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The Storm Front

by Anthony Johnson

In the frontier regions of the Southern Plains, men have wandered for miles to find safe harbor against the beasts and outlaws. Any town that survived in the plains had a wooden wall separating it from the outside world, and a gate that allowed visitors and farmers in at will. Such a town was found at the edges of the Southern Plains, taking cover under the side of a mountain ridge.

Ramah was one of those men that traveled to gain entry to the town. His plated armor reflected the sunlight with its combination of polished steel and gold trim when not covered by the green cape on his back.

Inside this town, Ramah greeted the guards while passing through the gate. The plated armor he wore reflected the sunlight in its combination of polished steel and gold trim when not covered by his green cape. He smiled as children ran around with little toys and their parents equally celebrated in the late spring sun as he walked toward his first destination since walking miles from his home in the mountain nearby: a tavern known as The Storm Keeper.

The cheers only grew louder inside the bar, where almost every seat supported a man or woman as they drink their fill. Overhead, a temporary banner made from hide and ink read, "Thank Creation for our lives, thank the Storms for our survival."

Ramah took a moment for a testing pull on his fake brown hair, knowing the banner was referring to the dragons that defended the town, including himself. He had a hard enough time using his magic to hide among humans and keep the rumor mill of his existence outside the town to a minimum. Even so, the people he protected made his visits a special event for the hundredth time since he started. At least they made sure to keep any other visitors from outside town away from the center square so he could do his work during without much worry.

A seat opened up at the end of the bar when another fell over with one too many in his system, allowing Ramah to sit close to the door. He didn't have to wait long for the barkeep's attention, and he slid a couple gold coins in both greeting and exchange for service and a room upstairs. He turned his yellow eyes toward the crowd and taken in the sights as quickly as the customers downed their beverages. Sometimes, he was given an opportunity to get a greeting in while one took a moment to breath.

Ramah turned back to the counter when his first tankard ale arrived. He was happy enough to keep up appearances with conversation while his mind dwelled on business. That is, until he heard the door open violently. He glanced over the lip of his tankard over to the entrance to see a man in armor stomp close to his left and wave to the barkeep.

The unpolished plates covered the man's chest, while bits of leather protected the joints to provide some semblance of mobility. It certainly wasn't something Ramah recognized from the locals, and considering his demeanor, the man wasn't satisfied with the service's delay among all of the other customers. The man's sandy blonde hair swept back easily in his hands, and his eyebrows knit together in a stark contrast to the happy faces Ramah saw around town.

"Bah! First I cannot find a dragon and now I cannot find a drink," said the man. "I, Henry Locksman, the Master of the Hunt!" Henry's fist slammed down onto the counter inches from Ramah, scratching a small gash into its surface. His grey eyes locked on to Ramah's drink, the dragon's eyes looking back over the lip of the tankard before he set it down.

"Thank you for your polite greeting, and I am Ramah Stormset, by the way," Ramah said. He covered one ear with his free hand hoping it would remind Henry how close they were. The other hand set down the half-empty tankard as another was set next to it. He pushed the new drink toward Henry, hoping it would calm the man enough for a quieter tone. He watched intently when it was accepted by the man with a few quick gulps. Most experienced hunters he avoided didn't make their intentions known, so he decided to take this opportunity to test the waters of Henry. "I take it you have business with this dragon?"

"Indeed," Henry said. He slammed his tankard down as Ramah pulled up his own. "With its head I will make a name for myself. One of a dragon hunter!" Henry thrust one hand in the air for emphasis, since there was no stool to stand one foot on. He nearly knocked the mug his conversation partner held on to with his fervor.

Even so, Ramah sputtered a bit in his drink. He glanced over to Henry wondering how serious he could take this hunter and his exaggerated motion. "Sir, you jest," He said. "If you speak such things around here, they may think you mad." He pointed over his shoulder to the crowd. A quick glance to the side confirmed Ramah's suspicions that most of the customers didn't hear or didn't care. "And mad men get locked away from the common folk."

"If I am a mad man, then this town is an asylum," Henry said with a huff. "One where each person speaks madness about a dragon needing to be praised for their protection instead of their Creators." He leaned in close to Ramah, yet he never quiets his tone as he does so. "If not for its distance from the Empire, then this town would be slain, every man, woman and child, for doing so."

