Dragon Quest

by Craig Askham

  Ben’s breath caught in his mouth at the thought of one of their group wanting to harm the magnificent beasts the rest of them had come to simply observe.

  “No way is that happening,” he said, quietly. Caspillo looked across at him, and smiled.

  “Of course it isn’t.”

  “That’s not what this is about though, is it?” Vantalon spoke the words, but when Caspillo’s smile widened into a grin in response, he was still aiming it in Ben’s direction. “There’s more.”

  “Yes. There’s more. Stillwater isn’t a democracy, and it certainly doesn’t rely on Vykron’s mafia money to keep the portals fuelled up. We could have simply banned him from ever coming here again, and he wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing about it. We try to leave our gamers to their own devices as much as possible, but we draw the line at hunting dragons. That’s the sort of thing that will get us exposed and shut down for good. The absolute last thing we want is for the people of this planet to know we’re here. They’d think they were being invaded, and there’d be mass hysteria. A lot of people would die, and the portals could fall into the wrong hands.” He paused to let this information sink in, and then sighed melodramatically. “It’s quite the responsibility.”

  “So why didn’t you, then?” Ben asked, running a hand through hair that a premature attack of adrenaline was already starting to turn clammy.

  “Why didn’t we what?”

  “Ban the little bastard.”

  “Oh.”

  Ben looked ahead, and estimated they had a little over a minute before they rejoined the rest of their group. Jas Toor and Lee were still watching the dragons, but Sorin and Talia were back on their feet and watching their imminent arrival. The look on Sorin’s face was a mix of suspicion and jealousy.

  “Going to have to hurry you, Caspillo,” he said.

  “Right, then.” The Catcher paused briefly to take a breath and gather his thoughts, then launched into a succinct explanation that was no doubt going to lead to more questions that he wouldn’t be able to answer by the time they arrived back at the waterfall. “Vykron has been a naughty little gangster, and enlisted some help in his dragon hunt. One of them is a mage, hence the little trip into the woods to drop off a beacon that will allow his pet mage to locate our location and transport the rest of the hired help here.”

  “How do you know all this?” Ben demanded.

  “Because we’ve suspected for some time which mage Vykron has been associating with, and portals are very much his thing. One plus one equals two.”

  “Who else is coming?” Vantalon wondered, looking over his shoulder back into the woods as if they were about to be attacked. Ben supposed he wasn’t too far from the truth.

  “Hey! Where in all the hells have you lot been?” Sorin Costache had grown bored of waiting for their arrival, and was making determined strides towards them. Ben did the first thing that popped into his head, and raised the middle finger of his right hand in Sorin’s direction.

  “I’m a Catcher,” Caspillo reminded them, by way of answer. “It’s what I do. I catch people from our world who decide they want to stay here for good, and I drag them back through the portal by the scruffs of their necks. Now, whilst I’m wholeheartedly against what Vykron’s up to, stopping him isn’t really my department. There are others far more suited to that. I’m here because…”

  “There’s someone coming that you want to catch,” Ben finished for him, and Caspillo clapped him immediately on the back.

  “Seriously, we came here to watch the dragons but you lot end up disappearing into the woods together?” Sorin didn’t sound too happy at being left out, and wasn’t afraid to let them all know. “What were you doing, building treehouses?”

  “Whoa there, Mr. Angry,” said Ben, waving his hands in front of him as if warding off an infectious disease. “You feeling left out because we went for a piss without you?”

  Sorin flounced back over to Talia and draped an arm possessively over her shoulder. She didn’t look too pleased with him for it, glaring up at him even though she knew full well he wasn’t going to take his eyes off Ben. One by one, Caspillo’s soldiers returned.

  “You’ve all been for a piss together, have you?” Sorin enquired. “You all held each others’, I suppose, in one long line?”

  Caspillo cleared his throat, paying no attention at all to Sorin. He addressed the group.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to need your attention for a moment or two, please.”

  Jas Toor turned to face him immediately, and then reached out to punch Lee Casey on the shoulder to divert his attention from the dragons. He looked at her in confusion, and then turned to face Caspillo.

