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There were too many of them. Tired, worn out, and hungry. The relief on their faces as they slowly trickled through the large iron-enforced wooden gates could be seen even from the wall. Exhausted children were dragging their feet behind their stumbling parents. The elderly were being pulled drearily along by wooden carts, eyes dull and lifeless except for the reflection of the many flaming torches that lit their way. Clothes were ripped and ragged. Many were barefoot. In the middle of the line were people carrying stretches, bodies laying upon them wrapped in bandages. It was difficult to tell who was dead and who was alive.

"Do you really think we can house them all?"

The question snapped Syras out of his trance as he turned to face the woman at his side.

"No," he responded with a sigh, "But we don't really have a choice."

She nodded in response, "I'm going to the gate. See if I get can get an explanation."

She turned and marched away, her iron imbued light armour clinking as she walked. Syras watched her go, before turning his gaze back toward the crowd. It made no sense. What would make dragons let go of so many of their slaves? Maybe they had escaped, but even if they did it was such a large group of people that the dragons would have tried to get them back.

He looked to the exit of their cavern, to the blue sky barely visible outside. The roof of the cavern reached high above them. Hundreds of stalactites hung as large ominous spikes, with the occasional one stretching far enough down to reach the ground, creating massive columns that held to roof up. The wall he was currently standing on was made of thick stone slabs, reaching from the ground to the roof. Running along the middle of the wall was a gap with ramparts, large enough for several people to walk abreast, but small enough that only the smallest of dragons would be able to fit through. The wall had protected the hidden city on the other side for millennia, but even Syras knew that should the dragons wish to, they could break through the wall without a second thought. The thousands, possibly millions, of people trickling into the city would only make them a greater target for the creatures out there, to the point where he wondered if he shouldn't turn them away.

"Syras sir!" the summons of one of his soldiers got his notice, "Sir Meriam has asked that you come down to the gate."

He nodded his head, supposing he should get down there to see what had led so many people to his city. He turned away from the ramparts and followed the soldier through a wooden door. The echoes of footsteps as the two descended down a long stone staircase echoed as though there were hundreds of them. He could see the young man leading him constantly glancing back as if slightly concerned of the subtle frown embedded on Syras's face.

They reached the end, and the wooden door was opened, allowing the two through. Ahead of him was a large open space, stretching several hundred metres, before the first few buildings of the city began to appear. Flickering firelight shone like stars amongst the darkness as the new arrivals were led to gather near the natural southern wall. Despite the murmuring and rustling of feet, the place was eerily silent. People were sitting with their backs leaning against rocks, just staring absently at nothing. A woman had just collapsed to the ground and promptly fallen asleep with her head resting against a rock.

Syras walked down the path to the gate. He spotted Meriam talking to one of the new refugees, or at least that's what he first assumed. As he got closer he quickly recognised the man. The silver spear on his back along with the gleaming shield adorned by a white stone was impossible to forget. Syras felt anger bubble in his chest, though he wasn't surprised. There was only one man that could have pulled this all off.

Meriam spotted his approach, and pointed to the man beside her, speaking stoically, "Look who it is."

"Dragonslayer," greeted Syras with as devoid a note as he could manage, "Why am I not surprised."

"Syras," the Dragonslayer nodded his head in greeting, "How are you? It has been a couple of years has it not?"

He was a robust man, not overly tall or physically impressive. But there was a hardness about him, one that always brought a shiver to Syras's neck. No one knew the Dragonslayer's name, nor where he came from. The only constant was that he was one of the few people that would without fear fight a dragon. And he did so constantly. Syras was unsure of how many of the creatures had fallen to the Dragonslayer's blade, but he felt that hundreds would be a reasonable guess. Whenever refugees made their way into the city, they came with stories of the Dragonslayer. A legend of untold potential.

"Something like that," grunted Syras in response, tightening his hands into fists.

"I see you haven't changed," sighed the Slayer as he looked at the continued trickle of people.

Syras grunted, "Not one bit. Why did you think bringing all these people here would be a good idea? Do you not see the potential danger this could cause us?"

The Dragonslayer studied Syras impassively, "Of course I do. But leaving them to the wilderness was not an option."

"Then why rescue them at all?" the city leader replied venomously

"You speak as though leaving them with the dragons was an option as well," responded the Dragonslayer, "You know how the oceanic dragons treat the people under them."

"Exactly! And by leading them here you have doomed us all!"

Meriam placed a hand on his shoulder, and he felt himself calm somewhat, before she spoke, "You must understand our worry Slayer. This exodus will surely lead the dragons to Refuge. We would not survive an onslaught against them."

"I am well aware of your worry. But it is unwarranted. The captors of these people are far too busy elsewhere to worry about their missing slaves," The Dragonslayer surprised.

She frowned, "What do you mean?"

"For a people that pride themselves on their knowledge of dragons, you have not been paying attention these past couple of years have you?"

"Why? What's happened?"

"The war has begun."

"A war?" Syras frowned, thinking through the reports of the dragons he had received the past several months. There had been an increase in movement in the south as thousands of the beasts made their way to the borders of their kingdom.

"The war," repeated the Dragonslayer, "And this is the only place I can think of that would be safe."

"And what makes this 'The War'," grunted Syras, "Dragons have had wars before. What, four centuries ago there was that big one. The Ashen wars they call it. What's so different this time?"

