Richard nodded.
“Sir Ardose has asked you this important thing. Whether you share that with me is not important.” The priest continued. “He is your lord, and he has asked this of you. You must have faith in his wisdom. Do you understand?”
He understood, but Richard was not reassured by the priests words. Some part of him wanted to be told otherwise, that he needed to inform the people of the potential danger. He’d hoped the priest would give him instruction to follow his own instincts. “I hear you, Father.”
“Your sins are forgiven. Go forth and sin no more.”
Richard stood up from the confessional. As he walked back towards the door, he glanced at the windows one more time. His eyes fixed on the one of the knight and dragon. As he stared at the dragon, the lance piercing through its chest and red blood pouring out, Richard could almost hear the whinnying of the horse, the clatter of the knight’s armor, and the roars of the dragon.
He shuddered, pulled his coat tighter, and stepped out into the cold. As he walked through the village, small flakes of snow falling from the clouds which blanketed the sky, he looked by up at the mountain. It had been three days since he glimpsed the dragon, and since then nothing has happened. No sightings, no reports, nothing. Perhaps Sir Ardose was right. The dragon, or whatever it was he saw that day, was likely long gone by now, if it was even there to begin with.
In any case, this was not for him to worry about. He was only a squire, after all, not a lord or knight. Should the day come when Sir Ardose saw fit to knight him, then he could worry about the possible dangers of flying fire-breathers.
Sir Ardose, however, was away visiting with his family in another township many miles away. Richard didn’t know how long he would be gone, but the point remained that Ardose has left the village and Richard did not know when he would return.
The more Richard thought, the more anxious be became. What he really needed right now was something to calm his nerves, and he knew the best place to do that.
He came to the local tavern. A sign hung above the door which creaked on its rusted hinges as the wind blew. It read, The Roaring Lion. He pushed the door open and a wave of heat flooded out to greet him. A fire burned and roared in the fireplace, it cast its dim, warm light across the room. People sat around the many circular tables talking and laughing. Some folks drank ale, others had beer, a few had wine, whatever their hearts content.
Richard closed the door tightly behind him, listening for it to latched shut. He pulled his wolf-skin coat off and placed it on the rack by the door.
The bartender, Abel, stood behind the counter with a rag in his hand as he wiped down the glasses. He was a short man, balding on top and round in the middle, but with a friendly face. When he was Richard by the door, he set the glass down and waved, a huge smile across his face. “Richard! Come on over.”
Richard did as he was beckoned. He set himself down at the counter, his elbows rested on the wood surface. “Hi, Abel.”
“Boy, how you doing? I haven’t seen you in a while.” Abel filled a glass halfway with ale from one of the five wood barrels behind the counter. He set it down at Richard’s hands.
“I haven’t been feeling so well, actually.” Richard pushed the glass back. “If you could, can you fill that up all the way? I have a lot on my mind right now.”
“All the way?” Abel took back the glass and filled it to the top. “That’s a whole pint, I’ve never known you to drink more than a half at a time.”
“Again, I have a lot to think about.” Richard Took the mug of ale and pressed the rim to his lips. He drank half of it at once before setting the glass back down. “I can never figure out how this stuff tastes so bad and yet so good at the same time.”
“That would be my little secret.” Abel replied.
A loud crash caught Richard’s attention. He turned around and saw one of the local farmers, Phillip, laying on his back, drenched from head to toe in beer. He’d just been joking and laughing with another farmer, William, when he’d leaned too far back and fell over.
Everyone in the tavern starred at him in silence just before erupting in a chorus of laughter. Phillip rolled away from his chair and crawled around on his hands and knees. Drunk and blind as a bat, his hand eventually found the now empty mug of beer with draggles of yellowish foam still clinging to it. He held it up over his head. “Hey, barman!” He shouted. “Pour me another!” His words slurred lazily together.
Abel leaned on the counter and shot an annoyed look at the poor fellow on his floor. “I think you’ve had too much already, Phil.”
Phillip did not listen. The sounds of his snoring was too loud. He had fallen into an alcohol induced sleep, drool oozed from his mouth. Richard sighed and shook his head. “Now he’s drooling all over the floor.”
“I’m just grateful it’s only drool this time.” Abel said with a smile. “I hope his wife’s coming to get him, because I’m not carrying him home again.” He grabbed the towel again and began to wipe down the counter. “Hey, Richard, I don’t suppose you know how long Sir Ardose will be away.”
Richard shook his head. “He didn’t tell me exactly. Up to a month. Just visiting the family, I guess.”
Abel nodded with agreement. “That’s always a nice thing to do.”
Chapter 7
E ven as Richard and Abel talked about him, Ardose rode his horse through the streets of the nearby township. He had family that did indeed live in this town, but that was not the only reason he was here, not was it the most important one. At least, not anymore.
When he left the village three days ago, his only plan was to visit with his sister and her husband and children, but when that peasant boy (Ardose had to think hard to remember his name was Dennis) approached him on his way out of town, the plans changed.
