dragon archives 05 - forever a dragon

by Linda K Hopkins

  Chapter 35

  A cold hand crept around Lleland’s heart as he turned to look at Matthew Hobbes.

  “Master Hobbes,” he said, “what a surprise.”

  Matthew smiled thinly. “I don’t know why, Master Seaton. After all, it was you who first told me about the League. When I heard there were others who shared my goal of ridding the world of monsters, I knew I had to join their numbers.” He turned to Grant. “The dragons in the Northern Mountains have been terrorizing the towns and villages in the area for years. With your hunters, we can finally be rid of the monsters.”

  “And how will we manage that?” Lleland asked. “The dragons know better than to approach hunters.”

  “I know where to find their lair.”

  “And tell me, Master Hobbes, where exactly is it?”

  “Storbrook Castle, of course. The home of Aaron Drake.”

  “What?” Grant half rose from his seat as his hands gripped the table. Scott turned to stare at Lleland.

  “Is that true, Seaton?” Elliott demanded. His thick eyebrows pulled together in a frown as he tugged his thick beard.

  “No.” Lleland folded his arms. Callaway was watching him intently, his fingers stroking his chin. “Master Hobbes is guessing. I’ve been to Storbrook, and there’s no lair.”

  “Then why do the dragons always stay near the castle?” demanded Matthew.

  Lleland shrugged. “How do you know they do? Have you seen them around Storbrook? Have you even been to the castle?”

  “Everyone knows the dragons have a lair there. And I also know that Aaron Drake is in league with the beasts. How did he convince you to deny the presence of the lair? Did he threaten to feed you to the monsters?”

  All eyes turned to Lleland, and Scott’s eyebrows rose questioningly as his gaze settled on him. “Of course not,” Lleland said. “Aaron Drake does not believe the dragons to be a threat. If he did, he would deal with them. And after seeing them in the mountains, I tend to agree.”

  “What’s this? You don’t think the dragons are a threat?” Callaway sounded incredulous. “Master Hobbes has just told us that they’ve been terrorizing the villages.”

  “Ask Master Hobbes when a dragon last attacked his village and killed its residents,” Lleland said. He looked at Matthew.

  “You already know my father was killed by the dragon, as was my brother.”

  Elliott slapped a beefy hand on the table. “That’s all we need to know,” he said. “Seaton, you know that the loss of even one life is too many. I don’t understand why the dragon-slayer would tolerate this, but I say we go to the mountains and kill these monsters.”

  “I agree,” said Callaway. He looked at Lleland. “What’s gotten into you? We all know how much you hate dragons. Normally you’d be leading the charge! And if people are being killed –”

  “Master Hobbes’ father was not killed by the dragon,” Lleland said.

  “What’s this?” Elliott turned to Matthew. “Was he, or was he not, killed by the dragon?”

  “The dragon burned his legs so badly, he eventually died from his injuries. And my brother’s body was never even found!”

  “I think we’ve heard enough,” Callaway said.

  “Let’s kill the monsters!” shouted Channing. A short man, with heavy peasant features, Channing could smell blood a mile away.

  “The dragons aren’t a threat!” Lleland said, raising his voice against Channing’s.

  “All dragons are a threat!” Edgar Brenton leaped to his feet, with an agility that defied his size and age. He pounded the table with his fist. “It isn’t just loss of life that should concern us, but loss of property as well!”

  “Aye, aye,” shouted Channing. “Let’s send some hunters immediately.”

  “I’ll be the first to go!” Elliott said. His brown eyes swept around the table, challenging the others. “The League doesn’t let a threat go unchallenged.”

  “The mountains are six weeks away!” Lleland protested.

  “Not if we ride.” Callaway looked at Grant. “Will you provide mounts for the men who have none?”

  “Of course,” said Grant.

  “Then we should leave right away,” Elliott said. “Who’s with us?”

  “I’m not going to pass up a chance to kill a dragon,” Scott said. He glanced at Lleland. “Sorry.”

  Callaway tapped his fingers against the table. “You can count me in.”

