stand at my side should any... obstacles appear." Gilligan couldn't believe Tim had actually made something sound that suspicious by accident.

"Out with it. What are these 'obstacles'?" Gil was far too tired to beat around the bush.

"Okay, I'll be honest. I might need you to procure something for me." he confessed.

"I knew it. What is it?" Gil demanded, his eyes weary.

"A dragon heart." Tim said without a hint of irony.

"Shit." This time Gil's look truly was one of disbelief. "A dragon heart? What the hell would you need something like that for?"

"Well, you see, I'm eligible for a position among the twelve, I'd be number eight to be exact, but there's no way to get a title without a dragons heart. It's a vital symbol of power and the only way to keep the equilibrium of among the clans. Usually they get handed down from one of the previous numbers but, with the state of things, I'd need to get ahold of one on my own." The goblin really didn't seem to realise what he was asking for. "And it doesn't really matter how you get one. But I do have a suggestion."

"What?" Gilligan asked, fearing the answer.

"Richter has one." He answered, hintingly. It was truly an answer to fear.

"I'll think about it." Gilligan couldn't believe he actually meant to think on it. He needed all the help he could get, that part was true, but Ace would hardly be ready to part with his dragon heart. Not for a goblin. Never for a criminal goblin. He would have to steal it.

"You think about it. Contact me when you've decided. I'll be waiting." And with that the goblin returned to the shadows.

The thought was daunting. Stealing a dragon heart from a senior member of the warlock council. He couldn't deny that the idea intruiged him. It was a challenge even more exciting than any of the hardship he'd suffered in the desert. He couldn't deny that he wanted it.

He picked up sleeping beauty, giving her a piggy back ride home. When they were almost there she stirred awake.

"Hey, why are you carrying me?" she asked.

"Because I didn't want to wake you. And I doubt I could have if I tried." he teased her.

"Well I can walk the rest of the way. We're almost there anyway." She managed to step down on the ground without falling, but still decided to lean against his shoulder for the short walk remaining. They opened the door to their run down building and walked up to her door; the third one on the left.

"You know," she said with that begging look in her eyes. " if you're still sad, you could stay with me tonight. I'll comfort you."
He wanted to. By the gods he wanted to, but he couldn't. Not tonight. Not like this. So, with what seemed like the greatest amount of self control he had ever been able to muster, he told her.

"No. You need to sleep, and I think this is something I have to sort out on my own." He couldn't believe his own words even as he spoke them. With a drunken look of deep disappointment Theresa accepted.

"Okay then... I guess I'll see you tomorrow..."

"Come by when you wake up. I'll have coffee ready." He tried to make the words sound normal and uplifting but instead they came out like a mockery of all things good to say. She closed the door behind her and he walked away feeling like the fool he was. Why had he turned her down? He couldn't even rationalize it to himself. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd accepted such an offer, and it had never ended badly before. He was still trying to explain his own behavior as he fell asleep.