Ardose believed Richard’s story about the dragon, but also thought it likely had moved on. So when the peasant boy came to him with claims of encountering it up close, Ardose knew that would not be leaving anytime soon. Armed with this knowledge, he began to formulate a plan in his mind.
Sir Nathaniel Ardose was the third born son of a lower noble and had been knighted at the young age of seventeen. He inherited one small portion of his father’s lands. As a boy he’d always envied the status and wealth of a knight, and all the power and nobility that came with it, and the adventures that knights got to partake in. He wished to travel and go on quests for treasure or a glorious fight with trolls or ogres, whatever monsters he could imagine. When his father died and he received his knighthood, he envisioned all the glory that would come with it.
What he didn’t expect, however, was all the responsibilities that also came with being a knight. All the times he had to answer to other lords of greater status than himself, and every time he needed to sort out a dispute between the peasants that lived on his land. He spent less time jousting or fighting and more time squalling at those lesser than himself. His position had brought him nothing but grief, deeper wrinkles and grayer hair. Long gone were the days when he dreamed of adventure.
But now with the dragon, he saw a chance to escape it all. And that was why he stabbed the peasant boy in the back and left him to die in the snow. His plan required that the dragon remained a secret for as long as possible. So he couldn’t have that boy going around town telling everyone what he’d seen.
Ardose dismounted his horse when he arrived at his destination. This was the real reason he came to this township, a figure legendary for his dragon slaying abilities. Cain.
He tied his horse to a post and stepped inside the small hut shaped building. Inside was a large room lit only by the light of a single candle, which itself stood on the corner of a single desk. The flame flickered as the wind rushed in from outside. The desk was covered with piles of paper.
A solitary figure sat behind the desk with a feather quill pen between his long, bony fingers. The quill moved rapidly across the page, a trail of ink left in its wake. Thin, stringy hair lay atop
the figure’s otherwise bald head. Ardose slammed the door shut behind, and the figure’s head jolted up.
For the first time, Ardose saw the man’s face. His skin was thin and taunt, like it was pulled tight against his skull. His cheekbones jutted out from under his eyes, and his brows dipped in the center as if he was giving a permanent glare. His icy-blue eyes starred intensely back in the darkness. When Ardose saw those eyes, a shiver ran up his spine. “Are you Cain?”
“What do you want?” The man in the dark growled. His voice as deep and gravely as a bone bed.
Ardose cleared his throat. “Oh, nothing . Probably nothing of much important to a man like yourself.”
“Then, if you don’t mind, kindly leave me to my peace. I wish to rot in silence.” Cain grumbled. His eyes never left Ardose.
Those eyes, something about them just did not sit well with Ardose. Cold and merciless, the only thing he saw in Cain’s eyes was evil. Still, he was here for a reason.
“The truth of the matter is I’m looking to hire someone. I have a job needs doing for someone with particular skills. Skills, I am told, you possess.” Ardose said. “Perhaps, a dragon that needs slaying?”
Cain placed the feather quill down and laced his long, knobby fingers together. “I’m listening.”
“Good.” Ardose stepped deeper into the dark room. “But, before I tell you anything else, I want to make a deal with you.”
“What kind of deal?” Cain asked, he lifted a single eyebrow in concern. “Do you want a cut of the fee? That won’t happen.” He looked away from Ardose, grabbed the pen and continued writing. “I’d rather watch your precious village burn then give you any gold.”
Ardose let out a small chuckle. “As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I want.”
Cain’s pen stopped mid-sentence. A black spot of ink formed on the page. His eyes shifted back to the knight. “Excuse me? I’m not sure I heard that right.”
Ardose walked up to the desk and placed both his hands down firmly. “It’s true, I want that dragon slain, just as any rational man would. But, not before it turns that speck of a village to ash.”
Cain pushed himself up from the chair. His face was illuminated from below by the dim light of the candle casting shadows over his eyes. “That’s one of the more unusual requests I’ve heard. May I ask why?”
“Because I want out.” Ardose said. “I don’t want to be their warden anymore. Those thankless peasants always come to me with all their petty squabbles and disjointed lives. I’m sick of it. I’d much rather be an adventurer, go out on my horse and never look back, maybe be a mercenary. But the image of honor prevents me from just leaving.”
“If you want to go on adventures and live a life of freedom, why not just slay the dragon yourself?” Cain snidely replied.
“I need a man with experience.” Ardose said. “And besides, if I’m to leave that ash pile once it’s all over, I’ll need plenty of coin in my purse.”
“I see. So you do want a cut.” Cain set himself back down and took up the pen. “If you’re here trying to worm some money out of me, then who’s back with your precious sheep to make sure they don’t get eaten before you can sentence them to death?”
“My squire is there. He’s rather skilled with a sword, I trained him myself.” Ardose said. “Besides, we can fleece that flock of sheep of every coin they have. It’s far more than your usual rate, even split in half between us. You have much to gain from this venture.”
Cain leaned back in the chair, his pointed fingernail scratched at the wooden surface of his desk.
This knight was a sly little rat he had before him, and not exactly a stupid one. If Cain had a choice, he’d rather make dealings with a clever trickster than an honest fool. “Very well. I can play along with your schemes,” he finally spoke, “has anyone other than you or your squire witnessed the beast firsthand?”