  “I’ll lead you,” Matthew said.

  Branton shook his head. “I cannot go,” he said, “but I’ll fund the mission.”

  “Nor I,” Grant said. “But I’ll provide horses and other supplies.”

  “I must work my farm,” Channing said. He settled back in his seat and crossed his arms.

  “What about you, Seaton?” Callaway said. “Are you with us or not?”

  Lleland thought quickly. Lydia was to go to the hill country with her family. But what if she’d returned to Storbrook alone? “I’ll go, too,” he said at last.

  “Good, then it’s all settled. I say we arrange our affairs tomorrow, and leave the following dawn.”

  Lleland listened as the men planned the details for the trip, but before they left, Scott drew him aside. “I thought you didn’t want to hunt the dragons,” he said.

  “I don’t,” Lleland replied. “But I’ll not stand aside while you do it. Perhaps I can convince you not to pursue this action. But how can you leave when you have a wife to support? How much longer till the baby comes?”

  Scott frowned. “She says a few weeks. She’s staying with her mother till she gives birth. And I have a little money saved that the wife doesn’t know about.” He grinned. “Besides, I’ll be serving my country when I send an arrow through the heart of my first dragon and take a horn as a trophy!”

  Lleland was at the north gate two mornings later, waiting for the other hunters to arrive. It was a cold and dreary day in early November, and the steady downpour of rain showed no signs of abating. Lleland was seated on one of Grant’s horses, and its hot breath created clouds of mist in the cold air. The day before he had spoken to the Dean, who had reluctantly given his approval for his absence. Harold Dodds would teach his classes in his absence. His first choice was Zach, but he had left for the hill country. He had slipped a note beneath Lleland’s door before he left, explaining his absence.

  A sword was slung at Lleland’s side, and in his hand he held his bow. He had not hunted with it since returning to the city, but it settled into his palm like a long-lost friend.

  There was a clatter of hooves on the bridge and Lleland glanced up to see Elliott approaching, also carrying a bow, with an axe slung through his belt. Callaway was a few feet behind. “Eager to start the hunt, are you?” Callaway said as he drew closer. Lleland grimaced as he greeted the men.

  “You know I don’t agree with this plan. Those dragons are not a threat!”

  “Now I’ve heard it all! Seaton saying that dragons aren’t a threat! You and I both know that the only good dragon is a dead dragon!”

  Matthew rode up. “Ready to go kill some monsters?” he said with a grin, before wheeling his horse around and starting down the road. After a moment, the others turned their horses as well and fell in behind.

  They kept a quick pace, and were soon well clear of the city. The steady rain, combined with constant traffic, had turned the roads into a bog. The other men in the entourage pulled their hats low over their eyes and drew their cloaks tight around their chests. They traveled in silence, too uncomfortable for conversation. Lleland didn’t mind the cold. The fires burned within him, keeping him pleasantly warm.

  They stayed at a small roadside inn the first night, and were on their way again early the next morning. The rain had stopped, but the low clouds remained, and the air was frigid. Scott pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he fell in beside Lleland.

  “Cold, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  Scott gave him a sideways
look. “Doesn’t seem to bother you none.”

  Lleland shrugged. “I’m used to the cold. I’m a college master, remember.”

  “Hmm.” Scott was silent for a few steps. “What are you going to do when you see the dragon?”

  Lleland turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

  “Will you kill it?”

  “No.”

  “You still think the monsters should live?”

  “I do. Despite what Hobbes says, they aren’t interested in attacking the villagers.”

  “You’re the only one who believes that.”

  Lleland shrugged. “Aaron Drake seems to agree.”

  “So you’re basing everything on what Drake says?”

  “Drake knows the dragons better than anyone. And his daughter is convinced the dragons would never hurt a human.”

  “His daughter, eh? Is she pretty?”

  “That has nothing to do with it.”

  “Ah, so she is pretty! What else?”

  “She’s …” Lleland paused, wondering how to explain Lydia. Courageous. Independent. Strong-willed. A monster. “She’s different,” he finally said, fighting the tightness in his chest.

