Chapter 52 — Beneath the Dead Dragon

Chapter 52: Chapter 52 — Beneath the Dead Dragon

Chapter 52 — Beneath the Dead Dragon

The waystation appeared as a wall beneath the vines.

Walter nearly walked past it; only the straight edge of a window revealed that the green mound beside the road was a building.

Owen cut away enough growth to expose a stone entrance, where the wooden door had rotted from its hinges, leaving an opening filled with leaves.

Godfrey entered first.

The main room contained a cold hearth, two stone benches and the remains of a table, with a smaller room opening behind it; nothing lived inside except insects and a lizard that fled beneath the leaves.

The stable stood beyond the rear wall.

Its stalls were enormous.

Christopher could stand inside one with his arms spread and touch neither side; iron rings thicker than his fingers were fixed into the walls, and stone feeding troughs reached his waist. Several had cracked, but the foundations remained sound.

"These stalls were not built for horses," Walter said.

Owen cleared a rusted fitting from the floor that curved like part of a breastplate, wide enough to fit around a barrel.

They found more beneath the collapsed tack-room roof: lengths of chain, metal plates and pieces of hardened leather, most useless after centuries, though their size alone explained their purpose.

Walter lifted part of a harness, and the leather broke in his hands. "We would need new equipment."

"And someone who knows how to train them," Godfrey added. "And enough food. And people strong enough not to die when one turns."

Christopher considered the open grass beyond the rear wall; the distant herd might explain the scale of the building, though they would need a beast handler to know more.

They searched the waystation and found only ordinary rooms: a stone cabinet held grooming tools, all rusted, and scratched marks on one stall recorded the growth of an animal over several years, the final line standing above Christopher’s head.

Behind the stable, a fenced paddock had become open grassland, though sections of the wall still stood, and an old loading ramp led toward the road.

Walter found grooves worn into the ramp where broad feet had climbed repeatedly, and beside it a narrow passage allowed handlers to move without standing directly in front of an animal.

"They knew what happened when one became angry," Godfrey said.

A small room overlooked the stalls through protected slits, iron levers still set in its wall; pulling one released a fallen gate with enough force to shake dust from the roof.

Owen glared at Walter, who had pulled it.

"It worked," Walter said.

Owen stared at the shattered edge of the trough. "It nearly crushed that."

"Then I will stand farther back before touching the next lever."

The place needed repairs, but the roof remained sound.

They left their heavier samples in the main room and marked the entrance; Owen wanted to return with workers to clear the roof before rain brought it down.

The road beyond the waystation climbed gradually, kept mostly dry by worked drains, though in damaged sections tree roots had split the paving stones.

They passed another abandoned field, then a quarry cut into the hillside, where blocks remained stacked near its entrance, already shaped for transport, the exposed stone matching parts of the nearby castle.

Owen examined it with open admiration.

"Can we use it?" Christopher asked.

"With quarrymen, carts, draft animals and enough workers to clear the road," Owen said. "The stone is the easy part."

"You say that about everything."

"Because everything needs people, my lord."

The reminder returned Christopher’s thoughts to Dragonwatch: the small plane contained land, timber, stone, ore and perhaps medicine, but his settlement still lacked the specialists capable of developing any of it.

He could buy labor eventually; skilled people were harder. A miner could distinguish useful ore from attractive stone, an herbalist could keep poison out of Mabel’s medicines, and a beast handler might understand the old stable better than a knight studying broken harnesses.

Money could attract some; others might come only once Dragonwatch became safer and less isolated.

The resources could make Dragonwatch wealthy. First, it needed enough people to reach them.

Near midday, Walter found tracks crossing the road that resembled wolf prints but were twice the size; the animals had travelled in a group of five or six.

Godfrey followed the trail only far enough to determine its direction: it moved away from the castle.

"They avoided the road?" Christopher asked.

"They crossed it quickly. Look at the stride."

Something had driven them downhill.

The pressure became noticeable that afternoon.

Christopher first mistook it for the strain of climbing, his shoulders tightening; Mabel grew quieter, and Owen kept looking behind them.

"Do you feel watched?" Walter asked.

"I have felt it since the last turn in the road," Owen said.

