Nazmyr and Shelsa began their trek from the city into the swamp. The landscape slowly changed from majestic architecture, well-manicured foliage and clean waterways to dripping trees with black trunks, rotting vegetation, and scummy water. The pleasant scent of baked goods and the floral aroma from the distillery morphed into the stink of decay and methane.

The afternoon sun above them blazed like a fiery wheel in the sky. Lances of its molten-gold beams pierced the gaps in the swamp’s canopy. In places, the dead leaves seemed to be a-fire with an inner glow. All manner of insects and reptiles chirped and croaked. It seemed as if they too were protesting the heat. Nazmyr would have preferred to leave under the cover of nightfall; however the message he received was specific.

He traveled amongst the dryer hammocks, doing everything in his power to avoid the chafe of wet clothing and water seeping into his boots. Regardless of his efforts, his clothes became sticky from the hot moist air and the taste of dirt and mud mixed with sweat ran into his mouth.

It wasn’t before long that a small clearing came into view. Nazmyr’s fingers arched and twisted in arcane movements as he projected an exact duplicate of himself into the clearing.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Shelsa asked as she and Nazmyr peered at the open hammock from the cover of thick foliage.

“Meeting an ancient black dragon by ourselves in her own territory? Probably not.”

“Then why in the hells are we here?!”

“Fortune favors the bold.” Nazmyr said evenly. “It presents itself in many different ways. I would be remiss not to take advantage of this opportunity.”

“What more fortune do you need? You have me. Not to mention two homes, thriving businesses, and Dahlia. Aren’t you fortunate enough?!”

Nazmyr shifted his gaze to Shelsa “Aren’t you the one who said that she wanted to travel; see the world?”

“Yes but not while inside the belly of a dragon.”

“You didn’t need to come you know. You could have stayed home.”

“And miss the chance to meet an ancient black dragon?! I think not. Besides someone has to tell your brothers when you have been reduced to a puddle of goo.”

“I’ll be a puddle of goo huh? But not you?”

“Nope. I’ll live. You…50/50.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome.” Shelsa said haughtily. 

There was only a very brief moment of silence before Shelsa spoke again.

“I think you’ve damaged the local kobold population in your quest to ingratiate yourself with this Eomyrosis. How many did you capture to use as messengers?”

“Quite a few.” Nazmyr said as he smiled to himself.

“How many?” Shelsa demanded.

“A few dozen.”

“And how many lizard folk?”

“A few dozen.”

“All that wasted time traipsing through the swamp dealing with filthy vermin, and she never answered you. So how do you know this is the right spot?”

“She did answer me.” Nazmyr said defensively.  “Just not personally. The last messenger I sent was a lizardman; a big ugly black one. I guess she like that one because he came back intact with a note.”

“And how do you know it was she who answered you? What if this is a trap?”

“It’s not a trap. My note was written in a very unique language. She’ll show up.”

“A unique language you say? Hmm…and where did you learn this unique language?” Shelsa teased.

Nazmyr rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

“Come to think of it…I never checked your grammar. Maybe she mistook your note for a dinner invitation and she means to eat you.”

“Shhhh! I hear something.”

Nazmyr and Shelsa focused on a clearing on the hammock as they listened to brush being pushed aside. A short time later, a comely human-looking woman wearing long dark robes emerged from the overgrowth.

“That’s not a dragon.” Criticized Shelsa.

“No, it’s not.” Nazmyr said with a mixture of annoyance and displeasure.”

“See! I told you! She’s not coming! It’s a trap!”

“Only one way to find out.”

“What’s that?”

“Spring the trap.”

Now was Shelsa’s turn to roll her eyes and sigh in exasperation.

Nazmyr’s projected image approached the woman.

“I was expecting Eomyrosis.” Said the illusionary Nazmyr.

“You have her interest.” The woman responded dryly.

“My words are for Eomyrosis only.”

“Amin naa Eomyrosis lle tirec!” (I AM Eomyrosis you simpleton) the woman spat.

“Oh.” Nazmyr said with new found clarity. “Well met Eom…”

“Dispense with the pleasantries!”  She said with annoyance as she cut off the illusionary Nazmyr in mid-sentence.

“As you wish.” The illusionary Nazmyr said as he bowed.

“Illusions?” The woman said with disgust. “Do you think you can hide from me?”

“Oh no. I am not hiding. Though I would prefer not wind up pickled. Your reputation precedes you.”

Eomyrosis smirked in satisfaction. “Who sent you?”

“I come of my own accord.”

“You are either very brave or very foolish.”

“Some would say those traits go hand in hand.” Nazmyr said somewhat flirtatiously.

“Don’t be pert with me boy!”

Shelsa shot Nazmyr a look. “Really?!” she said incredulously.

Ignoring Shelsa, Nazmyr continued “Then I shall speak plainly.” He said quickly changing his tactics. “I have a proposal that is to our mutual benefit.”

“Who are you to assume that you know what would benefit me?” she said with obvious disdain.

“I am familiar with your tale. I know you were exiled. What if I were able to arrange for you to return home?”

Eomyrosis’ human form arched her back as enormous black leathery wings burst through her clothing. The feminine scream of anger that escaped her lips quickly grew into an earth shaking roar. Her silvery blue eyes, filled with rage, looked beyond Nazmyr’s illusion and into his soul.

Nazmyr felt a cold wave embalm him as the hairs rose on the back of his neck and his mouth ran dry. The sudden shock made him tense his muscles. Shelsa’s fur puffed out as she arched her back. Fear became a tangible, a living force that crept over them like some hungry beast holding them captive.

“You dare think to play coy with me!” The ancient dragon bellowed in an unnatural sounding voice.

Nazmyr stood for a couple seconds, his stomach churning. He closed his eyes and steadied his breath and tried to calm the panic. Part of him wanted to run, yet he knew that he had come to far too flee just yet. Maintaining his focus, he continued parlaying with the dragon through his illusion.

“This is no ruse. I could speak to the Highlord on your behalf. I have the means to gain an audience with him through the Gold Princess Jenna Dayspring.”

She glared at Nazmyr as acid dripped from her muzzle “Liar! How could  someone as insignificant as you know Jenna?!”

“The princess and I have a mutual acquaintance. A djinn from the court of King David.”

“And who is this acquaintance you claim to have?!”

“Her name is Dahlia. She is sister to Fatoush Hakbarah.”

“I know this name. Phantom indeed…” She said in disgust. “What do you know of the Highlord?!”

“Very little. Only that he is consort to the Queen of Dragons and that it is because of him that you are here now.”

Her rage subsided. “You have piqued my interest dark elf. Before I bargain any further you will have to prove your worth to me.”

“What would you have me do?”

She smiled a toothy grin. “Navigate my lair. Seek me out. Once you have found me, only then will I determine if you are worthy of anymore of my time.”