Here be dragons

Out of the darkness the rain started. Matt pulled his woolen hat over his ears and tried to ignore the pitter-patter of the falling rain-drops on the plastic hood of his rain-coat. The wool over his ears muffled the thunder breaking in the distance. For whatever reason the lightning seemed to favor the shadowy structure in front of them, so he now looked forward for the next spurt of light showing the path and its dangers.

Ron's voice sounded weak through the falling rain.
"We will stop at the tower, lets hope we'd find a semblance of a roof there."

Matt grimaced and muttered; however, his voice lost the fight with the rain.
"And let's hope the tower has also a lightning rod."

He reminded himself why he was here braving the mud on a starless night, despite the name calling. Nerd and weakling Ron had called him behind the closed door of his office. He then shoved in his face the yellowed piece of parchment he called a map. Matt couldn't see it well; however, he noticed a couple of words in latin inscribed on it.

Ron's loud voice rushed through the rain.
"We're here! Help me push the door."

Lightning slashed through the air and answered Ron's call. Just in time for Matt to take a step back and avoid Ron's heavy boots.

The door screamed on its hinges but didn't move. Matt shook his head.
"I am not going in there. I see no lightening rod."

"Nerd and weakling, I knew it. I told Will that much. You'd never fill his boots."

The next lightning spell revealed a red faced Matt, with fists closed tightly.  The silhouette of the angry man, stepping through the halo of light was lost on Ron as he already was pushing at the heavy doors.

Matt marched through the mud and thrust into the gates with all his anger. The gateway creaked and moved enough to admit one man at a time. Ron rushed in, and Matt followed with caution. He shook the excess of water on the dry ground, and Ron lit a lantern then pulled out the weathered piece of parchment.

"How far to the village?" Ron asked.

Matt studied the map with heightened attention.

"Two miles down the path, you should be there in the next hour or so. I'll wait for the rain to stop."

Ron eyed him with interest.

"Alone?"

An owl hooted inside the tower and sent a shiver down Matt's spine. He clenched his fists and silently swore he would fill his father's boots. This is why he was there, to keep his promise.

"I'll be fine, go."

Ron shrugged and turned towards the door, and Matt entered the darkness of the tower.  He clutched the map and sighed with relief that Ron forgot to ask for it. It was a shortly lived joy as he heard him behind.

"Your're going for it. How do you know it's here?"

Matt brought the lighter close to the map and pointed:

"There!"

"There what? It's only some gibberish. H... C... S... V...N...T...D...R..."

Matt smiled. "Hic sunt dracones, here be dragons."

Ron burst in laughter.

"We're talking about a treasure here, not fairy tales."

"This usually means a hidden, unknown or dangerous zone. Who knows what we might find there."

Ron eyed him with caution. "How do you know that?"

Matt grinned in defiance. "I'm a nerd, remember?"

Ron looked at him in disbelief and muttered. "I guess the fairies killed the weakling..."

Matt turned and climbed the stairs to the top of the tower. The roof was missing, and the rain whipped him again. Except the thick wall there was nothing there. Lightning struck and hit the stones. The wall unraveled, and for a fraction of a second he saw  them: the wolf made of iron, with the dragon tail floating in the wind, and the wolf made of flesh as he jumped towards him. Its paws hit him, and he fell into the darkness.

Matt woke up at the howl of wolves and cold raindrops hitting his face. The lightning missed this time the top of the tower and in it its light he saw Ron's body sprawled on the floor. He clutched a dagger in his right hand, and his eyes stared open at the sky. Matt shivered at the sight of the gash in his neck as the wolf licked quietly the blood streaming down the floor. Another howl almost stopped his heart and Matt turned in its direction. It was like the books said; the wind howled through the mouth of the wolf. It was two thousand years old, and it was the treasure his father searched for all his life. He fell to his death, from these very walls in his quest  to find it.

Matt picked up the iron wolf and the howling ceased. He looked once more at Ron and sighed at the sight of the dagger in his hand. He hadn't realized how much Ron hated him... Matt's musings stopped at the sight of a second dagger the wolf pushed close to Ron. He took a bag and carefully deposited the two daggers in it. Somehow he would prove his father didn't fall to his death from the tower. He would prove Ron attacked and killed him. He was done playing the weakling.

The wolf nudged him and pulled at the iron dracones. Matt looked at the two daggers in the bag then followed the wolf. Its pleading eyes struck him then he understood. He placed the iron wolf in the wall's opening and left when the wolf pulled at his raincoat. Just in time to avoid the avalanche of rocks that fell when lightening struck.

Climbing down the stairs, Matt thought about his father's last words. "Find. The. Truth. Ron."

Back then it galled him the lack of trust his father has shown him on the brink of death.

Today he understood it was the deepest faith.