Chapter 36
The Grumpiest Dragon Slayer
Caspian was in a foul mood.
He'd been away from Frostholme for five days now. Five days of fighting Blightspawn, camping in the wilderness, and dealing with corrupted creatures that seemed determined to test his patience.
Five days away from Caroline.
From their chambers. Their bed. Waking up beside her warm body, feeling their child move beneath his hand during quiet morning moments.
Five days too long.
"Your Grace," Edwin called, riding up beside him. "Scouts report movement ahead. Large signatures."
"How large?" Caspian asked, his tone clipped.
"Very large, Your Grace. Dragon-sized."
Of course. Because corrupted wolves and bears weren't enough. Now the Blight had gotten to dragons.
Caspian's jaw tightened. "How many?"
"At least four confirmed. Possibly more."
"Wonderful," Caspian said flatly.
Edwin glanced at him sidelong. "You're in a particularly foul temper today."
"I want to go home," Caspian said bluntly. "I'm tired of sleeping on the ground. I'm tired of fighting monsters. I'm tired of being away from my wife."
"Understandable," Edwin said, fighting back a grin. "Though I've never heard you complain about monster-slaying before."
"I've never had a reason to be elsewhere before," Caspian pointed out.
They crested a ridge, and the corrupted dragons came into view.
Four of them—massive creatures that darkened the sky. Two were Earth dragons, bulky and powerful, easily sixty feet from snout to tail. The other two were Wind dragons, sleeker but longer—seventy feet or more with wingspans twice that length.
All four had the telltale signs of corruption—eyes glowing with unnatural light, movements jerky and aggressive, the miasma of the Blight hanging around them like a shroud.
"Saints preserve us," Lieutenant Marcus muttered. "Those are massive."
"I've fought bigger," Caspian said, dismounting smoothly. He drew Wintersbane and Frostreaver, the legendary blades singing as they left their sheaths.
"Sir," one of the younger soldiers said nervously. "Shouldn't we—"
"Stay back and guard the horses," Caspian ordered. "I'll handle this."
"By yourself?" the soldier asked.
"Yes."
Caspian walked toward the corrupted dragons with purposeful strides, his silver hair catching the wind, his expression cold and focused.
But internally, all he could think was: The faster I kill these, the faster I can go home.
The Earth dragons noticed him first. One of them—easily sixty feet long—reared up and roared, the sound echoing across the wasteland.
Caspian didn't even flinch.
His Matter Manipulation activated.
The ground beneath the dragon erupted, stone forming into dozens of sharp spears that launched upward with lethal speed. The dragon tried to dodge, but Caspian was already moving. Stone erupted beneath his feet, launching him upward—closing the distance with inhuman speed, both swords flashing.
Wintersbane caught the dragon across its throat. Frostreaver followed immediately, driving deep into the corrupted creature's chest.
The dragon fell with a thunderous crash, dead before it hit the ground.
The entire exchange took less than ten seconds.
The other three dragons froze, staring at their fallen companion.
Then at Caspian.
Then at each other.
Caspian pulled his swords free and turned to face them, his green eyes cold as ice. More stone weapons formed around him—floating spears, massive hammers, sharp-edged discs—all hovering in the air at his command.
"Well?" Caspian said quietly. "Who's next?"
The Wind dragons looked at each other.
Then, as one, they turned and fled.
Just... took off into the sky and disappeared over the horizon.
The remaining Earth dragon hesitated for only a moment before following suit, its massive body crashing through the underbrush as it ran.
Behind Caspian, his troops stood in stunned silence.
"Did... did they just run away?" Lieutenant Marcus asked.
"Aye," one of the veterans said. "Can't say I blame them. I'd flee too if I saw His Grace looking that murderous."
"The Duke dispatched that creature as if it were nothing," another soldier added. "Not even winded."
"He's in a terrible mood," Edwin observed, walking his horse forward. "Missing the Duchess will do that to a man."
Caspian was already cleaning his blades, his expression still thunderous. "Edwin."
"Your Grace?"
"Should we pursue the others?"
Edwin looked at the direction the dragons had fled, then back at Caspian's face. "Do you want to pursue them?"
"No," Caspian said bluntly. "I want to go home. If they're smart enough to run, they're smart enough to keep running."
"Agreed," Edwin said. "No point chasing dragons across the wasteland when they've already retreated."
Caspian sheathed his swords and turned to survey the area. "Search the vicinity. Make sure there are no other threats. Then we make camp and head back at first light."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The troops dispersed to search while Caspian walked toward where the dragon had fallen. His Matter Manipulation had done significant damage to the surrounding area—the ground was torn up, rocks and earth scattered everywhere.
But something else caught his attention.
A cave entrance, partially hidden behind fallen stones. And from within... a faint sound.
Caspian approached carefully, moving aside the debris with his powers.
Inside the cave was a nest.
Dragon eggs—or what remained of them. Most had been corrupted by the Blight, their shells black and cracked, clearly dead.
But in the corner, separate from the corrupted clutch, was a single egg that looked different.
Not a dragon egg.
It was smaller, about the size of a melon, with scales that shimmered frost-white and ice-blue. A Frost Serpent egg.