Godfrey stopped the group. "Not watched. Pressured."

Christopher opened Dragon Eyes.

The world toward the castle carried a faint weight, too broad to resemble a living person’s aura, lying across the mountain and surrounding forest like invisible weather.

"It comes from ahead," he said.

Godfrey tested it with his own Knight senses. "Old. Very strong once."

They continued.

The pressure stayed even as they climbed, though their bodies slowly adjusted: Christopher felt it least, Godfrey walked normally, Walter remained alert, while Owen and Mabel needed more frequent rests.

The forest thinned as they approached the castle mountain, the trees growing shorter, their bark dark and unusually hard; metallic red flowers grew between the stones, and Mabel collected only one.

No large beasts appeared.

Birds still moved through the branches, and insects filled the warm air. The absence was limited to creatures strong enough to challenge travelers elsewhere in the valley.

At the next ridge, they saw the castle clearly.

It occupied a broad shelf above them, the outer walls forming several layers climbing the mountain; towers flanked a gate large enough for the mounts that once used the waystation, and behind them rose the main keep and long structures with openings far taller than ordinary doors.

One wall had collapsed, but the rest remained astonishingly intact.

The wyrms circled beyond the opposite ridge; one approached the castle, shuddered in the air and turned aside.

"Whatever causes the pressure is inside," Godfrey said.

They made camp below the final climb rather than arriving near dark.

The chosen ground contained the remains of another roadside structure, little more than three walls and a stone floor; Walter checked every corner before they used it, and once Owen judged the surviving roof unsafe, they slept outside the walls rather than beneath it.

Mabel examined the party: the pressure had caused headaches in Owen and Walter but no fever, confusion or lasting weakness, and she ordered everyone to report dreams, numbness or changes in sight.

"What kind of dreams?" Walter asked.

"Any dream you remember clearly," Mabel replied.

"I always remember bad ones."

"Then tell me if tonight’s are worse than usual."

Christopher felt the immense presence ahead but no pain, and still watched the others closely.

Walter checked the ground and found no recent tracks from people, Owen studied the castle silhouette until sunset, and Mabel sorted samples, labelling where each had been collected.

Christopher reopened the far-side gate through the pendant; this time the distance from the mountain platform did not matter, and the connection responded through the plane, though it took longer to form.

Simon appeared in the Dragonwatch control room.

Christopher reported that the group was safe and would reach the castle the next day, and ordered more empty sample bags, food and two tools prepared for their return; Simon repeated the orders before Christopher closed the gate.

The gate closed.

"If the castle is empty," Walter said, "how much can five people carry?"

"Very little without carts or more people," Christopher replied.

"Then why are we hurrying to reach it?"

Christopher looked up at the walls.

"Because I need to know what we found before deciding what Dragonwatch must become to use it."

Godfrey nodded toward the bedrolls. "Then sleep. The answer will remain there until morning."

During Christopher’s watch, a distant roar crossed the valley.

The sound came from far beyond the castle, perhaps from one of the wyrms, and nothing answered from the walls.

The pressure remained steady and ancient.

At dawn, they began the final climb.

They left the camp standing, so that if the castle proved unsafe they could return here rather than search for shelter while retreating, and Walter marked the route with three stones at every turn.

The open gate waited above them, dark against the morning sky.

Nothing moved there.

The castle gate stood open.

One door leaned against the wall, twisted at its upper hinge, and the other had fallen outward and cracked the paving stones, each thick enough to withstand a battering ram.

Godfrey examined the ground before allowing anyone through.

Dust and windblown leaves covered the entrance; small animals had crossed recently, but no human footprints appeared.

The pressure was stronger here.

Owen rubbed his arms. "It feels like a storm about to break."

Mabel nodded, and Walter kept one hand near his sword despite having nothing to strike.

Christopher felt the weight too, but something inside his awakened blood answered it, heat moving behind his eyes; the pressure recognized him as neither prey nor equal—it simply existed.

They entered.

The first courtyard had been built on a scale larger than Dragonwatch, stone ramps rising beside ordinary stairs; hitching posts resembled short pillars, and long barracks flanked the walls, their roofs partly collapsed.

