Risky Treasure

Claws scraped delicately over the ancient tiled room, careful not to disturb even the tiniest patch of dust. The tomb had lain undisturbed for possibly centuries, and even the slightest scratch could ruin the aesthetic and value of the hidden treasures kept safely within.

Korinn stalked carefully through the area, her wings folded tightly to her sides and her tail slightly raised in the air to avoid damaging the old room. Her head swung from side to side on a long, thick neck, greenish gray fur fading to tan. Her red tail didn’t even swish, not even the furred tip disturbing the priceless sanctity of this space. She was a careful explorer, and an even more careful treasure seeker.

The dragon wasn’t sure what she sought here, yet. She had only received reports of this hidden tomb a week ago, from other reptilian fliers who had been visiting the region themselves, and had poured over her notes for days before venturing out herself. Flying with eyes crossed from having your nose stuck in a book was surely an experience!

Information about this place had eluded her, though. All she knew was that it was in a remote location, supposedly filled with lost records or golden treasure, and might have belonged to a king that once ruled forever ago. That wasn’t much to go off of, though — indeed, the same could be said for many places she explored and carefully extracted artifacts from. But while the gold sounded interesting enough, she was hoping that priceless treasure of another kind would be found within the tomb: forgotten knowledge.

The crypt was dark, with not even a torf of flame able to light her way. She had to rely on her keen sight alone, and affinity for earthen tunnels. While the ceiling was sturdy and strong, fire might damage any wooden artifacts, or could blind her in such a tight space. Either one was dangerous and potentially tragic, and she didn’t want to take that risk one bit.

After what felt like hours — but was really only minutes for the anxious and excited dragon — she saw something gleaming in the gloom up ahead. Korinn didn’t dare pick up her pace, but instead stalked ever lower towards the object to show her eagerness. At last, at last, something worth taking home for her hoard?

Yes!

The object was a large vase, big enough even for a dragon to use. It was covered in tan and black carvings, depicting what could possibly be a mountain wyrm, huge spiked wings flared against a blood-red background. Oh, how delightful! Was this perhaps a deity, or maybe even just an ancient dragon? She couldn’t wait to haul this back and-

Wait.

Wait.

Wait!

There were hundreds of scrolls stuffed inside, which might have been a haphazard situation if not for the careful way in which the owner had placed them inside. They could only be pulled out carefully in order, letting the reader peruse them in their own time and keeping the rest of the information preserved. Each scroll was tightly wound but thick, each parchment promising potentially hours or days of research opportunities, plenty of information to learn and grow her knowledge!

Korinn contained her crow of delight, but she couldn’t resist wagging her tail slightly at her good fortune.

—

The young dragon grabbed the edge of the pottery carefully, beginning the process of removing it from its resting place and getting ready to fly it back to her own home. Now that she had this location marked on her map, she’d be able to return later and scan for even more written works that were preserved within the depths of this tomb. She felt giddy, elated. Not often did she get to take home such a serendipitous find, and never before so many scrolls in one place!

It was almost like it had been placed there specifically for her…

At that thought, she suddenly became aware of a difference in the air. It suddenly seemed heavier, making her sleepy, and her steps became more and more trodden. She felt like she was wading through water, though the only thing that surrounded her was the heavy, suffocating air.

A light suddenly lit behind her, and she nearly spun around — or would have, if she wasn’t moving so slowly. As it was, she caught sight of a huge relief on the wall as she turned. Flanked by heavy stone columns, a purple dragon-like figure with glowing, ruby-red eyes seemed to meet her own gaze. It was a malevolent figure, glaring down at her with menace. She thought she could hear it snarl.

She whipped her head out of its gaze at last, and felt the air returning to normal. She breathed a sigh of relief, but— what had caused the change in the atmosphere in the first place? What had happened to her, and made her notice the horrid artwork on the wall?

A hiss from her right side, and she whipped her gaze around in fright, mane standing on end. She crouched low over her vase, unfurling her substantial wings as much as she could in the cramped space, and she let out a hiss of her own. Her tail was still in front of her from her quick turn, wrapped around her body, and she quickly shifted her weight so she wouldn’t trip over it.

Mouth agape, she quickly scanned the area for the source of the initial hiss. And as she found it, she felt her heart drop.

A massive wyrm - no, wyvern - towered above her, wings pulled tightly to its sides. Dark purple scales, almost invisible in the darkness of the room, covered its neck and flanks, and the massive wings were covered in rips and scars.

The most striking feature, though, was the wyvern’s face — or at least what was left of it.

The bottom jaw and eyes seemed relatively in place, and the giant fins fanning back from the skull appeared to be average ornamentation, besides the odd rip here and there. But the top portion of this dragon’s face was covered by a hard metallic mask, which was what seemed to be enabling the light she saw moments ago — flames were spilling out of vents in the mask, creating a horrible and intimidating effect.

“Wyrm…” it muttered, and she realized the wyvern was an older male. Much older, in fact, than she.

“I have allowed you entrance into this tomb for this information only. I gathered it myself, organized it.” He spoke slowly and methodically, not taking his eyes off of Korinn. She wasn’t sure how he could speak with the flames broiling forth from his metallic maw, and she began to cough from the smoke being released.

“Step one claw in this tomb again… and it will become yours, as well.” He flourished his wings towards the relief, and Korinn noticed with shock that he was a splitting image of it.

“Gaze upon Koukarra, and know your luck in meeting him to tell the tale. Now leave, wyrm, take your wretched treasure with you…”

He blinked, and as Korinn saw the smoke clear, he had vanished back in the direction he had come. Only now did she notice her heart was pounding, and that her limbs were shaking.

Quickly, she gathered up the vase again, and practically sprinted out of the wyvern’s cave.

—

Safely back in her own domain, Korinn began the tedious but welcome work of analyzing the purloined scrolls. They were, as she suspected in the cave, bound tightly and contained much knowledge in each little parchment. The words ran thick on each page, sometimes even covering the margins, and were sometimes difficult to make out.

They all had a similar theme, at least from what she could make out so far.

The scrolls told of the dread wyvern that ruled over that land with an iron claw, until he was betrayed by one of his own and sent away with barely his life… and thought to be long dead.

Until now.

Korinn shuddered. Perhaps she would come back to these scrolls after catching up on a different lead, far, far away from the wyvern’s keep…