Caspian picked it up carefully. It was still warm. Still viable.
The serpent parents must have hidden it here, he thought. Probably killed by the corrupted dragons when they moved into the territory.
He tucked the egg carefully into his satchel, cushioning it with cloth.
Caroline would love this.
A sound from deeper in the cave made him pause.
Caspian moved forward cautiously and found another nest—this one clearly belonging to a griffin.
Two adult griffins lay dead nearby, their bodies torn and corrupted. They'd fought to defend their nest, but the Blight had taken them.
And in the nest, huddled and terrified, was a baby griffin.
It couldn't be more than a few weeks old. Its feathers were still downy, its lion's tail barely developed. It had the distinctive golden-brown plumage of its species, with a cream-colored chest.
When it saw Caspian, it shrieked—a tiny, fearful sound—and tried to make itself smaller.
"Easy," Caspian said quietly, crouching down. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The baby griffin trembled, its large eyes—golden, like an eagle's—fixed on him with terror.
Caspian slowly extended his hand. "Your parents fought bravely. But they're gone now. You're alone."
The griffin chick made a soft, mournful sound.
"But you don't have to stay alone," Caspian continued. "I know someone who would take very good care of you. Someone who has a habit of collecting orphaned creatures and giving them ridiculous names."
The baby griffin tilted its head, still scared but listening.
"She named a shadow wolf 'Shadow,'" Caspian said. "And a Dreamweaver 'Mochi.' Your name will probably be equally absurd. But you'll be loved. Protected. Safe."
He reached forward slowly and scooped up the baby griffin, cradling it carefully against his armored chest.
The chick struggled for a moment, then seemed to realize Caspian meant no harm. It settled against him with a tiny chirp, its body still trembling.
"There," Caspian said. "Caroline is going to absolutely melt when she sees you."
He carried the baby griffin out of the cave, one arm supporting its small body, the other hand resting on the satchel that held the Frost Serpent egg.
Two orphans. Both lost their parents to the corruption.
Both about to gain a very enthusiastic new mother who would probably spoil them mercilessly.
Edwin looked up as Caspian emerged from the cave, then his eyes widened at the baby griffin.
"Your Grace... is that—"
"A baby griffin," Caspian confirmed. "Found it orphaned in the cave. Also found a Frost Serpent egg."
"You're bringing them home for the Duchess," Edwin said, grinning now.
"Yes."
"She's going to love you even more."
"That's the plan," Caspian said, moving to his horse. He carefully arranged the baby griffin in a specially cushioned bag, making sure it could breathe and move but wouldn't fall out during the ride.
The troops had finished their sweep and were reporting back—no other threats in the immediate area. The corrupted dragons had fled far enough that pursuit would be pointless.
"Make camp," Caspian ordered. "We leave at first light."
"It's a two-day ride back to Frostholme," Edwin observed.
"Then the sooner we leave tomorrow, the sooner I'm home," Caspian said.
Camp was established efficiently—his troops had done this countless times. Fires were lit, rations distributed, watch rotations assigned.
Caspian sat by one of the fires, the baby griffin nestled against him. It had calmed down significantly, seeming to sense that it was safe now. Every so often, it would make soft chirping sounds, and Caspian would absently stroke its downy feathers.
"Never thought I'd see the day," one of the soldiers muttered to another. "The Butcher of the North cuddling a baby griffin."
"The Duchess has changed him," the other replied. "For the better, I'd say."
Edwin settled beside Caspian, accepting a cup of something hot from one of the cooks. "You're really eager to get back."
"Five days is too long," Caspian said.
"You've been gone for weeks at a time before."
"That was before," Caspian said simply.
"Before the Duchess."
"Before Caroline," Caspian corrected. "Before I had a reason to come home beyond duty."
Edwin smiled. "She'll be glad to see you. And these little ones."
Caspian looked down at the baby griffin, then at his satchel where the egg rested safely. "I hope the egg survives the journey. Frost Serpents are delicate at this stage."
"We'll be careful," Edwin assured him. "Besides, I'm sure the Duchess will know exactly what to do. She's proven quite adept at caring for unusual creatures."
"She has," Caspian agreed, a small smile crossing his face. "Shadow and Mochi are thriving under her care."
Edwin laughed. "The estate has become quite lively since her arrival. Never thought I'd see the day when a Dreamweaver would be napping in the Duke's study."
"Mochi does seem to think every comfortable surface belongs to him," Caspian said dryly.
"And Shadow's growing fast. Won't be long before he's the size of a horse."
"He's protective of Caroline," Caspian said. "I'm grateful for that when I'm away."
"As are we all," Edwin said. "The Duchess has brought... warmth to Frostholme. It's good to see."
"It's home now," Caspian said simply. "Not just a fortress. Home."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling, the baby griffin sleeping peacefully against Caspian's side.
"Two more days," Edwin said eventually.
"Two more days," Caspian agreed, his eyes on the horizon in the direction of Frostholme.
Two more days until he could hold Caroline again. See her smile. Feel their child move beneath his hand.
Two more days until he was home.
It couldn't come fast enough.