“Let’s see now,” he mused aloud. “Suit of armor that’ll fit a big strong lad like you ain’t gonna be easy to find, what with all the Gray Hunters taking the finer gear. But I ought to be able to get my hands on…Aha!”
He straightened and turned to me with a massive suit of plate mail in his hands. He held it up with ease, but when I took the breastplate from him, I found it weighed easily fifteen pounds. With the helmet, greaves, backplate, and the rest of the full body armor, I’d be walking around with a lot more mass than I wanted. I was used to carrying a lot of weight with my firefighting gear, but I figured that fighting dragons would involve a lot of running, dodging, and tumbling.
“Uh, got anything a bit smaller? Maybe a bit lighter?” I asked.
“Hmm.” He chewed on a cluster of his dark black beard hairs and ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “There are a few suits of chain mail around here somewhere. If I can just remember where I put—”
“What about those?” I pointed to three suits of light scale armor hanging beside the door. I’d seen them when I first entered the armory. The armor was in good condition, well-maintained, and free of scuffs and scorch marks. They looked like they’d give me decent protection in a battle and probably weighed half as much as the plate mail armor.
“Sorry, those are for the Gray Hunters.” He gave me an apologetic look and shook his head. “All but the last three have come to claim their gear. I heard they got thrown in prison, but--”
“Their owners aren’t going to need them,” I interrupted him. “I heard they got into a fight last night. One shattered his fingers, and another is probably nursing the world’s most painful testicular bruise. The third died. By accident, I hear.”
Master Krastin fixed me with a curious look as if trying to decide if I was telling the truth or not.
“Sir Galfred said I could get whatever I need,” I said with a shrug. “If the Gray Hunters aren’t going to be using that armor, I’m sure I’ll need it on our quest to Frosdan’s lair.”
“Aye, right you are,” the armorer said after a moment. He nodded and gestured toward the suits. “If you can fit into one of ‘em, it’s yours.”
“Thank you.”
I tried on the largest of the suits of armor. It fit well enough and wasn’t as heavy as I’d expected. Unfortunately, it pinched a little under the armpits, and though I could move around easily enough, the coat jingled with every step.
“Here, you’ll be needing this,” the armorer said as he handed me a breastplate.
I struggled to put it on over the scale mail, and it added ten extra pounds to my back and made breathing difficult once the armorer pulled the straps tight.
“You sure I need this?” I asked him.
“When it’s the only thing standing between you and a fire goblin spear or an Ice Killer’s claw, you’ll thank me.” Master Krastin gave a self-satisfied nod of his head. “Now, let’s get you something sharp to carry.”
I followed him to the far side of the room where twenty or so weapons hung on hooks or sat in racks. I tested a short sword and a long sword, but they didn’t feel right. I didn’t bother with the spears and moved past the maces without a second glance.
Two axes sat on racks at the far end of the line. One was a double-headed axe almost as large as the one carried by Sir Galfred. The other was my fireman’s axe, and I immediately knew which weapon I’d take.
“Mighty fine steel, that,” the armorer said and nodded his approval. “Solid ash handle, well-honed blade, and that pick side will come in handy for punching through ice wolf hide or crushing rock trolls.”
“Ice wolf? Rock trolls?” I asked, and my eyebrows rose. “I can guess at goblins, but I’ve never heard of the others.”
“Aye,” the armorer said with a nod. “Those are just a few of the creatures you’ll face as you cross Riamod’s land to reach Frosdar’s. Many more besides, from fire goblins to ogres to Ice Killers. More than a few of those bastards have hides too thick to be damaged by a blade, so that’ll be the right tool for the job.”
“Humm.” I’d come to grips with the fact that dragons existed and that I had to kill them, but now it turned out our quest to kill the fire and ice dragons would put me in the path of all sorts of crazy creatures. Fire goblins, rock trolls, ice monsters, and who knew what else? I had gotten myself into something a lot bigger than I expected, but that was okay. I’d find a way to win.
“Here, if you’re partial to axes, you may want these as well.” The armorer produced a pair of small hatchets and a belt with two loops to hang them from. “Learn to throw ‘em right, and they’ll bring down an enemy at forty yards.”
“Thank you,” I said as I took the axes with a grateful nod. “Anything else you think I need?”
“A whole lot of luck.” A broad grin split Master Krastin’s ruddy face. “Best armor a fellow can have, so long as it’s on his side. Without it, the finest suit in the world won’t mean anything.”