Ramah stared at Henry for a moment, his smile long gone upon mentioning death and the Empire. He remembered hearing from seasoned travelers and other dragons passing through about it. Its government and its religion were inseparable, and in its short life so far of fifty years, it had taken territory that spanned a week's travel by foot, and growing as it defeated independent towns around it.

But it wasn't its growth that worried Ramah. It was the fanatics within the core of the Empire's religion. Towns within its borders were forced to give up young men and women for religious indoctrinations, of which much involved killing what the Empire considered evil. Dragons, gryphons, vampires, elves, and other creatures of similar intelligence. In some cases entire towns that refused the Empire's rule of law were slain for the cause as well, leading the dragon to believe they did not care what they were if they didn't share a common goal.

"Then," Ramah replied carefully. "Would you raise your blade against your own? In this bar, alone, for your beliefs in your Creators?" Ramah pushed on Henry's chest with his free hand, finding resistance in his attempt to move the man away. He did not want to kill the man if he could help it, but he also did not believe in idle threats.

"Aye," Henry said.

"And if many cried for mercy," Ramah continued. "If they say they will turn to your cause if they repented from this heresy, would you use that same blade to protect them?"

Henry recoiled from the bar. His face visibly twisted in offense to the question. "Sir, what is your trade if you sympathize with the enemy," He said. The hunter knocked his own drink over with his arm as he swept it across the room. "The town, by Empire edict, would be burned for its heresy regardless of the people's alignment toward Creator or dragon!"

Ramah realized Henry's shouts were attracting more attention when a hush fell over the crowd. He took the last of his drink in one breath, his loud gulps drowned out what whispers he could hear. The tankard never found the counter afterward. Instead, Ramah swung it around to strike against the head of his conversation partner. The crowd did not make a move for either's defense as the hunter fell to the floor, blood drawn by the simple object.

Henry covered the wound to his face with one hand, his other searched for a sword at his side. Although he found it easily, a small red band called a peace tie from the gate guards kept him from drawing it without some considerable effort. Effort that required time Ramah did not want to give. Ramah grabbed his armor, lifting him up and off the ground easily to throw Henry through the door and out of the building.

Ramah hoped Henry's exit didn't interrupt too many outside the building, but he still turned to the bartender and bowed in apology. "I will be back, Sir Ridley. Have some meat ready for me if you could." Ramah said. He noted a split in the door frame where Henry's shoulder must have impacted on the way out, but more pressing matters were outside. It seemed the hunter had worked the peace tie off of his sword while he was inside apologizing.

"This injury will not be unanswered, sir," Henry said. He swung his sword a couple times in the air, making no idle threats with its motion. "Draw your sword, and we will see who is the better man this day!"

Ramah rolled his shoulders a moment and cracked his knuckles underneath his gauntlets, but made no intention to gain a weapon. Just from Henry's motions alone with the sword, Ramah figured the hunter was more used to cutting wood and deer than dragons with it. He looked around and spied a guard from the gate approaching, and waved the man away towards some bystanders. The town's people needed more help than he did when someone drawn a sword.

"You do not raise a sword," Henry said. "Then I will cut you down where you stand!" He raised the sword overhead to bear down on Ramah.

Ramah did not remain still, however. He stepped to the side of Henry, and grabbed the hunter's sword arm just below the elbow. A sickening crack of bone and a scream later, the sword dropped to the ground without an owner. Ramah heard a pained sob from Henry as he kicked the blade away from the both of them. He looked over his opponent, who nursed a broken right arm in reward for his attempt at Ramah's life.

"I don't think you are the bravest hunter from the Empire," Ramah said, gritting his teeth. Each tooth was as sharp as the last in the row, one of a couple details the dragon could not change with magic to hide. "But considering you came alone, you may be one of the worst trained." He looked down at the broken tie from Henry's sword. Without the tie, Henry was fair game for punishment by the town guards. "I would wager you never hunted a dragon before now."

Ramah noticed some of the unarmed adults starting to round up the children, taking them to buildings nearby. Just like many of the adults though, some children stared at the spectacle that is the two armored men. Ramah did not like making himself the center of attention in town, yet in his decision to punish the loud-mouthed hunter, he forgot about the bigger audience outside the tavern.

