Dragonhunt (2 page)

“So you didn't really sic a
ketch
on him?” Gorgar asked.

“Of course not. But he thinks I did. Now let me get some sleep, would you? It's bad enough that I get dragged into the gods-forsaken hinterland to go hunting for a powerful and dangerous beast, but I won't stand for this incessant chatter.”

“Look who's been doing the talking,” Fliss muttered.

Y’vin ignored this and almost immediately began to snore.

* * *

The morning dawned grey and cloudy. The rising sun was only a bright place in the thick overcast. Fliss woke everyone when the light grew bright enough to see more than a dozen paces. Sir Aramon and Gorgar helped each other into their armored shells while Y’vin placed a pot on the coals of the fire. Tindal stepped outside and faced the direction of the hidden sun; he knelt and began to pray.

It was less than an hour later that they hit the road again. The tent was packed, the gear stowed, the campfire obliterated, and most of the signs that a camp had even been there were gone. It wasn't perfect, but it was unlikely to draw anything's attention, not even from the air.

Besides, old habits died hard so their owners didn't have to.

As they rode, Y’vin asked, “Someone want to tell me again why we're going to go bother a scaly beast that isn't stomping on our sand-castles? I'm still a little unclear on that.”

“Because,” Sir Aramon answered, quoting, “‘
There shall rise into the air dark things, kin to the Serpent of Night, and thou shalt smite them, and hew them, lest the fumes of their breath bring ruin to all the birds and beasts of the earthly plane
.’”

“Book of Namae, chapter six, verses six and seven?” Tindal guessed.

“Very good, priest. I did not think you knew my god's holy works?”

“I'm more familiar with the Solar Scrolls,” Tindal answered, and made a gesture—a closed fist in front of his heart, opened suddenly, like a starburst—”but I decided to at least be familiar with your faith so as not to inadvertently blaspheme your god.”

“It sounds like you're much more than familiar,” Sir Aramon noted.

Tindal shrugged. “I cannot help my memory. It is one of my gifts.”

“Would that I had such,” Sir Aramon replied. “It was test of my teachers' faith to commit the Book of Namae to my memory.”

“The test of ours is coming.”

* * *

The dragon was first seen in the high air that evening. A line of light streaked the heavens above the setting sun. Sir Aramon nudged Gorgar and pointed. Everyone's gaze swung to the west.

“Looks like a dragon,” Y’vin stated. “How big do you think it is?”

“Sixty, seventy feet,” Tindal guessed.

“More like eighty, at least,” Fliss replied, hand held low to shade his eyes. “It's further away than you think.” Tindal and Gorgar glanced at Y’vin.

“He’s the one with the eyes,” Y’vin stated.  “Elves in his ancestry, I bet.”

“I’m not the fairy here, Y’vin,” Fliss replied.

“Look, the man walked in on
me
while I was in the bath!” Y’vin began, heatedly.

“Any idea where it's going?” Sir Aramon asked, interrupting.

“I think I think it's got something in its claws,” Fliss said. “I'm not sure what it is, not from here.”

“Then it's probably headed back to its den,” Sir Aramon said. “Blast! I wish we could have been a bit quicker. That may be some village girl.”

“It's more likely to be a sheep or a cow,” Y’vin replied. “You know how hard it is to find a virgin, these days.” He snickered. “Or maybe you don't.”

“Y’vin, just because my vows preclude—”

“That's enough!” Tindal declared. “I swear, we never used to bicker, jabber, and argue like this in the old days! Look at us! We're getting on each others' nerves like a bunch of boys while their tutor is out of the room! What is this? Some fair-day outing? Pull yourselves together and act like men!”

Sir Aramon flushed inside his helm. Y’vin simply frowned in thought. Gorgar and Fliss both pretended not to hear, but knew that the injunction had been directed at them just as much, if not as directly.  There was an awkward silence while everyone looked at the sunset.

“Have I been acting like a child?” Y’vin asked, finally.  He sounded more thoughtful than anything else.

“You have,” Tindal replied, calmly.