Their boots sounded too loud on the paving stones. Wind entered through the broken gate behind them, crossed the empty yard and stirred scraps of rotted cloth beneath the covered walk, and Christopher kept expecting an answering movement from the dark windows—none came.

Godfrey divided them without letting anyone out of sight. Walter checked the nearest doors while Owen studied the walls and Mabel watched the gaps between buildings. Christopher remained near the centre of the court, where Dragon Eyes could cover each entrance without holding the bloodline active for long.

"No droppings," Walter said when he returned from the first doorway. "Nothing large has nested here."

"The pressure keeps them away," Mabel said.

Godfrey faced the eastern wall. "Then we find its source before we decide the place is safe."

A rusted helm lay near the gate; Godfrey turned it with his boot and found it sized for a person, not a giant, though its design matched the scale-patterned armor shown in the command image.

They left it where it lay.

Walter checked the barracks nearest the gate while the others waited outside: rows of human-sized bunks filled the lower floor, and above them a broad loft opened through doors facing the courtyard—the building had housed ordinary soldiers or Knight retainers, not dragons.

The opposite structure contained storage bays and ramps where empty wagon frames had collapsed, their wheel rims made from metal that remained mostly free of rust.

Owen wanted a sample, and Godfrey allowed him to remove one loose fitting after Christopher confirmed no visible formation touched it.

Even the outer court contained materials better than Dragonwatch possessed; carrying them home remained the problem.

The courtyard opened toward a second gate, beyond which the main castle climbed the mountain in terraces.

Walter found the dragon while checking the eastern wall.

It lay outside the castle, where the mountain sloped toward the sea; at first Christopher thought part of the cliff had broken away, until the shape resolved into ribs, folded wings and a long neck half settled into the earth.

The dragon was enormous.

Its body stretched along the outer wall, dark scales still covering most of it, dulled by age but unbroken, hardened flesh remaining beneath them. Parts of one wing had decayed, exposing pale curved bones, while the other lay folded against the body like a collapsed roof.

Its head rested downslope, facing the sea.

One horn had broken close to the skull, empty eye sockets facing the gate, and deep wounds crossed its chest and neck—some burned into the scales, others cut through them.

Nobody spoke for a long time.

The old stories had become a body.

The dragon’s size made the castle architecture understandable: the high gates, wide roads and enormous terraces had not been displays of wealth but necessities for creatures that could not pass through human doors.

Long furrows marked the slope behind the corpse—it had landed hard, dragged itself toward the wall and gone no farther. The castle stones showed no matching damage; whatever wounded it had happened elsewhere.

One foreclaw rested less than a dozen paces from the masonry, each talon longer than Christopher’s arm; soil had gathered between them, and pale grass grew there despite the weight that pressed across the slope.

Walter stared at the folded wing. "How many men would it take to bring down something that size?"

Godfrey took a moment before answering. "More than we have."

Christopher studied the cuts across the neck, some wide enough for a man to place both hands inside them; he had seen the damage left by swords and axes during the journey north, but these wounds belonged to weapons—or powers—built for an entirely different kind of war.

Christopher opened Dragon Eyes.

Pain struck immediately.

The corpse filled his sight with dark red and gold; faded power had soaked into the soil and stone around it.

He closed his eyes and staggered.

Godfrey caught him. "What did you see?"

"It is dead. The power isn’t entirely gone."

"Can you judge its rank?" Godfrey asked.

"Higher than anything we know," he said.

Godfrey approached slowly, and at twenty paces from the head the pressure intensified; he stopped there, without being forced to his knees.

Walter followed several steps behind, his face paling though he remained standing; Owen and Mabel came around the wall together after adjusting to the sensation.

"This is why the beasts avoid the castle," Godfrey said.

Christopher looked toward the sky, where the wyrms remained beyond the ridge.

"Prestige," he said, though he did not know why the word felt correct.

They gave the corpse a wide path, since ordinary tools would not have cut the scales even if Christopher had wanted to try.

The keep doors inside the second courtyard were closed but unlocked.

Godfrey pushed one open.