Ramah nodded to the guard from earlier as he carefully approached his side, spear at the ready but pointed toward Henry. "Sir Jacob, arrest this man and bring him with me." Ramah looked over and motioned to Henry a moment. Jacob nodded and put his spear away to grab the injured man and stand him up eye to eye with Ramah.

"So, you control these people," Henry said. "The only thing worse than heretics are those that spread the lies for their own benefit." The hunter blinked past blood and tears in his eyes. He would have crossed himself if he wasn't holding his injured arm.

"That would usually earn a broken jaw in the wrong places, Sir Henry," Ramah said. "But you are at least partly right in your hypocrisy. These people do not worship dragons as gods, so your Creators are safe." Ramah walked past the hunter and the guard towards the center of town, signaling both of them to follow. "But, they do respect their guardians enough to at least celebrate our stay here once in a while."

Ramah felt slightly more relaxed once he and his current guest passed by a small group of guards in chainmail. A small sign next to them gave warning that the central square was closed for the day, yet none of the guards attempted to relay that fact to the three passing them. Once far enough behind the guards, he let his wings out from under the green cape he wore. He always felt better when he didn't have to twist his wings and tail underneath the threads of clothing. He dismissed the rest of his disguise as he traveled, letting one yellow-scaled hand reach up past his lengthening face to pull once again at the brown hair. This time, it came off as if the wind could have kicked it off the dragon's head. The scales exposed to the sun shone nearly as well as the armor they were protecting.

Ramah felt a bit of weight lift off of his thoughts after dismissing his disguise. Such changes using magic took a lot of focus to keep alive. The sudden ability to think more quickly and clearly allowed him to better appreciate the platform he approached at the center of town.

Where the walkways are just cobblestone, the platform in the town square betrayed a greater skill in its cut of stone. It rose from the ground a foot over its surroundings, and carvings of foreign letters and symbols covered the surface of the stone on top. All of the carvings glowed with light unnatural to the sun and the stone.

"Sir Henry, I welcome you to Storm Front," Ramah said. He still kept some respect in his voice toward Henry, even if he had tried killing him a short time ago. The revealed dragon turned to the hunter. His draconic eyes locked with Henry's for a moment as he drank in the hunter's open-mouthed reaction to his appearance. "It is hard to believe that this bit of magic is older than I am."

"Age does not matter when an army comes to destroy what you make, dragon," Henry said. Ramah heard the words as they bled with Henry's hatred as much as the hunter's face did with lifeblood moments ago.

"If an army cared enough to travel this far, I would be surprised," Ramah said, his patience waning a bit more each time he heard the hunter speak. It would take a week's walk from the edges of the Empire's current borders to get to this town, and he doubted such a government would have a force that close waiting for news of his existence. "And should they do so, Storm Front was made to defend this town."

His eyes narrowed on Henry's head wound, which had dirt sticking to the blood on the hunter's face. It wouldn't do to have this guest take fever if he spared Henry. Ramah searched his pockets a moment and pulled out a cloth from his armor to wipe the blood and dirt off of the hunter's face.

"Do not patronize me, dragon," Henry said. He tried to move his face away from the cloth with no success. The guard still held his good arm firmly from behind with both hands, restricting his movement. "Your kind sows chaos and destruction wherever you reside!"

"I fear for most humans with your beliefs, Sir Henry," Ramah said. He finished cleaning off the wound, a cut only a half-inch long, before stuffing the cloth into the collar of the hunter's armor. Ramah shook his head over Henry's complaints and stepped onto the stone platform. "If you will excuse me, I have work to do."

Ramah's eyes swept along the surface as he walked to the platform's center. Its length came to thirty feet on each side, with runes circling a large copper plate in the center. The plate was set an inch into the stone around it with a storm and shield engraved on its surface. In the same carved language that circled the outer parts of the platform, a dragon's message wrapped itself around the shield. Ramah read his own written language to himself each time he came to the platform, even when he didn't want to: "This aura of protection is given to those who weathered Justice's wrathful storms, whose children must maintain for three hundred years."

He disliked those engraved words. Justice was his father, and Ramah was only one of five children charged to defend and maintain the Storm Front for the town. But, unlike his brothers and sisters charged with the task, he was the only one left living to continue this agreement after his oldest sister was slain by a raiding flock of gryphons in the nearby mountains. That meant he had to stay near the town without relief with a hundred years left to cover and only a bit of time for himself to find other dragons' company. The only exceptions of this was his death or the Storm Front's destruction by another dragon. Neither was a viable choice in his opinion.