“I had not noticed. Thank you for drawing my attention to it. And I apologize to you all for my… manner.”  He sighed.  “I can be difficult, and I know it.  With most people, I don’t really care.  With you...  I will attempt to be… less difficult.”

Fliss looked amused. “Oh? Then who are you, and what have you done with the real Y’vin?”

“I outgrew him,” Y’vin replied. “Why haven't you outgrown the Fliss we used to go out questing with?”

“Because I was already perfect,” Fliss replied, unabashed. “Do we camp, or do we go dragon-hunting in the dark?”

* * *

It was several days later, in the early evening, when the group hobbled the horses among the trees.

“What do you think, Tindal?”

“I'm thinking that we'll have a much better idea where the den is tonight. If the dragon follows his pattern and comes back this way again around sunset, we should be able to see where it goes. Somewhere up on that mountainside is a cave, I bet.”

Gorgar, seated beneath a tree and sharpening a sword, nodded. “If we can spot that, I say we sneak in during the day, while it's out, and ambush it.”

Fliss grinned. “I like that plan.”

Sir Aramon shook his head. “I do not think it has much honor in it.”

“Not a bit,” Y’vin answered, “but it has a much higher chance of us walking out of the fight with whole skins.”

Sir Aramon opened his mouth to argue, but the expressions on the others' faces told him the story. It was the plan. It was how things would work. It was the only way to go.

“I won't strike with you,” he said.

“I know, Ari,” Tindal replied. “We'll ambush it, and you can join the fight. I know it's not what you'd like—”

“—but it's the best you can do.” Sir Aramon sighed. “It rankles, Tindal. It is without honor.”

“I guess the question,” Y’vin answered, “is whether you value your honor more than the lives of a bunch of virgin girls.”

The silence following that statement was all the more profound for the look of shock on Sir Aramon's face.

“I—I've never thought of—” he began, and trailed off into silence. He rose from his seat at the base of a tree and walked a little way off from the group.

Gorgar, Fliss, and Tindal turned with seething glares to face Y’vin.

“Oh, come on,” Y’vin said. “You've thought that before.”

“Yes,” Fliss hissed, “but had the good sense to avoid giving a good friend a serious crisis of conscience!”

“Indeed,” Tindal agreed. “You know what he's doing now. He's praying that his pride hasn't been the death of some unknown number of innocents.”

“Nice going,” Gorgar added.

Y’vin muttered something and sighed. Then he looked up. “Oh, look! A dragon!”

* * *

The entrance was under a heavy outcrop of stone. The passage itself was little more than a crack in the mountain, worn to smoothness by the belly-plates of the beast. With the dragon out hunting for its next meal, the group entered quickly and hurried down the slanting face of stone. In Gorgar's case, this was a trifle too quickly; he slipped, failed to catch himself, and began a long, spark-showered slide down the smooth incline. He vanished from sight around a turn of the passage, but his wild yell echoed back to his companions. There was a resounding clangor, and silence.

“Gorgar!” Sir Aramon shouted. The echoes of his voice reverberated eerily.

“You have to try that!” Gorgar shouted back.

Sir Aramon and the rest looked at each other.

“I'll pass,” Sir Aramon said. Tindal nodded. Y’vin and Fliss just shrugged.

The remaining four continued down more cautiously to rejoin their distant friend. Down, down, and down it wound, twisting crazily until it opened into a cavern. The torches of the invaders illuminated perhaps a third of the whole space.

A depression, worn into the floor of the cavern, formed an enormous bowl. Within this lay the rich glitter of gold in the torchlight.

While the others looked the place over, Gorgar gave his assessment.

“The place is big, but not big enough to stay out of the thing's reach,” he noted. “Good spot for the dragon. There are two other openings, but I don't know where they go. They may lead to other, more difficult entrances; we have to consider that it might not come in by the front door. The other openings look tight, though—it may not use them.”

“Have you looked at the hoard?” Fliss asked.

“Yes. Don't touch it. If it notices even a single coin out of place—and it would—it will have more warning than we want.”

