I sat cradling the Wyvern in my arms. The little thing had simply curled up and gone to sleep. I hadn’t the heart to move and disturb it, so I sat in this uncomfortable position as if I were in my lessons once more listening to a teaching monk who loved the sound of their own voice. Its chest softly rose and fell, for a brief moment, it went still, and I panicked, thinking some ill fate had fallen on them. Then it yawned, before covering its face with one of its leathery wings. The smell of rotten eggs hit me in the nostrils when it yawned, and I suppressed a gag. It had been maybe an hour or so since it had hatched, and Gertha and I merely watched the impossible creature in silence. To her credit, Gertha had managed to keep calm, despite her utter fear of the creature. I think the fact that I was holding it the whole time helped. She had set out to dig two holes in the ground with a dagger and spearbutt. I had no clue what she intended to do with the holes, but they were too small to be a grave, so I kept a relaxed attitude with things. After all, I was holding a creature that, firstly, you’d assume would try to kill you and everyone around you, and secondly, was completely mythical up until one hour ago.

  Everyone knows Dragons have four legs, two wings, fear fire and kill for the fun of it. They also love shiny things, the shinier the better. I shuddered to think of the stories of boats being turned to firewood because the lakes and seas glinted on a sunny day. Wyrms, on the other hand, are wingless but only ever have up to two legs, usually none, and I’ve heard stories of some with up to three heads; they didn’t care about fire but would still be burned by it. Drakes were tricky little bastards, they had at least four legs, were wingless and were as like to come at you running across the vertical side of a wall or upside down clinging to a ceiling as they were along the ground. I can’t tell you more about them, I’ve only seen run-of-the-mill ones from a distance. Ulther had fought one once as a boy, with a hundred other men, many of them died before it had been driven off. Ulther was prone to tall tales, though, no Drake is grabbing people with its tongue from twenty feet away.

  But this Wyvern, curled up in my arms like a house cat, had two legs, two wings and still radiated a warmth that I wasn’t used to any creature having, Godbody’s arse did it stink as well. It was a mystery nobody knew about and that we hadn’t solved yet. I stroked its coal black head as it slumbered, smiling to myself.

  I turned to Gertha, who was digging down at an angle from one of the holes in the direction of the other one. I had no idea what she was playing at; it looked like a lot of graft for no reward. She was gritting her teeth and shaking her head at times.

  “So uhh…what are you doing there, Fizzmouth?”

  “I’m digging a hole,” she said gruffly.

  “I can see that you're working up a sweat. Fire would keep us warm, and be easier than digging to make heat,” I said, smiling so that my voice would be more amiable and she’d calm down a bit.

  She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and sat down on the ground.

  “I’ve dug a Nomad’s fire pit,” she said, looking at the sweat on the back of her hand before wiping it on her robes.

  The Wyvern stirred, lifting its head slowly as it looked at Gertha, before stretching and resting its head on my shoulder. I could smell the eggy, hot breaths as they caressed the side of my face. It was oddly pleasant, although I’d never admit that out loud, I’d sound a bit weird.

  “What’s wrong with a normal fire?” I asked, feeling stupid because I knew there would be a good reason, but it just eluded my grasp.

  Bless Gertha in that moment, even tired and clearly uneasy with this situation, she gave me a kind smile and took a deep breath.

  “A Nomad’s fire pit stops the flames from being as visible. One hole brings air into the fire that we’ll build at the bottom of the second hole. We huddle as close as we can around it, and then whatever is out there won’t see us as easily.” I nodded as she explained it; it made total sense to me, and we had to balance the best tactical option with keeping warm or being able to cook.

  “Bloody good idea, Gertha, did a Nomad teach you that?” I leaned forward in my interest. Gertha had impressed me, and I was already in a good mood; not every day you hatch a creature of legend.

  She didn’t answer for a few moments before taking a deep breath, “Yes, a kind man, a strong man.” Her tone told me that he was also a dead man.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. No stranger to death and loss myself, but you already know that.

  “It was a long time ago, Tullen. Anyway, what are we going to do about the Wyvern?”

  I briefly considered our position. We were now on the run from Avandun, in the middle of the Free Forests, where all manner of creatures that would want to kill us lived. We also had to consider that we might run into the Free Nomads, and depending on which particular group came across us, we would either be forced into slavery, killed and eaten or simply left to go about our business. Having a bloody hatchling Wyvern with us would just make everything far more complicated and draw exactly the kind of attention we were trying to avoid.

  Every part of me that wasn’t daft told me that the best course of action was to either turn the bloody thing loose or wring its neck. The very thought felt like curdled milk in my belly, and I seized on those parts telling me those things and cast them away.

  “The Wyvern is mine; it stays with me,” I declared with a firm but fair voice, or my best approximation of one.

  Gertha raised an eyebrow at me, “It’s a bold choice, Tullen. That thing was in a Zellish convoy. Now what might they be doing with an impossible creature like this?”

  “I don’t know, but as far as they’re concerned, it’s gone and they have no way of knowing where.” I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder as the Wyvern dug a claw into my flesh, as it suddenly woke from its slumber, its little forked tongue tasting the air and flitting on my skin.

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  “I need you to understand that nothing like this has ever happened in any of the recorded histories I’ve studied. We have no clue what this creature is capable of. Not really.” She ran her hands through her short hair.

  “I think I was meant to have it, you know, because of the,” I pointed at the black tattoo on my face.

