The man who fights too long against Dragons becomes a Dragon himself.

It was near; he could feel it in his blood… The beast was near, all evidence was pointing to this point… The cold Scottish wind blew against his tough skin, his flaming long red hair floating with the snowflakes… His bright yellow eyes observed the ground, the tracks were a day old, but no matter he knew he was going the right way. Lachlan MacSynders was hunting his prey… Cross bow on his back his quiver full of narcotic and poisonous bolts hand crafted by him. The grown lad was wearing many furs, a green and brown kilt, tough leather dragon boots… The jewelry he wore also from the same creature, dragon teeth for a necklace and a fang for the earring… He bore war paint on his face, his sword out and ready to slash anything that got in his way. But this wasn’t just any ordinary sword, inside the hilt of the sword was a wand, forged into the blade… It was a long claymore not a fancy one at that, it only bore the MacSynders family crest, nothing else was needed! He was fighting dragons, not being a knight.


These were not times of comfort you and I know dear reader, this was a Scottish winter a long time ago in the middle ages when Muggles knew the existence of all sorts of creatures they now call mythical or fairy tales… When Dragons roamed the skies as their kingdoms, the villages were their prey… They call them legend now, perhaps was it to forget the terrifying damage they had caused. Muggles couldn’t bear to think of such a predator, also, the ministry’s obliviators did their job extremely well as the years passed. But there didn’t used to be a ministry of magic, the laws of magic used to run wild and free… In such a time is when the MacSynders family history was written, such a time when Lachlan was known to be the best dragon hunter the wizarding world had so far known.


His steps were agile, barely making a noise in the snow and as he looked over down the hill, he saw it… Arach. As he called it, it was the only beast so far that had always gotten away all these years! The one who had made him what he had become; a hunter, a broken man existing only to kill. The dragon had been forced out of its usual winter hibernation; it was now feasting on some cow carcasses… It was a very large lizard like beast with tears in its wings from all the years of confrontation. Its claws were bigger than a house, its mighty head twice the size! Its scales were brown with golden reflections, its eyes were slit like and bore the color of orange fire…

The giant beast knew its enemy was here, in fact, it had placed itself downhill to provoke the Scotsman. The old dragon had become tired of his enemy, the pesky wizard had not stopped hunting him or letting him hibernate for years… MacSynders always seemed to find him and send smelling smoke into his den, keeping him away and awake every winter. The massive creature had a screaming bovine in its claws, its sounds of agony echoed in the hills. Arach punchered it many times with its claws sadistically, watching it suffer and bleed, before sinking his long fangs into its flesh. Blood and chunks of the corpse splattered to the ground. It was a disgusting sight, to watch a dragon slowly kill its prey, luckily today Arach was very hungry and did not make the killings last too long…

Its then that a blot shot straight on the dragon, bouncing off its tough steel like scales. It turned violently to look at its adversary, its orange eyes expressed furry and anger. It then roared in MacSynders direction, pieces of skin and meat flying in his direction, he could see all its sharp teeth its tongue and near the back of its throat, a ball of fire developing. Lachlan took out it his sword and disappeared with a loud pop! away from the dragons targeting spot just in time! Rock and snow flew in every direction as the fireball exploded against the hill. MacSynders put both hands on his sword and slashed the air violently towards the beast’s direction! The dragon shrieked in pain black blood gushing out of its left front leg. The sword burst into flames and he swished and flicked it towards Dragon giving it a taste of its own medicine. The dragon parted it wings making the snow fly around it like a blizzard; MacSynders raised his arms in front of him to protect his face. The dragon roared in furry and hastily flew away high into the grey clouds, the power of its wings making the wizard fall to the ground.

The man stared at the clouds, the grip around his sword tightening, and his breath rapid creating mist in front of him with each breath. And just as he had expected, the dragon breathed down fire at him from up above, the fireball zooming down towards him like hells furry. MacSynders barely had the time to apparated before it touched the ground, the force moved him though the air hitting the ground hardly debris falling on and all around him… The furs and even his hair, in flames he rolled around in the snow cursing. He got to his feet again, but there was no second attack… Arach had fled once again… The warrior had burns on his blood, cuts and blood all over him, the tip of his claymore in the snow as he looking down upon the slaughtering, there were half carcasses of the cows and the snow was deep red…

“I will kill you Arach…”

***

In the depth of night, deep in the mountains of Black Cuillin, on the highest peak a small glow could be seen from the heavens above. Silently the beast Arach flew in the clouds of the mysterious Skye Isle. It flew ahead of its foe, seeking to rid of him once and for all, and perhaps (if Arach was lucky) feast on cattle. Its giant wings pushed the air besides it to soar in the skies with one strong dash.