  “What’s going on?”

  “In a few moments,” the Stillwater man continued, “a former member of our friendly little group is going to emerge from those trees with some of his new friends. They’re going to try to kill the dragons we came here to observe, and they also won’t hesitate to attack anyone that gets in their way.” He paused for that to sink in. Ben looked in turn at each of the faces he assumed this news was going to be a surprise for. Jas Toor’s face immediately turned to rage, but the lack of surprise on her features suggested to him that she, at least, had been aware of the real operation the whole time. It made sense; he didn’t know how powerful magic users were, but if the attackers were bringing one then it stood to reason they would need their own in order to deal with him. Next was Lee, who looked nothing short of gormless. His mouth opened and closed like a fish and, despite being employed by Stillwater, it was very clear indeed that he hadn’t been filled in on the whole plan. He looked at Sorin and Talia together, as they were still standing in each other’s pockets. Both had almost identical expressions on their faces, eyebrows raised and mouths open in shock. The lights were on, but there was nobody home. Finally, Lee found some high-pitched words to hurl in Caspillo’s direction.

  “This is a joke, right? I mean, you’re yanking our chains, mate. Aren’t you?”

  His words spurred on the ever helpful Sorin. He extricated himself from Talia and took three bold steps in Caspillo’s direction.

  “This is not what we signed up for,” he pointed out. A new thought occurred to him. “Are we actually in danger?”

  “Why can’t the dragons see them coming?” Vantalon asked. “Jas, is your spell shielding them as well as us?”

  “Unfortunately,” the magic user seethed. “It’s a blanket spell, not a spell that only protects certain people.”

  “They’re coming, Cas.” Ben looked around to see who’d spoken, and saw that it was Meryt. He looked bored, and was looking back towards the trees. Ben followed his line of sight, and nearly cried out in fright. At least a dozen men, maybe two, were headed their way, armed to the teeth, taking their time. Fighting down the panic that was rising like a shaken bottle of soda, he switched his eyes back to Caspillo. He was looking towards the trees, counting under his breath.

  “Meryt,” he said, slowly.

  “Yep?”

  “I think we underestimated how many people Vykron was bringing. What say you?”

  “You reckon?”

  “I reckon. I count twenty one of them, including Vykron and the mage. Can’t tell yet if the target is among them.”

  “Twenty one?” Meryt whistled through his teeth.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Wouldn’t worry too much, boss. We’ve got Ben, after all. And his sword.”

  Ben’s cheeks turned red, but anger was way down the list of emotions currently warring for control of his body. He wasn’t used to being the butt of jokes, especially considering Sorin Costache was here and making a complete idiot of himself. Why wasn’t Meryt picking on him? It didn’t matter. Not when twenty one men were headed their way with sharp weapons and ill intent.

  “Take up positions,” Caspillo said, raising his voice enough for his soldiers to hear him, but not enough to break the spell hiding them from
the dragons. “Protect the gamers, protect the dragons, capture the target.” He finished off the list with a chuckle, which caused Meryt to grin.

  “Anything else, while we’re at it?”

  “Actually, yes. Kill the mage, don’t kill Vykron.”

  It was Meryt’s turn to chuckle.

  “And the rest of them?”

  Caspillo shrugged.

  “Kill, maim, whatever. Sorry, I know I promised you all a challenge. You’ll just have to make do.”

  Caspillo’s soldiers began moving, splitting up and heading for the gamers they’d flown here with on the backs of the Kincoras. Rima Kaseevar grabbed him roughly by the arm and hauled him further around the rock pool, and a very quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the other soldiers were doing the same.

  “Shouldn’t we stick together?” he asked, wondering whether it would be a good idea to plant his feet and offer a little resistance. No. Don’t be silly, Ben. Rima sighed.

  “No, Ben. That would make it quite easy for them to surround us, don’t you think? We split up and spread out, forcing the enemy to do the same.”

  “Makes sense, I guess.”

  He continued to allow himself to be dragged around, almost to the ledge by the waterfall. Once there, Rima shoved him so hard he nearly stumbled back into the water. He was going to protest, but noticed the wide-eyed look on her face. Adrenaline had a hold of her now, preparing her body for the fight that was coming. He kept his mouth closed.