  “No, Fate can’t…it can’t be that on the nose, can it?” She threw her hands in the air and began pacing around the edge of the camp.

  “I dunno, maybe the Mummer is real after all and he’s chosen me to piss about with?”

  “He is real Tullen, don’t be ridiculous, but why would he bother with you?”

  “I am the last living swordmaster, you know?” I said, trying to cover my wounded pride. A silly reaction, really. Being the last living practitioner of an up until recent crime wasn’t exactly a marriage maker.

  “I don’t think Gods need swordfighters, Tullen.” She said, smirking.

  She wasn’t wrong; if they did, they wouldn’t forsake us every chance they got.

  “Maybe it’s all just chance.”

  “No, think about it, Tullen, a mythical creature that’s supposed to be the deadliest thing possible against humans? Suddenly hatching in the middle of the first war in centuries, and it just so happens to be hatched by the last swordmaster we know of? Fate is up to something, and I want to know what,” she started picking up sticks into a pile, depositing them into one of the holes before pacing in a circle around the Wyvern and me.

  The Wyvern reared its head, its beautiful eyes looking into mine. Something possessed me in that moment, and I gently pressed my forehead to its snout. I was rewarded by a crooning whine paired with a smell that usually accompanied the morning after too many ales and plates of sprouts.

  “We should press on and see what happens. If we’re careful, we’ll be alright.” I half believed my own words, part of me wanted to just go back to my old, admittedly shite life, but then again, maybe I had other options.

  Gertha popped a coin into her mouth before I heard the sound of metal against tooth. She sucked on the coin for a few seconds before gesturing vaguely in the direction of the firehole. There was a faint glow and a puff of smoke. I swore quietly under my breath. Magi were a weird lot. Gertha was alright, though. I liked her.

  “We need more information. If we could get our hands on some older texts, the lore might give us a clue.” She said, talking quietly while stroking her chin, before stabbing a finger in the air, “The Arcuzane, yes of course!” she cried.

  “The bloody Arcuzane? Aren’t they all gone now?” I asked, that band of so-called High Magi Superiori having simply stopped interacting with the civilised world about three years ago, leaving us all to wonder what had happened to the overbearing, sanctimonious robed gits.

  “Well, yes, but their towers are dotted about the Free Forests, and their Hold still stands on an island south of The Jut’s central eastern river. We’re bound to find something there.” She said, her voice sounded like mine, when I was asked if I wanted some more salted ham. The answer to that last question, by the way, is always yes, unless I have heartburn.

  I was about to answer, saying that sounded as fine a plan as any, when the Wyvern suddenly sprang from my lap, its legs digging into my lower stomach and pressing on my bladder.

  I gasped as the breath was driven from me, then immediately cried out when the bloody thing bolted straight into the now fully lit fire beneath the ground. I felt utter panic in that moment, and my heart hurt me in a way that hadn’t happened since I was a small child crying in a pool of my parents' blood.

  “Mummers balls!” I swore as I dived after the Wyvern, it was bloody quick, too quick even for my reflexes. I landed unceremoniously on my front, a clod of dirt hitting me just above my nose.

  “Where is it? Is it okay?” Gertha snapped.

  “It’s in the fire!” I grunted as I shoved my arm in after the creature. I managed to grab part of it when it swatted my hand. I panicked and pulled my hand free, checking for blood. Some cuts from Dragon claws could be venomous, my heart in my mouth, I checked my hand, but there was no mark at all.

  “Put the damned fire out, Gertha!” I hissed.

  She shook her head, “I can’t, that fire was my last for the day!”

  I felt tears brimming in my eyes, my chest hurting, and I tried to reach my hand in again, but felt nothing, no sign of the Wyvern at all.

  “A one-of-a-kind Wyvern, and we burned it to death within two hours.” Groaned Gertha.

  I pulled my arm back and, as I knelt upright, the Wyvern’s head poked out of the second hole. It looked at me with its face to one side, a still burning stick held in its mouth, a small flame flickering right at the end. Relief flooded into me as Gertha barked a laugh.

  “Looks like it's smoking hasteroot.” Gertha was full-on belly laughing now, a rare occurrence, let me tell you.

  “What are you doing in there? You scared the piss out of me!” I crawled over to it and ran my fingers across the scales of its frill. It chirruped and leaned into my petting. Gods, my heart burst at this point, and I smiled like a madman.

  The Wyvern breathed out in a large sigh, its eyes were wide like the time when we’d first looked into each other's. As that rancid breath caught the flickering embers on the stick, they burned brighter, and the flame at the end grew into a long tongue of fire before receding to normal. I was astonished, its breath made flames burn hotter. Had we mistaken a set of bellows for this creature?

  “Gertha…you saw that right?”

  “What a fascinating creature. Okay, Tullen, we can keep him. I need to know what this is all about.” Gertha seemed downright giddy now. Gone were all of her traces of apprehension. Trust a Magi to put personal feelings aside for curiosity.

  I stopped rubbing the Wyvern’s head, and it snorted before pushing its head further into my hand. I resumed the rubbing and it rewarded me with a chirrup.

  “I knew you were soft, Gertha,” I smiled.

  “You know, if you’re going to keep this creature, it’ll need a name.”

  I looked into its beautiful yellow eyes as it stared back into mine, before yawning that hot, rancid breath into my face yet again. I smiled, knowing just the name for them.

  “How about…Eggs?”