“Afterward, though” Fliss said, eyes never leaving the pile.

“Afterward, you'll have your work cut out for you; there's a lot of stuff you'll have to evaluate.”

“Right. What's our plan?”

Gorgar gestured for the others to follow him. He walked around the perimeter of the chamber and pointed out details.

“See the other openings; they may be useful escapes for us if things go badly. And the ledges. We can start there, and one of these may be a good spot for Y’vin to stand and throw spells. Sir Aramon and I will be to either side of the main entry. Tindal will be with me. Namae looks after Sir Aramon; I'll need Tindal on my side. Besides, Tindal and I will strike first and attract its attention. Fliss, you'll be above the opening, on that ledge, there. Once we have it suitably distracted, you can drop down on its neck and get busy with those double blades of yours.”

“What about the fire?” Sir Aramon asked. “Fliss will be safe enough from it, if he gets into position, but you two are likely to roast.”

“I'll ask for protection,” Tindal replied. “The Sunlord will not permit mere fire to harm us.”

Sir Aramon nodded. “All right.”

Y’vin was listening, but also looking over the roof. “I like that ledge, there,” he said, and pointed. “It's got a good view and it looks like I can step back far enough to be out of sight if I have to.”

“All right. Fliss, if you'll go up and get a line on it, we'll see about getting Y’vin up there without wasting any of the magic we're going to need.”

Fliss bowed from the waist. “As you suggest, O Tactician Masterful.” He drew out several tools and prepared himself for the climb. “I don't recall that you've ever fought a dragon before. Are you sure this plan will work?”

“Nope,” Gorgar replied, and grinned at him. “But isn't that what makes it exciting?”

Fliss sighed, but smiled as well. “I would argue that, but am I not the one who first said it to you?”

“Yep,” Gorgar answered. Fliss started up the cavern wall.

“Anything in particular you want from me?” Y’vin asked.

“Improvise. If you have a clear shot, take it,” Gorgar advised.

“It's long enough,” Y’vin mused. “If it gets into the chamber proper, some section of it should be far enough away from the rest of you.”

“We'll try to keep its body in the passage,” Gorgar said. “That will restrict its movement. I don't think it'll like that, so it'll come into the chamber or retreat. If it retreats, we're well and truly hammered. That will mean we can only perform frontal attacks, and that's a bad idea. But if we can make it angry enough to come into the chamber—especially after we get a couple of good swings on it when it can't really reply—we can probably beat it down.”

Y’vin grinned. “I can guarantee that it'll come into the chamber.”

“Oh?”

“Once you start swinging, I'll float some of the money out of the hoard and toward an exit. Can you imagine any dragon letting that kind of thing go on without a fight?”

Gorgar chuckled. “No. All right, that's the plan. Any questions?”

Fliss called down from the ledge. “Yes. Will someone please tie a rope to Y’vin?”

* * *

The next hours were spent in near-total silence and absolute blackness. Torches extinguished, the cavern was blacker than the darkest night. The five waited for their quarry, as silently as they were able. Each minute dragged like a sack of rocks, slow and torturous, with anticipation looming ever more fearsome on the horizon.

And a scraping sound echoed from the tunnel.

The five were instantly alert, both with fear and with relief. The waiting, over at long last, gave way to the feeling of imminent battle.

The scraping grew louder, the sound of scales dragging on stone. A smell, oily and sulphurous, wafted ahead of the oncoming beast. The hunters, eyes adapted to utter darkness, detected the faint orange light from the dragon's eyes as they shone ahead. The golden hoard gleamed with an almost bloody color in the light.

Sir Aramon and Gorgar had swords in hand, backs pressed to the wall, and an almost surreal calm. Tindal was on one knee, next to Gorgar, silently praying. Fliss drew one blade at a time, between fingers pressed to the metal, silencing the draw. Y’vin seated himself at the edge of his ledge and took three timed, rhythmic breaths to center his consciousness in preparation for calling forth his most destructive energies.