  “Listen to me,” she hissed. “I’m supposed to tell you that you do not draw that sword of yours under any circumstances.” She broke off and looked around as if expecting Caspillo to have heard her. She was fighting a battle with herself, and looked to Ben as if she needed a gentle nudge to finish what she wanted to say.

  “However?” he prompted.

  Her head snapped back, and her eyes locked with his. He gave her a gentle nod of encouragement. She took a deep breath, and he could see the shame on her face.

  “If I’m about to be overwhelmed, then you’re dead anyway. You see an opportunity to stab one of those bastards in the back, you take it. You hear me?”

  Ben breathed out, the reality of the situation hitting him hard in the pit of his stomach. Rima was tough, that was for sure. The fact that she was willing to go against the orders of her superior officer showed how scared she was, and what a dangerous situation they were in. Caspillo and Meryt had seemed relaxed, but that was clearly just an act to stop the rest of them from panicking. Rima was kind of spoiling that now. Nevertheless, he’d be damned if he was going to let her down. He loved danger, right? Taking risks? Well, this was no different. Bring on the adrenaline.

  “I’m with you,” he murmured, and his knees nearly gave way. That would be the adrenaline, then.

  “Good,” the soldier said with a nod. “We make it through this, we’re going to get very drunk together. You okay with that?”

  “Definitely.”

  She nodded again, and turned so her back was to him. Her hand darted instinctively to the hilt of the sword on her hip, then she changed her mind and shrugged the bow from her shoulder instead. Two seconds later, she’d grabbed an arrow from the quiver on her back and was ready to draw back her string on Caspillo’s command. Ben sidestepped a couple of times so that she wasn’t blocking his view, and immediately wished he hadn’t. The men from the trees were upon them, spread out to form a long line. Vykron was in the middle, still scowling, grey hair making him unmissable amongst the younger men he was flanked by. On his left was the mage he was in cahoots with, identifiable by the dark robes he was wrapped in, which clashed with the armour worn by everyone else in their group. His head was hooded, features a mystery. On Vykron’s right was a brown haired man with Slavic features that jarred with the neatly trimmed beard he wore like a trophy. He stood tall and proud, almost regal, and it was this that set him apart from the rest of the unkempt mercenaries. He was Caspillo’s target.

  “So you thought you’d spring a trap for me, Caspillo. No?” For some reason, Ben had assumed the bearded man would be the one to do the speaking. He looked like the Russian gangster that all other Russian gangsters had to answer to. The Big Boss. But the words didn’t come from him, they came from Vykron. He sounded very pleased with himself. “The joke is on you, it would seem. Perhaps you should have brought more men?”

  Ben looked to his left, and saw Caspillo take a step forward. His hands were clasped nonchalantly behind his back, and he was back to looking bored. Behind him, Lee Casey lay on his stomach in the grass by the edge of the rock pool, hands over his head as if he was hiding from the bogeyman under his bed covers.

  “You give yourself too much credit, Vykron. I was springing a trap for the man on your right. Consider it sprung.” Caspillo unclasped his hands, and gave the bearded man a little wave that was almost camp. “Greetings, old friend. I like your new beard. Very fetching.”

  The bearded man chuckled, and gave his beard a proud stroke.

  “Greetings, Caspillo. Is this all for me?” He spread his hands wide, even letting them encompass the dragon and her young. “I’m honoured. How have you been?”

  “Never better…sorry, what are you calling yourself these days?”

  The bearded man laughed again, and made a shooing motion with his right hand.

  “Ah, even I can’t keep up. I hope you don’t mind, but it would probably be foolish of me to give you my current name, especially as I fully intend on escaping you once again. I quite like this one, and was intending on keeping it for a while longer. You can use my last one, if you like. Farkas.”

  “Very well, Farkas. What brings you to this neck of the woods? Considering you’re on the run from Stillwater, I’m not sure that turning up to a Stillwater event is a particularly clever thing to do. No offence. ”

  Farkas laughed, and threw an arm around Vykron’s shoulders. He gave the gangster a friendly squeeze.

