“He slayed the dragon!”
The shouts soon erupted into cheers of joy and excitement. The villagers jumped for joy, many hugged one another with delight. A figure emerged from the crowd, a priest dressed in long black robes with a wooden cross hanging around his neck. He bowed deeply to Vince. “You have saved us, Sir knight.” The priest spoke. “Long have we prayed to the Almighty to send us a hero, someone who could save us from these fell beasts, and it is clear that He has sent you to aide us.”
“Trust me,” Vince said in a gravely voice, “God had nothing to do with it. I was just passing through. Where ever dragons are, I go. That’s all.”
“You may think so, but we know in our hearts that it was our Father in Heaven that sent you here. We are in your debt, good Sir knight.”
“If we’re talking debts, then gold will suffice. I usually charge for my services, but if I can get a free room at the inn, I’ll be willing to lower my price.” Vince said.
“Yes, yes, of course. Anything you wish.” The priest replied.
Vince and Rennec rode past the priest and back towards the inn, the crowd parted around them. “and also,” Vince glanced over his shoulder, “I’m no knight.”
Chapter 4
A pale, cone-shaped tooth rested between Vince’s thumb and forefinger. He rolled it around in his hand, examining it. Taking a small metal tool, he drilled a hole through the base of the tooth, then pulled the leather string of his necklace through it to add to his collection. “Rennec.”
“Yes, sir?” The boy finished tying off the bag which held the dragon’s head and placed it in the back of the cart.
“Did you get a baring on where the male dragon flew?” Vince slipped the necklace back over his head, the dragon’s teeth rested against his armor breastplate.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Vince took a rag and wiped down his sword. It was still covered with dragon blood and he needed to get it cleaned off as soon as possible before the blade rusted. Once the sword was clean, he sheathed it. “Then we should be on the move again, before that dragon has a chance to escape.”
“So soon, sir?” Rennec asked as he stepped down from the cart. “Shouldn’t we rest? We just got here and haven’t even unpacked for the night.”
“They were a breeding pair, which means there’s a nest.” Vince explained. “And since they were gathering food together, it’s likely those eggs are going to hatch soon. The longer we wait, the less time we have before they do.” He remounted his horse, his feet slipped through he stirrups. “We move immediately.”
“Yes, sir.” Rennec loaded up his gelding with the supplies they’d need. An unlit torch, two pieces of flint, a box of ammunition for the crossbow, and a pair of small axes.
As they were about to leave the village, the town priest and a small number of villagers approached them. The priest waved them down. “Sir knight, wait a moment, please.”
“I told you, I am not a knight.” Vince said.
“Some of the men wish to join you on the hunt.” The priest motioned to the men behind him. All peasant farmers, most holding pitchforks or axes. “Their homes and families have been destroyed by the dragons, will you allow them to go with?”
“Please, mister dragon slayer. We want that monster dead more than anything. Please, let us go with you.” One of the farmer’s, a peasant boy no older than Rennec, begged.
Vince closed his eyes. He recognized the desperation on their faces, as he had seen it many times before. It was the same look Rennec gave him after a dragon burned down his home and made him an orphan, and the same look Vince once had himself.
“I know the grief that you feel,” he said, “but I can’t let you follow me. This is not a simple hunt for deer or boar, or even bear. This is a dragon, and when hunting dragons even the most experienced don’t always escape unscathed.” He traced a finger down a scar on his face. The scar began above his right eyebrow, curved around his eye, cut through his cheek, followed the jaw line, and finally came to an end all the way at the cleft of his chin.
“Then,” the priest clasped his hands together. “At least allow us to pray for your safety.”
“I’m sure God has His uses.” Vince said. “But killing dragons is one of mine. Let’s go, Rennec.” He snapped the reins and gave a kick. His horse trotted forward.
Vince and Rennec rode side by side in silence up the rocky mountain trail. After a while, the trail ended and they took the horses onto more uneven terrain. Eventually, even that was too much for them and they had to dismount and continue on foot.
As they rode, and later hiked, up the gravely slopes, the faces of the villagers continued to linger in Vince’s mind. The deep set eyes, scraggly faces, unkempt beards. The sorrow that flowed out from those eyes, and deeper than that was rage. Rage at the dragons, or rage at the Creator for sending the dragon.
Vince didn’t believe that any Creator sent these beasts. To him, it was just a monster that needed to be exterminated. He traced his finger along the scar over his face again, a permanent reminder of his first encounter with a dragon.
“I can see a cave, sir.” Rennec’s voice alerted him.
They crawled up behind a pair of large rocks, Vince pressed his back against one and reloaded the crossbow. He peeked around the edge of the jagged rock to see the dark cavern stretching back into the mountain. “Rennec,” Vince said, his voice barely over a hushed whisper, “stay low and wait out here for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Just as Vince stood and began his advance towards the cave, the male dragon appeared. It came charging out, wings fully stretched. Vince barely had time to duck as the dragon took off. It leapt into the air, causing a gust of wind from its wings. Vince spun around and came to a crouched stance, one knee planted in the earth, and he fired a bolt at the fleeing dragon.
