Dragon's Eye

by Christopher Stasheff

  Blackness struck.

  Ermenagarde lowered her bow. The range was close, no more than twenty paces, but she'd never expected to strike so well. Karl von Obersberg stood like a statue with his sword raised and the arrow quivering in the base of his skull. His victory shout was still echoing as he toppled forward rigid as a tree and splashed down on the stones. His sword rang and sparked on river stones.

  "Father!" Gudrun called, running forward and kneeling by the Wurm's head. "Father! Are you all right?"

  The huge scaly muzzled moved feebly, and one fore-limb pawed the air.

  More practical, Ermenagarde looked around for the warhorse. Trained war steeds were the most valuable part of a knight's plunder, if the most difficult to sell, and Lord Widukind had a deplorable tendency to devour them if not reminded. The beast had retreated a hundred paces or so; she advanced slowly, with soothing words. The horse had had time to grow used to her voice, and to the taint of magic that hung about her. She got within arm's reach, took up the reins, and looped them firmly about an oak limb.

  Gudrun's scream brought her about. Her eyes widened as she dashed to the other woman's side. The Wurm—Lord Widukind—was . . .

  Molting, she thought in amazement.

  The armor of brazen scales dropped from his sides like rain, plashing into the water like rain or tinkling on the rocks, then dissolving into dust. Steel bone and stony flesh melted, like sand in the purling water. Wriggling out of the mass, like a snake out of last year's skin, came . . . a man. A man she had not seen since she was an infant; not since the night they fled from a burning hold and the swords of the Franks.

  "Father," Gudrun wept. "Father."

  Lord Widukind, last overlord of the Saxons, staggered to his feet and stood with the water rippling around his bare knees. He was tall and fair-haired, with the massive scarred body of a fighting man of seven-and-thirty years. One arm hung limp, and a wound gouged up the side of his face to take his left eye, but he smiled—grinned and shouted for joy:

  "The curse is broken!" He embraced his daughter with his good arm. "And Gudrun—I see you with a man's eyes, a father's eyes." He looked around in wonder. "How different the world is . . ." Down at himself. "I'm older. Well-a-day, that comes to us all."

  Ermenagarde slung her bow and knelt, heedless of the water. "My lord," she said, breathless. "My lord."

  Widukind raised her. With one hand he parted the silver collar about her neck. "Keep this as a gift," he said, handing it to her. "For your loyalty."

  He looked down and pulled the dead knight onto his back. The face held no pain, only a look of transcendent happiness. "I know this man," he said slowly. "Not his name or his deeds, but I know him. Somewhere—"

  "His name was Karl von Obersberg," Ermenagarde said.

  Widukind shook his head. "I curse you until the circle is broken," he quoted softly. "So the priest said. Hengst said the magic could be turned on itself, but only when the two were one. He was the one I taught at the last battle, when the temple burned."

  The three looked down on the body. Widukind spoke at last. "Come. We will give him burial; he was a brave man, and a great warrior. And we will splint this arm, and rest before we go north."

  "North?" Gudrun asked, wiping at the tears of joy on her cheeks.

  "To the Dane king's court," Widukind said, wincing. The pain of his wounds was returning. "We won't lack for a welcome, with the gifts we bring."

  Ermenagarde trudged through the water to retrieve the fallen knight's sword. Twenty-seven swords, she thought. Mostly with full sets of armor to accompany them, and other gear besides—a fair number of knights had passed by over the years, and few had been able to resist her story of Gudrun's looks.

  "I'll cut the splint," she said, and headed for the woods.

  TO KILL A DRAGON

  by Teresa Patterson

  There was a dragon terrorizing the barony of Bryngallad. The best archers and fighters in all the barony had tried to kill it, and had failed to even drive it away. The foul creature was burning crops, destroying villages, slaughtering livestock, and wreaking general havoc upon the land. Faced with the failure of his own forces, Baron Alemandus was forced to admit that defeating a rampaging dragon was well beyond the scope of his abilities. He finally sent a messenger to the king for help.

