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Bativa burst out laughing as they descended the spiral staircase, and tears of mirth rolled down his cheeks. “Damion, my friend, that was priceless! The Council didn't know what hit them! I've never seen them intimidated by anything! But you shut them up with just a look!” He chuckled again, then wiped the tears from his eyes. “You certainly deflated that old windbag, Krel. I thought you were going to turn him into a toad for sure! Serves him right, though. He has always thought a little too much of himself.” He gave Damion a curious look. “Can you do that? Turn someone into a toad, I mean?"
Damion thought about it for a moment. “I probably could if I really wanted to.”
Bativa laughed. “Excellent! Keep that in mind if Krel raises anymore objections! He’s the definition of a conservative, and is always the one in the Council that raises the loudest objections.”
“I doubt he’ll have anything to say after Damion’s little demonstration.” Dar chuckled in amusement.
“I got sick of his attitude.” Damion said defensively. “I figured he needed a nudge to help him understand the situation.”
Bativa laughed a deep booming laugh. “Remind me never to irritate you, my friend.”
Later that night, Sly, Bativa, and Damion remained in the common room while the others retired for the evening.
“You lost your temper pretty quickly today, Damion.” Sly commented as he motioned to the serving girl for another round of drinks. “It’s not like you to lose your cool like that.”
Damion grunted, but said nothing.
Bativa chuckled. “Don’t feel bad, my friend. I can’t stand dealing with those tiresome old windbags either, but unfortunately, it’s considered the worst form of manners for one councilman to attack another. Otherwise, I would have disposed of that jackass, Krel, years ago.”
“Just try to keep your temper in check tomorrow.” Sly warned. “We don’t need a clan of tribesmen chasing us all the way to the Endless Forest.”
“There’s no chance of that happening.” The clan-chief assured them knowingly. “They are more terrified of Damion than they are the dragon! Besides, we need every available warrior to help protect the herds from roving bands of goblins and dragonspawn. Hundreds of the vile creatures have been streaming down from the mountains, slaughtering everything in their path. My brothers will not risk sending any warriors after you.” He grinned broadly. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that they will be quite eager to see you go.”
Bativa’s prediction proved to be right on the mark. When they arrived in the domed cathedral the following morning, it was obvious that the councilmen were all quite eager to see the companions leave immediately. They all sat with sickly expressions on their faces, and their eyes continually flicked over towards Damion, clearly fearing another demonstration of his power.
Councilman Krel wore a haughty expression as he stared at the companions, though there was fear in his eyes, and he jumped nervously every time Damion moved.
After a few meaningless questions from Councilman Wathre and Councilman Tonke, Councilman Krel sat forward, his face assuming a fussy, business-like expression. “After further consideration by the Council, we have decided to allow you to continue your quest. You are hereby ordered to locate the Dragon Sword, then continue to the dragon’s lair and put a stop to these attacks at any cost. Stop this madman that controls the beast, and bring him to justice so he may pay for the atrocities that he has committed. This is the order of the Council.”
Damion clearly heard Dar’s groan, and Sly quickly sidled over to Damion’s side and took a firm grip on his arm. “Just let it go.” The little man murmured, a note of desperation in his voice.
Damion settled for staring menacingly at the Councilman Krel, who quickly sat back in his chair, his eyes wide with terror.
Bativa, noticing Damion’s homicidal expression, quickly called the meeting to an end, citing the urgency for the companions to continue their journey.
Damion was fuming as he made his way down the long winding staircase that led to the lower levels of the fortress. The others had to jog to keep up with him as he led the way down, cursing viciously with every step. It had taken every bit of self-control that he possessed not to split Councilman Krel up the middle.
“That idiot Krel just doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, does he?” Bativa said, shaking his head in exasperation. “The man must have a death wish.”
Damion grunted, but didn’t trust himself to reply.
Bativa accompanied the companions as they slowly made their way back towards the stables where they had left their mounts. When they finally arrived, they found one of the stable hands lying unconscious in the street surrounded by a growing crowd of curious onlookers. There was a huge gaping hole in the center of one of the wooden stable doors, and Storm, looking quite agitated, stood in the void staring down at the unconscious man contemptuously.
Damion whistled shrilly, and the huge warhorse nickered and trotted through the ruined stable door to his side, deliberately stepping on the unconscious man's chest as he passed.
Bativa laughed his great booming laugh once more. “I see Storm is still acting like his old self. It seems that you two were meant for one another. You both seem to have the same temperament!”
