The First Dragoneer (3 page)

“
Come on, March. Spit it out!” Bren
yelled. “Just tell me!”

“
There’s a cave down there!” March was
beaming. “A big ole cave!”

“
You wanted to go on an adventure, sad
sack. Let’s go on one!” March said moving back up the hill on one
side of the rocky shelf. “There’s a way down over here,” he
pointed.

Bren quickly pulled all the slack out of the
rope and nearly yanked March off of his feet. Between laughs he
said, “At least—untie yourself first, you big giboon!”

March blushed realizing that in his rush to
get down to the cave he had completely forgotten that he had a rope
tied to his waist. He gave his end a good yank, pulling it free
from Bren’s hands. He yanked it hard enough to give Bren a burn in
his palms. Even though he was the one laughing now, it took him
only seconds to untie himself. He coiled the rope back up quickly,
and then shouldered it.

The descent proved to be tedious. The ground
was loose and rocky, and the trees were in all the wrong places.
They ended up going away from the shelf, out into the forest where
the grade seemed a little better. They had to backtrack twice and
ended up going too far down slope. When they finally realized this,
the cave was above them, looming up the slope like a hungry maw.
Climbing back up to it, they began to feel the humidity of the
forest. The sun was directly overhead now. The trees shaded the
ground well, but the canopy was so thick that it held in the ground
moisture. It wasn’t long before both of the boys’ woolen shirts and
leather pants were soaked with sweat. To make matters worse there
was no breeze to be felt at all. The trees kept it from reaching
them.

The dark mouth of the cave grew as they
approached it. They could see that it was deep. What hid in those
depths was the mystery. The only thing about the hole that was
inviting was the knowledge that inside the cavern they could cool
off and take a short rest.

The natural opening was easily ten paces wide
and half again that tall. The rock formation seemed out of place
sitting there by itself in the middle of the dense forested
greenery. Scattered here and there up along the cliff-like face
were clumps of mossy growth and a few patches of vines that bloomed
with brilliantly colored little blue and yellow flowers.

March didn’t hesitate. Just inside, out of
the sun, he plopped down on a piece of rock and began rummaging
through his pack for food and water. Bren joined him, already
sipping from the deer skin canteen he carried at his hip. Both were
winded from the climb back up to the cavern so neither spoke for a
long while. They ate and sipped cool water and let their bodies
rejuvenate. All the while the endless possibilities of what could
be hiding down in the cavern kept culminating in their
imaginations.

After a while Bren whispered, “I wonder how
far back it goes?”

“
We’ll find out soon enough, won't we?”
March laughed confidently. “Why are you whispering?”

“
This is a big cave,” Bren answered
seriously, his voice still a whisper. “Something big could live
back there.”

March hadn’t thought of that. His mind began
to race through all the creatures he knew of that were big enough
to do them harm. He turned to Bren dropping his tone and volume to
match his friends. “We’ll be quiet and go really slow.” He turned
back and peered into the darkness of the tunnel-like shaft that the
cavern formed. He couldn’t see very far at all. “We’ll have to make
a torch.”

March stood and began looking around the
lighted part of the cave. He found a length of dried wood as big
around as his thigh, and after feeling its weight, he quickly
discarded it. Bren was rummaging through his belt pack so March
headed back out into the woods to seek out a better prospect. He
returned with a piece of green wood nearly four feet long and about
as big around as his wrist. It was heavy but it would be handy as a
club if the need arose. He noticed that Bren had strung his bow and
had moved his quiver of arrows from his back to his hip.

He’d never tell Bren, because it would swell
up his friend’s melon head, but he thought that Bren was the best
archer he’d ever seen. The thought was comforting. He’d once seen
Bren shoot a gobbler out of the air. Bren had fired two arrows in
rapid succession and both had hit their mark. It was improbable to
have hit a bird in flight even once. Bren had hit it twice back to
back, and with lightning speed. March was sure that Bren hadn’t
been lying when he had said that the white stag had been lucky.

“
How are you gonna make a torch out of
that?” Bren asked.