  When the messenger returned, heralding the arrival of the requested aid, His Excellency Baron Alemandus of Cambrea rushed to don his best finery. Arrayed in his favorite gold brocade surcoat, with an ornate jeweled coronet adorning his salt-and-pepper mane, Alemandus entered the tapestry-covered expanse of the audience hall prepared to greet at least a full company of knights and royal archers. Instead he found himself facing a young, slightly travel-worn knight and his squire.

  "You are to be my dragonslayer?" Alemandus could not keep the contempt and disappointment from his voice as he surveyed the slender dark-haired knight. "But you are only one knight."

  "Forgive me, Your Excellency, but it was my understanding that there was only one dragon." The young man answered smoothly, the hint of a smile on his lips. He was used to people underestimating him. "His majesty would not have sent me if he did not believe me well able to serve you."

  "You honestly believe you can take on this dragon when all the baronial forces have failed?"

  The knight bowed low before the baron, moving with a muscular grace which belied his bedraggled appearance. "I am Sir Cedric de Chavoney, Knight of the Order of the Ruby, holder of the King's Gauntlet, from his Majesty's personal guard." Cedric kissed the baronial ruby signet ring, determined to maintain some semblance of proper courtesy, even if his superior did not. "And I do not truly know whether I can defeat your dragon, as I have never had cause to fight one. But I do know that I am sworn to serve you as I would my liege . . ." his dark eyes raised to meet the Baron's, pinning him with their intensity, "or die in the attempt."

  Alemandus' eyebrows rose at the mention of the Order of the Ruby, the most prestigious of the knightly disciplines. King Inman had indeed sent him one of his best, even if the handsome man before him looked far too young to have garnered such honors. '"Well, my boy, for all our sakes I hope it does not come to that. In the name of the king I accept your service." The knight bowed his acknowledgement, then stood, futilely brushing at the trail dust that stained his deerskin jerkin. "But for now, let me show you the legendary hospitality of Bryngallad. My steward will show you to your chambers. Then you will join us at the feast table."

  Bathed and dressed in a clean tunic and green velvet surcoat, Cedric looked and felt much more the image of a proper courtly knight. He found the supper of beef, dark bread, and cheese to be quite filling, though not as elaborate as most baronial feasts. Still, the ale was superb and hinted at a quality well beyond that of the simple repast. And the baron, in his glittering finery, was just as pompous and arrogant as Inman had warned.

  "I must beg your pardon for the meager quality of our feast these days." The baron spoke in between healthy draughts of ale from his jeweled flagon. "The dragon has left us little fresh meat and even less grain. I do not wish to think on the state of affairs if our larders had not been well stocked before this rampage."

  "How many people have you lost?"

  "No deaths so far. Providence has at least smiled on us in that regard. But far too many have been sorely wounded trying to bring that foul creature down. Whole villages have been burned by its scorching breath. It is only a matter of time before our luck runs out and the deaths begin. As it is, the winter will go very hard on the entire barony with so little food and shelter. Unless, of course, you can destroy the beast."

  Cedric nodded absently, a frown creasing his brow. This creature was not the only dragon in the kingdom, to be sure, but he had never before heard of a dragon actually attacking a village, much less making war on an entire barony. Even the studies he had done before undertaking this quest had indicated that most dragons preferred to keep to themselves unless harassed or attacked. Some schol
ars even believed them to be quite intelligent. Cedric had doubts about that, but he wondered what would make a dragon go berserk.

  "Forgive me, Excellency, but do you have any idea what might have caused the dragon to begin these attacks?"

  "Cause? What cause does it need? It's a dragon, by God!" Alemandus slammed his goblet on the table for emphasis, drawing the immediate attention of the other lords and ladies of his house.

  The baroness, silent till now, glared at her husband. "Mandus, how do you expect this brave young man to succeed if you do not warn him about the dark sorcery?"

  "Sorcery?" Cedric's goblet froze midway to his face. His dark eyes locked with the baron's grey ones. "There was no mention of sorcery in your message."