Damion smiled, gently stroking the stallion's long flowing mane, then turned and grasped the Deolan warrior's forearm in farewell. “Be well, my friend. When this is all over, I'll be sure to find you and let you and your people know that we have been victorious.”
They watched as the tribesman disappeared into the crowd, then gathered the other horses and set off through the streets of the enormous fortress.
“This place is just too big.” Kariah complained hours later as they continued to press on through the packed streets of the city. “How much farther is it until we reach the arena?”
“About a mile, I’d guess.” Sly answered, reining in his horse to avoid trampling a mob of dwarves who staggered into his path. “The smell is getting stronger, so I’d say we’re pretty close.” He glanced at Damion. “Are we going to push on until we reach the gate, or are we going to find another inn for the night?”
Damion thought about it for a moment. “Let’s find an inn. It’s going to be a long time before we get another chance to sleep in a real bed, so we may as well enjoy it while we can.”
They quickly found an inn, and checked their mounts into the adjoining stables. This inn was noticeably shabbier than the other establishments that they had stayed during their visit to the fortress city, but the companions weren’t really concerned about the inn’s appearance as long as it had soft clean beds in which to sleep.
The innkeeper, a short chubby tribesman with a pock mark scarred face and greasy hair, quickly approached as they entered, his face sneering as he stared at Damion. “I’m sorry, but you cannot come in here.” The man had an arrogant voice, and he looked up at Damion with a distasteful expression on his tattooed face.
Sly stepped forward, his eyes glittering dangerously. “And why, exactly, is that?” He looked around the empty common room. “It’s not as if you were completely jam packed with business, now is it?”
The innkeeper sneered at Damion, then turned to look at Sly. “Be that as it may, I still cannot allow you to enter. All of my rooms here have already been taken.” It was obvious that the man was lying.
Sly shook his head in resignation. “You’re treading on thin ice, friend.” He emphasized the word ‘friend’. “We have had a tiring day, and my friend here is very short on patience.” He gestured to Damion, who growled menacingly. “If I were you, I would reconsider finding us a room for the evening, before my friend decides to squish your head like a tomato.”
The innkeeper stumbled back several feet. “Y-you can’t threaten me like that!” He stammered fearfully.
Sly laughed humorlessly. “That wasn’t a threat, friend.”
The pudgy little man stared at Damion for a moment, then loo
ked back to Sly. “Follow me.” He grumbled in resignation. “I’ll show you to your rooms.”
“I love doing that.” Sly murmured to Damion as they followed the innkeeper.
“I noticed.” Damion replied. He had been rather taken aback by the man’s reaction, and was having a hard time getting over the look of disgust that the innkeeper gave him upon entering. He had been warned many times growing up to expect such reactions from some people, but it still bothered him as he watched the looks of fear and revulsion cross people’s faces when they first saw him. He decided to forgo dinner, and climbed into one of the beds that lined the walls of their room, where he laid awake for several hours before finally drifting off into a fitful sleep.
They emerged from the city through the southern gate two days later, and continued along the trade road, pushing their horses at a steady league-consuming canter. As night fell, they pulled off the road, and set up camp near a large grove of trees. After a short discussion, they decided not to chance a fire, not wanting to draw any attention to themselves.
“You seemed a little bothered by those Deolan councilmen.” Sly commented to Damion later that night while they watched the others as they slept. The little man was relaxing comfortably against the trunk of a large elm, chewing on a piece of salted beef. “You lost your temper pretty quickly. That's not like you. Is everything okay?”
Damion was silent for several moments, then said. “I really didn't like the way they were looking at me. It made me very angry.” He sighed heavily. “I have always known that I'm different from everyone else, but I'm getting rather sick of being looked at like I'm some kind of horrible creature everywhere I go.”
“That’s the way the world is, I'm afraid.” Sly murmured, understanding Damion's frustration. “People are always going to judge you by your appearance. But those who have come to know you know that you are a good and honest young man. Just look at Kariah.” He gestured to the elf maiden, who had curled up next to Damion and fallen asleep. “She has definitely taken a shine to you.” He grinned at him devilishly. “I'd be careful if I were you. I think she has bigger plans for the two of you.”
Damion knew his face had turned a bright red, and he was thankful that it was dark.
“And our new friend Bativa,” The little man continued, tearing another bite from his salted beef, then taking a long drink from his wineskin. “He was very impressed by your prowess in battle, and by your magic. Those who come to know you and care for you will see through your outer appearance to the real you. Those are the only people who really matter.”
Damion sat back in his bedroll, carefully considering his friend’s wise words. Eventually, he fell into a deep sleep.