March just shook his head. How could such an
accomplished hunter be such a giboon, he wondered? He sat back down
near his friend and cut an arm length of rope from his coil. He
tied it tightly around one end of the limb. Then he took out the
silver flask of Master Beryll’s brandy hooch and poured a few
dollops over the rope until it was saturated with the liquid. He
offered Bren a sip from it, but Bren refused it. March took a good
sized swig though, and then put it away. With a red faced grimace,
he held the limb out to Bren for inspection. “Torch,” was all the
sting of the liquor would allow him to say.

Bren was uneasy, almost scared, about going
deeper into the cavern. He would never let it show though, not to
March. He had said he wanted an adventure. Now here he was, across
the ridge in the unprotected Teeth, about to venture into a cavern
big enough for a bear, or a family of rock trolls, or even a small
dragon to call home.

Not that Bren really thought that there was a
dragon here. The mighty dragons hadn’t been seen in the area for
dozens of years. Even when they had, they were seen from great
distances as they flew overhead, doing whatever it is that dragons
do in the sky. Still, the possibility of what might reside deep in
this cavern was unnerving.

In between his short bouts of fear, Bren
found himself terribly excited. He wondered how March could remain
so calm. Maybe March was scared too. Maybe March was just able to
hide it better. Or maybe March was just that confident.

March didn’t look terrified, but he was. It
wasn’t easy always taking the lead. Bren had wanted an adventure,
and March wanted to have a hunting trip that they would both always
remember forever, so here they were. He wished that Bren hadn’t
said anything about something living in here. Up until then he had
only been excited. Now, he was truly afraid. But he couldn’t let
Bren see it. He told himself that this was just going to be an old
empty cavern and did his best to swallow his fear.

“
Are you ready?” March asked quietly.
He took out his tinder box and prepared to light the makeshift
torch.

“
Yup, just stay to my left, and keep
the torch flame up high, so it stays out of my eyes.” It took great
effort to keep his voice from trembling as he added. “I want to
have a good clear shot if we run into anything hungry back
there.”

March lit the torch and then handed it to his
friend while he put the flint and steel back into the tinder box
and put it away. He unsheathed his skinning knife and took the
torch back from Bren. With the brightly flaming brand in one hand
and the long blade in the other, he started moving deeper into the
cave.

The flickering light of the brand allowed
them to see about twenty paces ahead. The flames caused exaggerated
shadows to dance around the tunnel like ghoulish specters. Beyond
the shadows, the thick blackness swallowed up the light like a
hungry beast.

There were webs deeper in the cave. Some of
them spanned the entire width of the shaft like forgotten fishing
nets. More than a few fist sized spiders scurried from the noisy
brightness of their approach. After only a few hundred feet, March
was forced to get in front of Bren because the shaft began to
narrow.

“
Don’t get too far ahead of me, March!”
Bren whispered nervously. Even at a whisper his voice reverberated
off the rough rocky walls.

“
I won’t,” March joked. “I don’t want
an arrow in the back when one of those spiders drops on your fat
head.”

“
Not funny.” Bren wasn’t laughing. His
attention had been drawn up ahead of them. He gripped the
semi-drawn arrow with the index finger of his bow hand so that his
right hand was free. He reached forward and tapped March on the
shoulder with it. When he had his friend’s attention he pointed up
ahead at what he saw, then drew back his arrow again and stepped
around March.

“
What is it?” March asked. He had to
squint his eyes to block out the glare from the torch flame. “Is it
a rock?”

“
Only if the rocks in here grow fur!”
Bren said as his arrow loosed at the thing.

The arrow struck with a thump and sunk deeply
into the creature. Before March could take a breath, Bren had
another arrow ready to fire.

“
It’s not rock,” said March moving
toward it cautiously. “And it stinks!”

“
It’s not alive,” Bren stated the
obvious. His arrow was still trained on the thing
though.

They were relieved to see that it was just a
dead deer. That relief faded quickly when they saw that it was only
part of a deer. Half of it had been torn away, leaving a puddle of
thick black muck that was littered with pieces of broken bone. A
trail of splotchy red and black led from the carcass into the
blackness.

“
Pretty fresh kill,” March commented
after kneeling and examining it. “The stink is from the curdled
blood, not the meat.”

“
It’s time to get out of here, March,”
Bren said sternly. “Something bit off the whole back half of that
doe. I don’t want to meet it!”