  “Different? Well, having a wife’s not all it’s cracked up to be!”

  The days started to blend together as they traveled as fast as they could without exhausting the horses. The weather was cold, and a constant drizzle made the men irritable. Five days after leaving Civitas, Scott’s mount threw a shoe. A passing traveler pointed them towards the nearest town, an hour’s walk away, and as Scott delivered his horse to the blacksmith, the others gathered at the tavern across the road.

  “What you here ’bouts?” asked the barkeep as he passed tankards of ale to the men.

  Matthew leaned forward conspiratorially. “Dragons,” he said.

  “Dragons, eh? Saw one just last week. Flew over the town in a mighty hurry! Gold, but not as big as some I’ve seen. Perhaps it knew you were after it!”

  Lleland stared into his tankard as the men laughed.

  “Didn’t stop to hunt?” Callaway asked.

  “Nah. They never do.”

  “You’ve seen them before?” Elliott sounded surprised.

  “Not often. Few times a year. They just streak over the town, and then they’re gone.”

  “Hmm.” Elliott frowned and tugged his beard.

  “They have better hunting grounds in the north,” Matthew said.

  “Or they aren’t interested in hunting humans at all,” Lleland suggested. Callaway stroked his chin as he turned to look at Lleland, but he remained silent.

  Scott entered the tavern. “The blacksmith said it’ll be a few hours,” he said. “It’s market day and he has a queue of customers. Perhaps we should just stay the night and leave at first light?” He brushed wayward curls from his forehead and smiled at a barmaid as she walked past.

  The men agreed, and soon split up to follow their own pursuits for the rest of the day. Taking his daybook and writing kit with him, Lleland wandered over to the old stone church, stopping to search for signs of the ancient foundation the church was said to be built upon.

  As he was returning to the inn later that evening, he saw Matthew stop Callaway just outside the entrance. Matthew glanced around the yard, and Lleland stepped into the shadow of a tree. Water dripped onto his neck and steamed.

  “I found something at the market today,” Matthew said. Despite the distance of sixty feet, Lleland could hear him clearly.

  “What?” Callaway said, sounding bored.

  Matthew drew something from his pocket and opened his hand. “Wolfsbane. The most dangerous poison on earth. The hag who sold it to me says that just one drop is enough to kill a person.”

  Callaway glanced at the vial in Matthew’s palm. “Must have cost you a pretty penny. Planning to murder someone, are you?”

  “Just a dragon. A few drops on an arrow should be enough to kill it.”

  Callaway leaned forward. “Poisoned arrows, hmm? That may work.”

  “It will work! This one vial should kill all the monsters in the mountains.”

  A soft growl escaped Lleland, and Matthew glanced around. “What’s that?” he said. He peered into the shadows, and Lleland closed his eyes as the flames blazed within him. When he opened them a moment later, Matthew was tucking the vial back in his pocket. Lleland left the shadows and walked towards them.

  “Evening,” he said as he drew near. “Enjoy your day?”

  “Indeed,” Matthew said with a smirk

  “You two seemed deep in conversation,” Lleland said to Callaway as Matthew sauntered into the inn.

  Callaway shrugged. “Nothing important. The man’s a bit dull, but I dare say he has his uses.”

  “Indeed?” Lleland said dryly. “I imagine even a dragon could find a more appetizing meal!”

  Callaway’s eyebrows shot up, then he laughed. “Probably!”

  Lleland waited until he could hear the soft snores of the other men, before he rose from the bed and slipped from the room. It had been three days since he last fed, and he could feel the hunger rising in his belly once more. He glanced around before moving into the trees. He carried his bow and an arrow in his hand, and his dagger in his boot. Patches of snow clung to the ground, and his breath hung in the air. He sniffed, and turned towards the strong scent of fallow deer half a mile away, giving them a wide berth as he circled downwind. A snapping twig behind him made him pause, and he looked around, peering between the trees. He saw nothing, and after a moment, continued towards his goal. He could see the herd of deer between the trees, and he dropped to his knees and quietly strung his bow. He notched the arrow and lifted the bow to his shoulder as he picked out his prey. The arrow sprang from the string, and a moment later Lleland was kneeling beside a dead buck, lifting the neck to his mouth. He heard a slight rustling and paused, once more peering into the darkness. The darkness did not limit his sight, but still he saw nothing. He sniffed, but the tang of fresh blood blocked out all other smells. He dropped his mouth to the neck and drank.