MacSynders looked up to the sky his claymore out and ready, nothing… Scotland’s mists were upon him and the clouds shielded the sky. Pressing on through the snowy mountains onward to his domain, (domain that Arach had failed yet to find) his thoughts remained on his wife. Finally the entrance he was looking for was found. He had reached it! The strong warlock stood before a cave mouth, the cave itself seemed too small for such a large man, but as he stepped inside blue flames awoke from their ashes… And a winding path was revealed, the drip drops of the cave echoed against the ice walls… The bluebell flames died out once he stepped in front of the fire bowls, the trail was long and the tunnel was small any man would feel death over his head in such a tight space.

The bluebell flames were no more, Lachlan grabbed the hilt of his claymore and pressed a gem the hilt clicked, “Lumos!” croaked a deep voice, and the tip of his wand shinned a white light that he threw down the tunnel. As the ball of light danced its way deeper into the mountain, the shadows played with his deep facial scars. His thoughts were once again to his beloved Arlene, he already could imagine her golden fair hair, those deep emerald eyes and her little fists hitting him for being away so long. He exhaled a chuckle as he pressed on deeper, the ball of light had disappeared yet there was a dim light ahead he had reached the end of the tunnel.

Rushing of water could be heard afar, and as he approached the louder and louder the waterfall could be heard. The warlock stood at the end of the tunnel and gazed down to look upon the MacSynders forte. Surrounded by the strong mountain walls that opened to the skies of Scotland, was the family castle. But how could the dragon possibly not know of a hole in the mountain? An illusion. The hole could only be seen for certain people, others such as non magic folk or intruders would only see rock. The forte itself was surrounded by an underground river; those mad enough to attack it by foot would perish easily. It was a fortress! But from above it was vulnerable to flying creatures if not for the charm and other protective spells.

Lachlan came from one of the secret tunnels, but there were two main tunnels that led easily to the exterior world, big enough to fit horses and carriages, or even a dragon corpse…. The North tunnel was made for MacSynders victims, indeed, when lucky enough, the dragon’s corpse would be brought back to the forte for tests and other experiments. It was not a secret, in fact many feared the Master of the forte even more. Rumors declared he once kept a live dragon to test poisons and other violent spells on it! Others say he uses the scales as plates, the teeth as necklaces and other barbaric things! But it was those barbaric things that earned the MacSynders their fortune. Dragon blood was sold fifteen galleons the litre! Dragon scales were sold ten galleons for five grams! These ingredients had become scarce and were worth a lot of gold.

There were those who were against the idea of killing dragons, in fact some of them wanted to breed them! Try to use them for their own purposes. An Irish family was one of them; Maoilfhinn believed that breeding the beasts in captivity would assure control without the dragon linage going instinct. More than one member of this Family died serving this cause, which to MacSynders, served them right! You cannot tame such a beast they will in the end turn against you, reptiles that size should not be allowed to roam with humans… They were too dangerous in his opinion to be bred.

The flaming haired man walked down the long steep stairs carefully, his wand lighting the way down. His blue tired eyes looked to his beloved’s tower, she would keep a bluebell flame at the window when he was absent. Flicking his wand to the blue light from afar, it faded away and as soon as it did a silhouette made its way to the window. He smiled shaking his head, already imagining her furry, thankfully while out he had brought her back a little something…

After a long walk up the steep hill that brought him to the castle he awaited the drawbridge opening. Dragon statues on each side of the drawbridge, with threatening expressions almost looked alive, perhaps they once were? As the drawbridge hit the earth making a very loud noise and a lot of dust, the small pitter patter of feet against wood was heard. Two small but very strong arms hugged his neck tightly and then as he expected followed with a slap in the face!

“A week! A bleeding week, Lachlan!” screamed her wonderful voice, he beamed down at her as she continued to rant on.
“Lass it was a long journey.” He said placing his hands on her shoulders cutting her off. “’N I brought ya someth’n.”
“-was worried sick!”
“Keep the heid lass.” He said softly to her holding her tightly. Her large round stomach against him, he beamed down at the bearer of his child. “Hows tha lad?”
“The baby is fine. But you do not know if it is a boy.” She said, her mind now off the subject, calming down.
“Has ta be a lad! MacSynders only make sons!” He said proudly as he put his wand back in place, click! “Now, am pure done in lass… Lets go ta bed.”

***