The Dragonslayer chuckled, "In the Ashen wars half the continent burned. Millions upon millions were killed, both dragon and human. The very climate of the planet was shifted for years. It was a miracle the world survived. But here... well... the most powerful dragons of today wield far greater power than the dragons back then."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Let's just call it a hunch and leave it at that."

"Even if what you say is true, Dragonslayer," Meriam spoke, "How on earth are we supposed to cater for this amount of people? It doesn't matter if this is the only 'safe place' if everyone starves to death."

"I'm sure you will find a way. This place was built to withstand millions of people."

Syras sighed, looking back at the beginning of the city. They had dug so far into the earth that you couldn't see from one side to the other. Their buildings were mostly made from stone and mud. There were a few gaps within where holes had been dug to the surface, allowing natural light to pour through, and one large open crater where part of the city broke out within the mountains. Space wasn't the issue. The issue was the number of resources they had. There simply wasn't enough to feed almost double the people they already had. At least not without great discomfort to everyone. But if what the Dragonslayer said was true, they might have to find a way.

"I also plan on bringing as many people as I can from the other dragon cities," the Dragonslayer said, "So you better find a way."

"What!?" exclaimed Syras, "Do you plan on sending the entire human population our way or something?"

"If I can."

"That's impossible Slayer, surely even you know that," Meriam replied, "Even if we can find a way to support all the extra people that came with you today, supporting the human race would be impossible. We would have better luck trying to survive out in the open with this war."

"You say that," said the Dragonslayer, "But trust me when I say that if any of us are left in the open when things come to a head our chances of survival will be slim indeed."

"You sound like one of those doom-mongers. 'Oh, the world is ending soon! Prepare yourselves!'" Syras grunted, "We will house these people Dragonslayer, at least until this war is over. But we will be turning away any group this large again."

"Syras..." Meriam narrowed her eyes, disagreeing with him.

"You know what I speak to be the truth Meriam. We simply can't hold more than we have. Better we look after those already here then kill everyone by bringing even more people in."

The Dragonslayer studied him for several moments as if calculating the reality of what he was saying for the first time. This was why Syras disliked the slayer. He always questioned everything, no matter how true the statement or how scarce the other options. The worst part about it all is that he was a figure worthy of the people's attention. They listened to him. They adored him. He was a hero to so many. So when he questioned those in authority it inspired others to do so as well, making Syras's job much more difficult.

"What resources would you need to house several million more people in here?" the Dragonslayer asked suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. What sort of resources do you need in order to comfortably house... let's say triple what you currently have now, triple including the people I just brought in."

"What? That's impossible."

"Just answer my question."

"Well... I don't know the statistics off the top of my head... but the biggest issue would be trying to retain enough food. It doesn't matter how much you bring in... if it's all gone or rotten within a couple of days."

"So you need a continuous supply," The Dragonslayer muttered thoughtfully, nodding his head as though he were having a conversation with himself, "If I were able to grant that for you, would you accept more people?"

"I mean..." Syras looked at Meriam, who raised her eyebrow, "Yes... it would be a logistical nightmare. But it would be doable if we had the resources to maintain that number. I just don't see how that is possible."

"Just leave it to me," the Dragonslayer responded, "I think I can sort something out."

If anyone else had spoken those words Syras would have laughed in their face, but if the Dragonslayer was good at one thing, it was achieving the impossible.

"Unfortunately I have yet to find a reason to distrust you," growled Syras, "But know that until something has been sorted out, I will not accept any more people into Refuge city."

"Not even some stragglers?" the Dragonslayer raised an eyebrow.

"I meant mass refugees. We simply don't have enough to feed anymore."

"I believe you. Don't worry, I will figure out something. Give me a couple of months and that stress at least will be pulled from your shoulders."

"And replaced with new ones," Syras muttered under his breath, before nodding his head, "In a couple of months then."

The Dragonslayer turned to walk away, intent on leaving the city.

"Wait," Meriam said, "You've been traveling for a long time. Why don't you take a night or two to rest before heading out again?"

He seemed to consider the offer for a moment, before shaking his head, "Unfortunately I have no time to rest. There are too many things that I need to do."

"Always busy huh?" Syras sighed, shaking his head, "Just what is your plan in all of this, Dragonslayer? What do you hope to achieve by continuing on your ridiculous mission?"

"Besides the survival of the human race?" the Dragonslayer smirked slightly.

"You have to realise that hiding everyone you come across here is not a long-term solution. We can't live underground forever."

The Dragonslayer hesitated a moment, before looking at Syras in the eye, speaking honestly, "This is my contingency plan, just in case I can't stop what I fear this war between dragons will lead to."

"You mean the end of the world?"

"Quite possibly."

"And how do you plan on stopping that?"

"I'm going to kill the fire queen."

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Well people! Here it is! I hope you enjoyed. Got this out a little later than I wanted to but it's here now XD. Vote if you enjoyed and comment on what you thought. Give me your theories people. What do you think will happen towards the end XD. Fun fact as well... this is probably the shortest Chronicle thus far, as I couldn't think of many other details to add to it. As for the next chronicles, have a look below.

Exceptional: Yova, Fire drake - 26Yrs BTA

Racing Dragons: Eluvia, Wind dragoness - 19Yrs BTA

See Ya!

Pennator^^