He missed. The dragon did not turn back to fight, nor did it head towards the village. Instead, it veered off to the east. By the time Vince had the crossbow notched back into place, the dragon was out of range.
Vince dusted himself off as he stood. He unlatched the bowstring, swung the crossbow over his shoulder, and signaled for Rennec to emerge.
“What happened, sir?” Rennec asked.
“I cannot say. I guess it knew we were coming and chose to abandon its home rather than face us.” Vince placed his hand on Rennec’s shoulder. “You did well, today. You followed his trail and lead me to him excellently. Your tracking skills have improved.” He gave a smile, one Rennec gladly returned. Vince then motioned to the cave. “Come along, we still have a job to do.”
Rennec took the torch and lit it with the flint. He handed it to Vince, who then proceeded into the cavern. With the flaming branch held out before him, the dragon slayer drew his sword .
Together, they walked down the dark passage of the cave until they came to the end chamber. Inside, they found a cone-shaped pile of stones with sticks and leaves burning around it. Inside the pile of rocks there sat two eggs, each as large as a horse’s head. A dragon’s nest.
Rennec starred awestruck at the glowing rock pile. This was the first time he had ever seen a dragon nest. “Why do they burn their eggs?”
“Dragons can’t sit on eggs like birds. They pile up the rock and breath fire on them to keep them warm.” Vince explained. “Temperature determines whether a dragon hatchling is male or female. Hotter for males, colder for females.”
“What are we going to do with them?” Rennec asked.
Vince handed the torch over to his apprentice. Then, with grim determination, he kicked the nest. Rocks tumbled to the side and the eggs rolled out onto the cold cave floor. The dragon slayer sheathed his sword, knelt down beside the first egg, then grabbed one of the larger base rocks with his gloved hands and lifted it over his head. “We smash them.” He brought the rock down hard on the egg. The shell shattered.
Chapter 5
D ennis was a young lad, only thirteen years old, but stronger than other boys a
s old as sixteen. His father died when he was only nine and left him as the man in his family’s house. The boy was no farmer, and had no skills as a masonry worker or craftsman.
What he was good at was hunting. Before his father died, the two of them went on hunting trips together and Dennis was taught how to kill a deer with a bow, and also how to skin it, tan the hide, and prepare the meat. Through this skill as a hunter and fur trader, he was able to feed his mother and sister.
It was here that he found himself trudging through the woods in ankle deep snow. Each time he took a step he had to yank his foot from the snow only to have it sink back down in front of him. He was layered in animal furs to keep warm and had a quiver of arrows slung across his back.
He held his father’s bow out before him, just in case he found something. For a while now he’d been following the trail of a deer. It was a young deer by the shapes of the hooves, maybe a buck just after shedding its first set of antlers.
Dennis soon came upon the deer. He watched it from a little less than a hundred yards away as the buck nibbled at the beech nuts of low branches.
Hiding behind a tree, Dennis drew an arrow from the quiver and latched the end into the bowstring. This wasn’t the largest deer he’d killed out here, but it would bring food for a while and he could sell the skin. He peeked around the tree trunk and lined up his shot.
He released his grip on the taunt string. The arrow launched forward, struck the deer through the ribs, and pierced the heart.
The buck jumped in the air, its legs flailed sporadically before they caught under its body and it took off running. Dennis watched as it sprang through the trees. There was no need to chase it, that was a kill shot. All he needed to do was follow the trail of blood left in the snow.
Less than twenty-five yards from where he shot it, Dennis found the deer’s body. It lay motionless in the snow which had turned red from its blood. Dennis felt an immense sense of pride within himself. There was always a level of joy after a successful hunt, an accomplishment and satisfaction that he was a man, even if he was much younger than his fellows.
He unstrung his bow, slipped it into the quiver along with the used arrow, then, with his greater than average for his age strength, lifted the deer’s body across his shoulders. The going was slower than before, but he was headed for home with his prize.
A shadow passed over him. He stopped dead in his tracks, the deer weighed heavily on his back. There was a whoosh as the shadow flew over again. He watched as the dark shape circled around him, growing larger.
Dennis’ fear grew as did the shadow. He slowly tilted his head back as far it he could and shifted his eyes for the sky. That’s when he saw it. The dragon.
***
The female dragon had been surveying her territory for prey, as she did most everyday. She’d spotted the young buck and was preparing to attack it when the animal was instead struck down by the human hunter. At least now she knew why food was harder to find out here.
Scavenging was not unusual for a dragon. If need be, she would scare off a bear or a pack of wolves from a kill. This would be no different than that.
She swooped down upon the human, her claws were outstretched and teeth bared. Her roar was ear splitting. The human boy screamed, although neither he nor the dragon could hear his voice over the roar. He threw himself to the ground and covered his head with both hands, shivering in terror.
The dragon banked with her powerful wings, the wake kicked up a cloud of snow around her. She landed over the human boy cowering below her, her feet planted in the snow on both sides of his body. She had no real interest in him, she merely wanted the animal draped over his back.
Her jaws latched tightly around the deer carcass, bones snapped under the pressure. She lifted it with ease off the boy. Then flared her wings and took off again, heading back to her cave.