  The group of men clattered into a town in the shadows of the mountains two weeks into their journey, and it wasn’t long before they were ordering ale at the local tavern.

  “Do you see dragons around here much?” Elliott asked as the innkeeper slid a tankard down the bar.

  “Oh, aye. There’s dragons in those there mountains.”

  “They must be quite a menace.”

  “They don’t bother us none.”

  “Do you send out a maiden every month to keep the monsters at bay?” Callaway asked dryly.

  The man snorted. “They’ve never killed anyone.”

  “That’s because they only hunt in the villages to the north,” Matthew said.

  “Oh, aye? Happens my wife’s sister is married to a man beyond the mountains. Never heard her say anything about the dragons neither. Of course, that’s not to say nothing’s ever happened. There was that dragon in the city a few years back, and I heard a story once about a dragon that attacked a village in the north. But it was least a hundred years ago.”

  “My village,” Matthew said darkly.

  “Oh, aye? Well, I s’pect there’s always something to be worried about. There was a man who killed his wife and children in their beds ’bout dozen years back in the next town.” The man shook his head. “Terrible thing it was, too. My wife knew the woman – grew up with her, you know.”

  “So you don’t mind the dragons?” Scott said.

  “The dragons? Ah, no. The children like to watch them fly over. They run outside and wave their hands in the air, hoping the dragons will breathe fire.”

  Elliott raised his bushy eyebrows. “You let your children wave at the dragons.”

  “Oh, aye. Gives them a little fun, aye?”

  Every night, Lleland dreamed, but it wasn’t about Jack. Once he started feeding, those dreams had become less frequent, until they stopped altogether. It was another dragon that teased his
mind as he slept these days. A beautiful, golden dragon, that beckoned him to join her as she soared through the sky. And in the morning when he woke, it took a few moments to get over the disappointment of realizing it was just a dream.

  The men left the highway three days after the conversation with the innkeeper. The road, patchy with ice, was narrow and rutted, with only a few mean hamlets along the way. They hunted small game and cooked it over a fire, and slept beneath the stars. The other men shivered, and pulled their blankets close to their chins, but the cold didn’t bother Lleland. They were sitting around a campfire one evening when Scott took a seat next to Lleland. He stared into the fire for a while, then turned to look at him.

  “Where do you go at night when everyone else is sleeping?” Scott asked Lleland, his voice low.

  Lleland glanced up in surprise, then quickly scanned the other men. No-one was paying them any mind. “What do you mean?” he replied, his voice just as low.

  “I followed you, Lleland. I saw you kill a deer. Why would you do that?”

  Lleland drew in a deep breath. “What else did you see?”

  “You drank the animal’s blood, then ate its raw, steaming flesh.”

  “Ah!”

  “Who does that, Lleland? Who eats raw flesh? Did the dragons do something to you when you were at Storbrook? Is that why you don’t want to hunt them?”

  Lleland was silent. He could feel Scott’s gaze intent upon him. “I have a rare condition,” Lleland finally said. “I need raw blood to survive.”

  Scott turned and stared into the fire. “Is that it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  Lleland nodded. “Yes.”

  “You’d better hope no else follows you,” Scott said. He rose in disgust. “They might not be satisfied with such a dishonest answer.”

  Chapter 36

  After four days of traveling past small hamlets and shabby cottages, the men reached Matthew’s village, and he led them to his house a little way past the market square. It was large, but clearly in need of some repair and maintenance. The front door opened into a hall where a thin, haggard-looking woman sat doing needlework. Two children played at her feet.