The entrance hall remained dry, dust covering a floor made from fitted black stone; tall columns supported the ceiling, and worn carvings showed armored riders and dragons marching beneath the same banners.

The group inspected only the entrance level.

Godfrey established a retreat point beside the doors before they went farther, leaving two lanterns there with a coil of rope, spare water and one day’s food, while Walter scratched a mark into the dust at each corridor they passed. The precautions felt excessive until Christopher looked back and saw how quickly one black passage became indistinguishable from another.

The first side chamber contained racks of ordinary weapons: spears, swords and shields stood beneath protective cloth that had long ago turned to dust, and while many blades carried rust, others remained sound beneath a dark coating.

Walter lifted one sword, tested its balance and returned it.

"Better steel than ours," he said.

"How many weapons are stored here?" Christopher asked.

"Hundreds in this room alone," Walter said.

That number should have felt like an army, but Dragonwatch did not possess hundreds of trained fighters, and weapons could not stand on the walls by themselves.

Across the hall, another chamber held armor arranged on wooden frames; most had collapsed, leaving mail and plate in uneven piles, some pieces sized for ordinary Knights, others fitted with harness pieces Christopher did not recognize.

They left the space beneath them unexplored for now.

Godfrey marked both rooms for later inspection and inventory.

Farther inside, they found a dining hall, kitchens and storerooms; sealed jars contained only black residue or foul dust, sacks had collapsed into grey powder, and whatever food the Dragon Knights stored had expired centuries ago.

Mabel checked a medicine cabinet and rejected everything inside.

"You would discard even the sealed bottles?" Christopher asked.

"Especially the sealed bottles. We don’t know what they were before they changed."

The castle provided equipment, not meals.

The kitchens still contained massive ovens and rows of iron hooks. A separate preparation room had drains large enough to wash away blood from slaughtered animals. Feeding dragons and their riders must have required a constant supply of livestock.

The rooms showed the cost of supporting even one dragon: whatever livestock had once filled these preparation halls would have exceeded Dragonwatch’s present herds, and Christopher ordered nothing removed from the kitchens until Owen checked the drains and floors.

One storeroom contained bins of mineral powder rather than food; Mabel sealed samples from three, their labels unreadable, and none would be opened near flame.

An inner corridor led toward workshops, another descended beneath the keep, and a third climbed toward the command rooms. All remained dark.

They set all three aside for another day.

The expedition had travelled several days and carried limited supplies; entering every passage would turn caution into exhaustion.

They returned outside.

From beside the dead dragon, Christopher could see changes in the land around it: red-veined plants grew through the soil, blue-black stones protruded beneath one claw and between the ribs, and a faint spark passed across one exposed edge and vanished. Even the castle wall closest to the body had taken on the same faint metallic shade as its scales.

The dragon had altered the place simply by lying there.

"Could those crystals be useful?" Owen asked, pointing beside the corpse.

"Perhaps, but nobody touches them until we know what they are," Christopher said.

Godfrey looked back toward the weapon rooms. "And after we decide who learns this castle exists."

Five people now knew what waited beyond the gate, and Christopher needed each of them to examine it safely.

They camped in the outer entrance hall rather than beside the dragon: Walter and Godfrey checked the doors, Owen selected a room with one entrance and a sound ceiling, and Mabel kept all collected samples sealed away from their food.

Supper was dried meat softened in hot water and bread carried from Dragonwatch. They ate near the broken gate, where the last daylight reached them, and spoke quietly inside the empty halls.

Owen turned the rustless fitting over in his hands. "If the wagons used this metal, the workshops may still hold tools made from it."

"Tools we do not yet understand," Mabel said.

"A hammer is still a hammer."

"Until the hammer carries a formation and takes your hand off."

Owen wrapped the fitting and returned it to his pack.

Godfrey assigned watches in pairs; the silent castle kept everyone alert through the night.

Before nightfall, Christopher stood once more beside the eastern wall.

Below him, the dragon’s head faced the distant water. It had almost reached the castle.

Behind it waited the castle’s workshops, records and deeper halls, and somewhere within the small plane lay whatever the last command had called the final inheritance.

Christopher had found enough for one day.

Tomorrow, they would begin learning what could actually help Dragonwatch.