W is for Wyvern

The twenty-third of the stories from our adult coloring book, Dungeon Monsters & Tavern Tales: A Gamer’s A to Z Coloring Book with Short Stories. Each coloring page monster has a corresponding tale on the back. Find our coloring book here: https://urbanrealms.com/product-category/fantasy-art/

One spring morning the door of the Bandy Squire banged open and two men carried in an injured man on a makeshift stretcher. “Where’s the cleric!” called one of the stretcher bearers. “We need help.”

A woman in chain mail rose from her mug of ale and hurried toward them. Locals swept drinks off a table and they set down the stretcher.

The cleric found a faint pulse. The injured man wore bloodied leather armor and a wooden club at his waist. His hair and beard were long and tangled. One leg was badly crushed, a number of ribs broken, and bloody welts crisscrossed his body.

“We found him under the big oak outside of town,” said a stretcher bearer as townsfolk gathered.

“Druid, I’d guess,” said the cleric. She laid one hand on his chest and with her other, clutched the silver, lightning bolt amulet that hung around her neck. She raised her eyes. “Glorious Heironeous, grant your humble servant the power of your grace to heal this mortal.”

Welts faded and his skin knit back together, but his mangled leg did not change.

The patient took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He gasped in pain. The cleric squeezed his shoulder. “Easy,” she told him. “Don’t try to move. You were badly injured. Can you tell us your name?”

“Eldrich,” said the man, through gritted teeth. “I was riding Minerva when I was thrown.”

“Your horse did this to you?” said one of the bystanders.

He shook his head. “Minerva is a wyvern.”

The crowd gasped. “You fell from the sky and lived?” said the Cleric. “Then indeed your god loves you, though your mount may not.”

“It wasn’t her fault,” said Eldrich. “Another wyvern, large and aggressive, came out of nowhere. It knocked me off Mini’s back with its tail. It grabbed Mini’s neck in its jaws. As I fell I saw her struggling to get free. I don’t know if my Mini yet lives.” His eyes filled with tears.

“Have faith,” said the cleric, “and rest.”

One chilly fall daybreak, Eldrich lay in his bed contemplating the daily pain of rising and making breakfast. It didn’t seem worth the effort. Nothing did. Without Mini he was just a broken man, shuffling through his days. He was considering never rising again when he heard a familiar rhythmic rush of wind in the small forest glen outside his door.

Minerva’s wing beats, landing!

He grabbed his quarterstaff and hauled himself and his useless leg out of bed. He hobbled to the door and flung it open. Minerva roared in greeting and Eldrich limped to her. “My girl!” Her body was painfully thin and her tan and green scales dull and scarred here and there, but she was alive.

Mini folded her giant wings, pulled gently away from him, and went to the edge of the forest clearing. She looked back over her shoulder at Eldrich and gave a birdlike chirp. He hobbled toward her, leaning on his quarterstaff. She moved off again and looked back at him.

Eldrich nodded. “Lead on, Mini, I’ll follow as best I can.”

The next two hours were torturous. Mini was too weak to ride, so Eldrich’s leg screamed in pain as he followed her. Often Mini would return to Eldrich so he could lean on her scaled neck as he hauled himself through the forest. She helped him along as best she could. Only his joy at having her back and his curiosity as to where she was taking him kept him going.

Exhausted, they entered a small clearing. Eldrich gasped. He wrapped his arms around Mini’s lithe neck. “None of us can deny nature, can we girl,” he said. He turned back to the four squabbling wyvern babies nestled among broken egg shells and fallen logs. “I guess you two weren’t fighting after all.”