March wasn’t listening. He was already moving
further into the cave. He’d seen something else and was heading
toward it. Bren hurried after him, and was just about to yank his
friend back by the shoulder and haul him out of there when he saw
what March was after. He gasped loudly.

It was the skeleton of a human. It was whole
and still encased in rusty ringed mail armor. At the side of the
body was a dusty, but wicked looking sword. Several small packs
were attached to the dead man’s belt, and a large leather backpack
was still strung over his shoulders.

“
Hold this,” March said as he thrust
the torch to Bren. Reluctantly Bren took the brand even though
holding it meant that he wouldn’t be ready to fire an arrow if
trouble came. He looked on in horror at what March started to do
next.

“
You can’t steal from the dead, March!”
Bren said rather loudly. The word dead echoed around the cavern and
down the tunnel like an ominous warning.

“
It’s not stealing,” March justified as
he unlocked the sword belt and fastened it over his shoulder. “This
isn’t digging up a grave. This guy has been here a long time.” He
rolled the skeleton over and almost jumped out of his skin as it
broke apart in his hands.

“
All right, but hurry! I don’t like
this one bit.”

March pulled the leather backpack free,
causing the skull to roll over and look up at him as if it were
still alive. He took a deep breath and repositioned the body in a
more comfortable looking position. “Rest peacefully whoever you
were,” He said softly.

He slung the pack over his shoulder and was
about to reach for the torch, but a glittering sparkle underneath
the dead man’s neck caught his eye.

Bren, seeing his friend reach back down to
the body, yelled out in frustration. “COME ON!... On... on.” His
voice echoed down the cavern.

“
Just a moment,” March growled back up
at Bren’s impatience.

He groped through the dust where he’d seen
the flashing reflection and found a small chain with his
fingertips. As he pulled it out from under the dead warrior, he
could feel the substantial weight of something that dangled from
it.

“
Light, Bren!” He ordered. Bren sighed
and held the torch forth so that he and March could both see what
it was.

The firelight reflected so brilliantly off of
the thumb sized gem mounted in the dirty medallion that it nearly
blinded them.

“
Wow,” March gasped, turning to his
friend. “Its--”

His voice was drowned out by the sudden angry
growl of something very big and very close.

March pulled the medallion’s chain over his
head and grabbed the torch back from his friend.

“
Let’s go!” Bren yelled again. His bow
was instantly drawn and his arrow trained at the area of darkness
where the sound had come. “Now!”

March gave no argument. He immediately began
backing through the cavern towards the entrance, holding the torch
out toward the sound they had heard. They awkwardly tried to stay
side-by-side as they continued moving backwards as quickly as they
could.

They heard the thump of heavy footfalls
pounding rapidly towards them from the darkness. A strong alien
scent filled the air. Whatever it was, it was four legged, and it
was closing in on them.

A deep rumbling growl began and quickly
turned into a screechy roar. It was right there, just outside of
the torchlight. March could see several glistening reflections in
the darkness, all of which were at least a head taller than he was.
He was sure it was eyes and teeth, or maybe scales that he was
seeing.

“
Loose, Bren!” March yelled. An arrow
thrummed by his ear from his friend’s bow.

A viscous screech filled the cavern then, and
the head and wing claws of a snarling young wyvern charged into the
torchlight. Its scales were pale, almost pink. It was dragon-like,
but not nearly as large as even a young wyrm was rumored to be.
It’s long sinuous body was the size of a small horse, or a big tree
cat, and it’s toothy serpent head was already lunging. Two huge
fangs curled up from its bottom jaw and jutted above plum sized
nostril holes. Behind them, eyes that looked like cherry walnuts
glowed with indignant rage. Menacingly, the strange reptilian
creature roared at them and crouched to strike. The arrow Bren had
fired protruded harmlessly from creature’s shoulder. Bren didn’t
hesitate to fire again, this time aiming for the vital chest area
between the creature’s stumpy forelegs. The arrow sank deeply, but
didn’t even slow the bursting charge. A huge raking claw lashed out
at March and though it barely missed his flesh, it hung in the
thick leather sword belt he had taken from the corpse. He, and the
torch, were slung violently into the cavern wall.