“Only a peasant boy, but he won’t be telling anyone else.” Ardose replied.
“And why is that?”
“It’s difficult to talk when you have a knife in your back.”
A grin crept across Cain’s face as he stared at Ardose. That grin made the hair on the back of Ardose’s neck stand on end. In the dimly lit room, that smile combined with his bony face, deep set eyes, jutting cheek bones, and dipping brow gave Cain the appearance of a monster. Like he was the devil himself. It send a shiver running down the length of Ardose’s spin and for a moment, he wondered what exactly he was getting into.
“I guess I can consider your plan.” Cain finally said. “However, you’ll need to wait. The dragon must reveal itself to the people. Once it does, then the people will be willing to pay virtually anything to be rid of it.” He placed his hands together in front of his face. “But we must be patient, my devious friend. Patience is a virtue, after all.”
Chapter 8
T he male dragon flapped his wings. He stained with each down stroke. He must keep flying, has to keep going. They might still be after him. Although time had past since his mate’s death and the later attack on his cave, the image of his mate laying on the ground and choking on her own blood still lingered in his mind.
The female should have just left the ram and flown away, then at least she’d have survived. But she wasn’t as smart as him, or her maternal instincts were too strong. He knew that she was driven to feed her young when they hatched, but once she was dead he abandoned the nest and saved his own skin. They could have easily lain more eggs, but instead she died trying to feed and protect it. It was her own fault the female died.
But that image still burned fresh in his mind; her body laying cold on the ground with a bolt sticking out of her mouth and blood pooling around her head. He shook his head violently back and forth, as if the memory was a thorn lodged in his mind that he could remove if he tried hard enough. But he could not forget her death rattles.
A fierce wind struck the male dragon from the east. He wobbled in the air as he tried to regain his balance. His tail stiffened and he tilted his wings. He was about to turn away from the wind when he caught an erotic and enticing scent; the scent of a female in heat. The smell was coming from the mountains to the east.
He returned to his previous course and flew towards those mountains. If there was anything that could distract a male dragon from the horrors of his previous affiliation’s fate, it would be a female ready and willing to mate.
The female rested at the mouth of her cave. Snow had already fallen in these mountains, there never seemed to be a time without it. She lay on the ground with her wings fully extended to catch the warmth of the sun. The skies were clear aside from a few white, fluffy clouds. The storms that usually blanketed the mountaintops seemed to be resting as well. Her eyelids were heavy and drooped lower as time wore on. In a few minutes she would be asleep.
A loud and tremendous roar broke the silence. She jolted up from her near slumber and looked around in confusion,now at full alert. That roar sounded familiar, and yet alien at the same time. She’d never heard one like it, but instinctively knew the source.
There was another roar as the animal that made it came into vision. She recognized it instantly, even though she’d never seen one. It was a male dragon.
He was slimmer than her, his scales were a bright orange with hints of red and yellow in his wings, and the horns on he head were more pronounced than hers. It was unbelievable. Against all odds, he had heard her mating calls.
The male flew in a circular pattern over her. He unleashed a burst of flames as he did. This was a show of force and of confidence in himself that he would use a resource as precious as fire on mere display.
She was enamored by him. In all her life she had never seen a male dragon until now, and to her he was amazing. The female flapped her wings in preparation, and then with a mighty push of her legs, she became airborne. Her powerful chest muscles pulsated, her heart pounded in her chest to deliver oxygen rich blood. She tilted her wings and moved in closer to the male.
Her heart was pounding, harder that it usually did while flying. What that normal? Was there something about this male that was confusing her mind? Why was she so transfixed on him?
They flew around each other until they reached the underside of the clouds. Water droplets splattered against their scales, the two hardly noticed. The mating dance continued, and the circle tightened. Her head swam with thoughts and emotions, so much happening to her at once. Her heart raced so fast she was almost afraid it would burst.
Just then, when they were within wingtip distance of each other, the male reached out with his hind claws. She reciprocated and together they locked talons. Then, they folded their wings and started to fall.
They plummeted head first towards the earth below, spinning as the air rushed past their bodies. They pulled each other closer and latched their front claws together as well. The ground grew closer and closer, but they took no notice. All thoughts had left their minds; they had become one creature, no longer separate entities.
At the last possible second, they released their hold on one another, flared their wings, and flew apart. As the dragons took a sharp turn away from the ground, the female blasted a stream of fire from her mouth. It scorched the rocks and snow beneath her. Trust had been earned between them, the female was now willing to mate. With the union of these dragons came a glimmer of hope for he survival of the species.
***
Richard placed a hand against his forehead and rubbed his temples. His head throbbed, as if a spike was being driven into it. His vision swirled with images and he staggered on his feet.
Chopping logs for firewood was not a great idea when one is suffering the effects of Day-After-Drinking, but it was a job he still had to do. He propped himself up on the blunt end of his axe while trying to regain his composure. A slight groan escaped his lips. He knew he shouldn’t have drunk so much yesterday.
The Last Stand of the Dragon Page 4