  Dropping his eyes, Alemandus seemed to visibly deflate. The matronly baroness patted him on the arm reassuringly, a silvered curl escaping from her veil. "He still finds it difficult to talk about." she began. "Years ago an evil mage ensorcelled our daughter. We have reason to think that that same mage may be responsible for the attacks from the dragon "

  ". . . But we have no proof." the baron finished, recovering his composure.

  Cedric's stomach knotted at the thought of facing magic, especially that powerful enough to coerce a dragon. He had given his word of honor to his king, but what good was a strong sword arm against magic? "What else did you neglect to put in your message, your Excellency?" He made the title a frozen curse.

  Any answer was drowned by the blare of mighty war horns.

  "It's the dragon!" the baroness cried, her rosy face gone pale.

  The steward and several men at arms burst into the hall. "Excellency, it's in the courtyard!"

  "It's after the cattle! We put them there to keep them safe. To arms! At once!" The baron raced out of the hall with Cedric close on his heels. Cedric's squire met them in the entry hall carrying bow, sword, and shield.

  "Shall I get your armor?"

  "No, Jason. There is no time." Cedric hurriedly strung his bow. If the dragon was here, perhaps he could dispose of it quickly. Alemandus cautiously opened the large carved wooden doors.

  In the courtyard all was bedlam. Terrorized cattle charged blindly through the confined space, trampling anything that got in their way. At first Cedric could see little but dust and frightened animals. A man, racing to escape the melee, stumbled and fell just short of the doorway. Cedric grabbed him and pulled him to safety, barely missing being trampled himself. He choked on the thick dust as he helped the man to his feet.

  "Open the gates! Let the cattle out before they trample us all!" Someone understood enough to start the huge portcullis moving upward.

  The war horns sounded again, but were drowned out by an unearthly wail. A shadow loomed over the yard, followed by a plummeting shape as something large swooped from the sky. Cedric watched in amazement as the creature flashed earthward. It struck a bellowing bull with force enough to snap its spine. With this prize clutched beneath its claws, the creature turned to face them, screaming in triumph, its cry echoing off the stone walls of the yard. Cedric's breathing stilled as it unfurled gleaming wings, arching a graceful neck to glare with seeming insolence at the helpless armsmen. It was definitely a dragon. And it was magnificent!

  Iridescent blue-green scales glittered over rippling muscles as it tore into the dead bull. Deep green eyes glowed like jewels on a wide-browed face tapering to an elegant, deadly jaw. Cedric imagined that those jewel eyes were gazing directly at him, pulling him into their depths.

  "We can't get at it past the cattle. Use your bow!" Alemandus was shaking him excitedly. "You'll never get a better shot than this!" The blood smell had crazed the remaining cattle. They battered themselves against the stone struggling to force their way through the gate.

  Belatedly, Cedric remembered the war bow he held.

  Shaking himself free of the dragon's spell he quickly chose a barbed broadhead from his quiver and nocked it. As he drew the powerful bow and sighted, he felt a moments regret for the destruction of such a creature. But he was a knight sworn to his duty. He released the arrow.

  The shaft streaked true towards its mark, but the dragon was no longer there. Puzzled, Cedric nocked another arrow, aiming more carefully. Again the arrow sped towards its mark, but the dragon was faster still; moving like quicksilver it avoided the deadly barbs. Cedric tried a third and fourth arrow, with the same result.

  An eerie, almost human cry issued from the dragon as it tossed its head, negligently snapping at the last of the cattle as they struggled to leave the yard. Cedric imagined it was laughing at him.

  "Jason, my sword."

  "But your armor!" The red-haired youth gestured at Cedric's courtly dress in dismay.

  "There's no time." Cedric took his sword and shield and joined the ranks of mail-clad armsmen converging on the feasting dragon. "On my signal. We'll all go in together. It's our only chance!" The armsmen nodded and spread out, careful to stay clear of dragon teeth and claws. Cedric waited until it lowered its head to feed, then signaled.

  Moving as one, the armsmen converged on the dragon, only to be met by fiery breath and slashing claws. Cedric deflected a gout of flame with his shield. Cringing under the intense heat and the acrid smell of his own singed hair, he struggled to get close enough to use his sword. Sunlight sparkled off something fastened around the dragon's neck, drawing his notice. A jewel? A collar? What would a dragon need with such a thing?