***
Dennis lay face down in the snow, his fingers laced together behind his head, as he waited for the dragon to attack. His heart raced, and although he wasn’t trying to, he wept like a child. He’d heard the stories after all; a monstrous dragon would fly down and kill a man in a heartbeat, strike him down with one swing of its claws, or maybe burn him alive in fire.
But nothing happened. Instead, all he felt was the weight of the deer lift off his back, followed by the beating of the dragon’s wings as it flew away with his family’s food.
As the wing beats grew fainter, Dennis slowly unlaced his fingers and looked up. He saw the footprints deep in the snow from were the dragon had stood, and looking over his shoulder he saw the creature itself as it flew away, but he was unharmed.
It must have been a sign. God had been watching him and made the beast leave, that was the only explanation. God wanted him to live, to warn the rest of his village about this monster on their doorstep.
With a new sense of urgency, Dennis pushed himself up and started to run as fast as he could. His legs burned and lungs aches as he plowed through the snow, but he trudged on. He had to reach his village, he had to warn Sir Ardose.
He soon spotted the village. As he approached, he saw a lone man on a horse. He soon saw it was Sir Ardose himself. He came running up, waving his arms over his head and shouting. “Sir! Sir! My lord!”
Ardose saw the young man coming towards him and halted his horse. The boy’s run slowed to a slow jog and finally stopped completely as he came up next to the knight. Dennis, exhausted from his run, doubled over with his hands placed on his knees, and breath forming clouds around his face.
“You have something important, child?” Ardose said. “I have an appointment to keep and only a day to travel, I don’t have long to talk.”
“My lord,” Dennis sputtered between gasps, “I’ve . . . just been . . . attacked . . . by a dragon.”
Sir Ardose’s eyebrow perked up. His interest and concerns were piqued. “A dragon, you say?” He said, his hands rung the reins of his horse. “Where did this happen?”
“In the woods. Just off to the north that way.” Dennis pointed back at the trench through the snow he’d just made. “I was hunting when it came down out of the sky and attacked me.”
“Show me where.” Sir Ardose demanded.
“Yes, my lord.” Dennis said. “Do you mean right now?”
“Of course I do.” Ardose snapped the reins and turned the horse towards the forest. “Lead on, boy.”
Dennis’ heart began to swell. Not only had he escaped the wrath of a fire-breathing dragon, but now he had been ordered by the lord of his village to lead a quest against this monster.
Maybe, he though, Ardose might make him a page for his services, and maybe even eventually a new squire. Sir Ardose’s current squire, Richard, was most certainly old enough and skilled enough to be knighted himself, and if Dennis was made an apprentice to the local lord, then all the problems his family faced would be gone. His mother and sister would always have warm clothes and plenty of food on the table during the cold winters.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he found himself upon the site of his encounter before he realized it. Dennis looked down on the depression in the snow where he had once lain, and the deep footprints left by the dragon. “Here it happened, sir.” Dennis said. “I was laying right here and the beast stood over me.”
“Yes, I see.” Ardose dismounted his horse. He knelt by the impressions in the snow, his hand rested on his chin. “And the creature did you no harm?”
“It tried, sir.” Dennis said. The embellishment part of his young boy mind was starting to get the better of him. “I had my father’s arrows with me and as it tried to attack, I pulled one out and stabbed at its face. The monster never saw it coming.”
“No, I suppose it didn’t.” Ardose said. Dennis never had time to notice the knife in Ardose's hand before it plunged into his back.
Chapter 6
R ichard stared up at the steeple of the church. In this small village, the church was the largest single structure, capable of housing
potentially everyone in the village. The base was built of stone held together with mortar, while everything above the doors was made of wood. The bell rang out from the tower overhead. Today was not service, but still Richard had a strong conviction to go inside.
With a heavy sigh, he entered. While snow was falling outside, the inside of the church was warm. The pews were lined along the sides to
face the podium at the front. Candles were alight, casting their faint warm glow throughout the chapel.
Stained-glass windows lined the walls, depicting images of the saints and of the virgin Mary. One window that caught Richard’s attention immediately was of a knight on horseback, dressed in full armor, stabbing a lance into the heart of a dragon.
To one side of building was the confessional booth. That was Richard’s destination. He stepped up to it, rested his knees on the bench, and made the sign of the cross over his chest. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”
“The Lord is with thee, child.” The voice of the priest came from the other side of the curtain. “Confess your sins and they shall be forgiven.”
“I am in doubt, Father. I have been asked to keep a secret, but I do not know that I can.”
“What secret, my child?” The priest asked.
Richard explained. “I saw something the other day, and my lord, Sir Ardose, asked that I keep it a secret from the rest of the village. I don’t know why he’s asked this of me. Father, if someone asked you to keep a deep secret, would you be able to?”
The priest’s voice came from behind the curtain again. “My child, you are young. People come to me with their sins, and regardless of what those sins are, once they are confessed with a broken heart and a broken spirit, the Lord forgives them and remembers no more. I am asked to keep secrets all the time.”
The Last Stand of the Dragon Page 3