  “I’m not a fan of life on the run, Caspillo. You know that. How could I resist the opportunity to lure you here and be done with you, once and for all?”

  Caspillo looked left, then right, and shrugged.

  “And you think you’ve brought enough people to do that? Remember what happened the last time you tried to kill me, Farkas? You’re going to need an army, old friend.”

  The bearded man smiled, and pointed over his hunter’s shoulder.

  “Or perhaps just a dragon?”

  “Isn’t that slightly at odds with your new friend’s plans to kill the dragon?”

  Vykron shrugged himself free of Farkas’s arm, and jabbed an angry finger in Caspillo’s direction as he took a step towards him.

  “Enough!” he yelled. “It is of no interest to me why you want this man. He is here because he wants to do business with me. I am in charge here, Caspillo.” He used his other hand to thump his own chest. “These are my men.”

  “Easy there, chap.” Caspillo held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to take the attention away from you. It’s just that, compared to my old friend Farkas, you’re not really very important to me.”

  “I shit on your mother.”

  “I honestly don’t know how to respond to that.”

  “Kill these assholes,” Vykron spat.

  With that, the gangster’s mercenaries split into teams of three, picked their targets, and started advancing towards the water’s edge. Vykron, Farkas and the mage remained where they were. Rima drew back her bowstring and took aim.

  “Be ready, Ben.” Her voice was shaking. Ben didn’t respond. This wasn’t real. He’d come here to watch dragons. He didn’t dare look behind him, but the lack of fire being breathed in their direction suggested they were still blissfully unaware of what was unfolding underneath their very noses. He couldn’t help but wonder how long that would last. Was Rima ever going to take her damn shot?

  As soon as he thought it, she let loose her arrow. The men were closer than Ben had expected she’d let them get. Perhaps she wasn’t c
onfident in her own abilities. Nevertheless, her aim was true. Her arrow sped straight into the face of the rough looking mercenary in the middle of the three man team headed their way. They were no more than twenty feet away, close enough for the power of the shot to halt the man in his tracks and topple him onto his back in the space of a couple of seconds. Ben wanted to scream out Yes but his voice had deserted him. His joy was short-lived; a second later, Rima spun in a half-circle like a ragdoll, knocking him to his knees in the process. She yelled in pain and fear, but for the life of him Ben couldn’t understand why. The remaining two mercenaries hadn’t reached them yet.

  Somehow, Rima managed to stay on her feet. From his vantage point on the very edge of the grass and the rock pool, Ben saw her right hand reach instinctively to her left shoulder. He followed it with his eyes, saw the bolt protruding from just underneath her collarbone, and then heard the offending crossbow thud onto the grass as its wielder abandoned it to draw his sword. Rima was staring down at him. Their eyes met, and time seemed to slow right down. She seemed oblivious as to how close the two mercenaries now were to her unprotected back. The first was already raising his sword over his head in preparation of the killing blow, and the second had finished drawing his from his scabbard.

  “RIMA!” he screamed up at her, and saw what he hoped was a spark of recognition in her eyes. Brow furrowing and jaw setting in perfect synchronicity, the hand on her shoulder dropped to her left hip and grasped the hilt of her sword. Ben dragged his eyes away from hers and looked behind her, head moving a fraction to the left at the same time. The first mercenary’s blade was sweeping down. Ben’s mouth opened to form another scream of warning. Rima finished drawing her sword, reversed it, and took a step back as she thrust it blindly behind her past her right hip. Ben watched as her blade pierced the man’s leather, from the corner of his eye seeing Rima’s face tense at the resistance she met. It was too late to stop the mercenary’s own blade, but Rima’s back was a step closer to him than it had been a second ago and was no longer a viable target. The blade whooshed over her shoulder as his own momentum carried him into her back, impaling himself even further. Almost too late, Ben realised his neck had now become the viable target. Instinctively, he lunged sideways as the blade arrived at the spot he’d just been occupying. Rolling to what he hoped was safety, he leapt back to his feet and reached for his sword.