  The man to his right struck at the creature's face in an attempt to blind it. One sinuous movement of the elegant head easily deflected the blow. Snapping jaws and a second motion disarmed the man and sent him sprawling. Cedric used the momentary distraction as an opening. He drove forward with his sword, his attack focused on the jewel suspended around its vulnerable throat.

  Before he could strike, something slammed into him. There was only a blur of shining blue-scaled tail; then he was flying through the air to slam head first into the stonework like a rag doll.

  He awakened in his room to see the baroness and several lovely young ladies hovering over him. For a moment, he thought that such a pleasant sight might even be worth a few bruises. Then he made an attempt to sit and was forced to revise that idea. Sore ribs, a dizzy, throbbing head, and bruised muscles all clamored for equal attention. Even his stomach threatened to revolt from the abuse. With a groan he gave up and collapsed back onto the bed, closing his eyes against the jig his room seemed determined to perform. His hands groped towards his aching skull to find it swathed in bandages. Somewhere beneath those bandages a blacksmith with a very large hammer was trying to reshape his brain.

  "Perhaps next time, my lord, you will not be so hasty to rush into battle without your armor."

  With effort, Cedric opened his eyes to find the source of the familiar voice. He finally spotted his squire at the foot of the bed, a smug look on his face and a lady on each arm.

  "And what are you so cheerful about?"

  "I'm just glad you didn't get your fool head completely removed."

  "The way it's throbbing I'm not completely certain it wasn't removed." The ladies laughed, pleased that their handsome charge appeared to be recovering at least his sense of humor.

  "You know, if you had worn your armor you probably would not be hurt at all."

  "Are you determined to rub it in? Perhaps I should be your squire, 'Sir Jason.' " The young man grinned mischievously back at him.

  "Besides, look what lovely nursemaids I would have missed." Another set of delighted giggles issued from the ladies. He forced a brilliant smile for their benefit as his squire escorted the lot of them to the outer chamber.

  The fake smile dissolved into a sigh of relief as Jason returned. He enjoyed the ladies as much as the next man, but only in small doses. "Speaking of casualties—how many?"

  "Six dead and twelve wounded."

  "All by the dragon?"

  "No. All the dead were trampled by the livestock. Yours was the worst of the wounds actually inflicted by the
dragon. No one else tried to bounce their skull off the castle wall. Most of the other injuries were bruises, broken bones, and a few burns."

  Cedric's brow creased in a thoughtful frown. "And yet the creature could have killed us as easily as it broke that bull."

  "All jests aside, my lord, you very nearly were killed. The chirurgeon is quite concerned with the hole in your head, although I did assure him that it was the most impervious part of your body, and has said that you will require at least a fortnight's rest."

  "Devil take the chirurgeon! Jason, find my clothes, I must see the baron."

  At Jason's call, the ladies scurried back into the room to restrain their wounded knight. Between the pounding in his head and the insistence of the ladies, Cedric grudgingly allowed himself to be convinced to remain abed while the baron was summoned. Carefully propped up with soft furs, he felt very foolish giving audience to a noble of higher rank. Fortunately the baron, perching himself on a bedside stool, did not seem to mind.

  "So, my lad, how are you feeling?"

  Cedric winced. The difference in years between himself and Alemandus was far fewer than the baron seemed to think. "Quite well, Excellency, for someone who has lost a fight with a dragon."

  "Well, it was to be expected. After all, you are only one man." The baron's condescending smile grated. "Perhaps now the king will send more knights. At least your quest has ended."

  "I . . ." Cedric tried to control the edge in his voice, "have barely begun my quest. But you could begin by telling me about the sorcery you almost forgot to mention. Perhaps then I will know why a wild dragon wears a jeweled pendant about its neck? And why that same dragon easily kills livestock, but does little damage to its human attackers? If there is magic involved, I need to know everything."

  "All I want is someone to put an end to that dragon."