With one hand, he traced the words as he inhaled deeply and violently exhaled. Electricity danced on his breath, touching the plate and quickly conducting itself to it. A heavy click resonated through the stonework, followed by the sound of grinding clockwork as the plate lifted to reveal an entire electrical device underneath dragons called a Runic Engine. Three rods crackling with energy overtook a majority of the space, yet enough of what it provided permeated into other surrounding rods to power the rest of the platform. Ramah took a deep breath and reached in, feeling around the inner chamber around the Runic Engine until he felt each of the outer rods that penetrated the stone. One in particular he removed for closer examination when he felt an odd substance on the tip.

It was a small copper rod with a gold tip that was visibly scorched black, and as he prodded the gold with a clawtip, a hissing sound came from the rod. He didn't have any extra supplies here, and the rods were made specially with a few tools in his cave. Left with little choice, he placed the rod back where it came from for now. Aside from the single scorched rod, the dragon was satisfied with the device's longevity and struck a small latch to let the copper plate grind back into place.

"A conductor is ready to burn out, but the engine is running like it did fifty years ago. I will need to replace that, and I can get the new rod in by next week," Ramah said. He wiped his hands on the same cloth that he used to clean up Henry's face before, the browning blood now mixed with black soot. "Make sure the mayor knows of my next visit, but don't bother with the rest of the folk."

"Aye, my lord," Jacob said. He snaps to attention, still holding one hand on Henry. "What shall we do with our guest?"

"I am no guest to a dragon or his subjects," Henry said.

"Ah, you think they work for me," Ramah said. He sat on the edge of the platform, looking over Henry a moment. The hunter's face stopped bleeding, but Ramah could tell he still held the same indignation toward the dragon in his words. The broken arm he gave the man earlier was already swelling up much more than he wanted, but the town could easily take care of his arm for him. "I would not be working on a runic engine for humans if I could help it, Sir Henry."

"You lie, dragon," Henry said. He leaned forward as much as he could toward Ramah. "I see through your sorcery and lies though, and when these people hear me they will slay you upon your next greeting!"

Ramah gritted his teeth against the insults Henry laid into him with. "You are lucky my patience is of lightning more than fire, Sir Henry." He stood up and walked away from the platform, waving Jacob forward with Henry in tow.

"Even if you slay me now, my followers know where I have traveled! They will surely bring others to find me," Henry said. He shouted at the top of his lungs, making heads of other people turn in his passing and forcing Ramah to cover his closer ear.

Ramah stopped when he heard the words of his guest. He was likely correct about others knowing where he traveled and slaying him was the last thing on his mind. Yet, he couldn't allow the hunter to simply walk out the front gate. Making someone forget wasn't a specialty of his, but he knew another way through the town's own abilities.

Ramah took the time to look at a large building at the end of the walkways. Its walls were of a black ash, as if fire had consumed the shell, yet left it standing as a grim reminder of what it was before. Besides the Storm Front he just maintained, it was the only surviving structure from the beginnings of the town. He heard from Justice that he burned the town solely for the things they did before in that building. It was something involving a perversion of nature and dragonkind. Now, it was used to hold criminals, and the mayor last he asked of the prisoners mentioned a positive reform for most of those that entered.

"It will do." Ramah said. He turned to Henry with a smile. "If your finding is important, then they shall find you. I will take a rest for the night before returning to my own dwelling," Ramah patted Henry on his uninjured shoulder. He received a grunt from the hunter in reply. "But you, Sir Henry, will be staying for a while longer."

The black building's large double doors swung open as Ramah spoke to Henry, a wordless scream on the blackened face of the building. "I know not what these townspeople do, but I will guarantee you will be alive and well by the time your comrades arrive." Ramah whispered his final words to Henry.

With a gesture, Henry is once again moved by Jacob, this time away from the dragon and towards the building. The hunter's complaints and howling could be heard by the citizens of the town, even after he was shut away from prying eyes. As for Ramah, he turned for the tavern to grab some food and sleep for the night, not a thought of pity spent on the first visitor he bothered speaking with that day.