“I’ve got plenty of luck,” I said as I smiled at the man.
“Hah!” the armorer laughed and slapped me on the back. “Young bucks like you need a reminder that you’re not invincible now and again. It’s up to us old’ns to give it to you.” His face grew serious, and he thrust out a hand. “All jests aside, I truly do wish you all the best of luck. Whitespire is counting on you all.”
“No pressure, right?” I said as I shook his hand.
As I strode from the armory weighed down by my new armor and weapons, I caught sight of my turnout gear laying folded neatly on the table beside the door. For a moment, I thought of taking it with me. I’d spent the last year of my life training in that suit of armor, but here I was exchanging it for one made of steel.
“It’ll serve you well when you hunt down Riamod,” Nyvea told me, “but do you think it will be useful in a land of frost and ice?”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” I said. “It just feels weird to leave it here.”
“You can get it back when we return. For now, we need to travel light.”
I left the turnout suit on the table, but the solid handle of my fire axe comforted me. I might have been in a totally new world going off on an insane quest to kill dragons, but at least I was carrying something familiar. I knew my way around this axe far better than I did anything else. Even if I didn’t know how to fight with it, I could certainly swing it with enough force to do serious damage.
Sometimes, serious damage was all that mattered.
Outside the armory, the courtyard was filled with stamping horses, servants rushing around, and the rest of our dragon-slaying party. Sir Galfred sat in the saddle of an enormous black warhorse that stomped and snorted as if eager to get on with the adventure. Fifteen men wearing the dark gray cloaks of Gray Hunters adjusted the straps on their packs, checked their gear one last time, or mounted up beside the knight.
A servant motioned me over to one side of the courtyard where a horse stood with an empty saddle. “This is Fleetfoot,” the servant said as he stroked the horse’s mane. “He’s a spirited one, but once he gets accustomed to you, he’ll be as loyal as a terrier.”
I stared into the horse’s big brown eyes. Fleetfoot gave a little snort and pushed its nose against my hand. I petted the horse and then turned back toward the servant with a questioning raise of my eyebrow.
“He wants a treat,” the servant said as he pulled an apple from a bag at his waist.
I took the fruit and held it out to the horse, making sure to keep my hand flat so he didn’t bite me. The horse sniffed the apple for a moment before snapping it up in a single bite.
“There you go,” I said as I stroked the horse’s long face. “Nice to meet you, Fleetfoot. I’m Ethan.”
The horse snorted and nudged my chest with his nose. I took it as a good sign, and I moved my hand to scratch his chin.
The servant took my pack, gave me a detailed inventory of my winter clothing, and showed me how to tie it to the back of my saddle
. He also explained how to adjust the harness and tack. I had never handled horses before, so I had no idea how I’d remember all the details. I’d had only one riding lesson in my life, and I’d barely learned to do more than sit in a saddle while the horse trotted around an enclosed paddock. This was going to be a lot harder than that.
“I’m certain Grendis will help you if you have any questions,” the servant said and pointed toward one of the Gray Hunters.
The man he’d indicated was tall and lean, with a rangy build that was accented by the longbow and quiver of arrows on his back. He had an angular face, a hawkish nose, and a short brown beard that ended in a long braid hanging from his chin. When he looked over at me, his expression was hard and cold.
“I’m certain he will,” I said with a forced smile. Grendis looked like he’d rather stick a dagger in me than help me with anything.
I mounted up as Sir Galfred began to speak.
“Brave warriors of Whitespire,” the knight said in a clear voice that echoed around the courtyard. “We ride to battle, not for glory, but for justice. For the sake of all mankind, let us stand firm in the face of danger, and may our courage see us safely home to our loved ones. For the king!”
“For the king!” the Gray Hunters echoed.
Sir Galfred clapped his spurs against his warhorse’s ribs and the beast broke into a trot. One by one, the Gray Hunters fell in line behind the departing knight. I kicked Fleetfoot into motion and took my place at the rear of the column.
We rode out of the palace courtyard and down the hill toward the city of Whitespire. I was shocked to see hundreds of people lining the streets. They cheered Sir Galfred and the Gray Hunters while waving ribbons and bright-colored streamers. The shouts and cheers grew louder as we descended further into the city, and I guessed that there had to be ten thousand people waiting to see us off.
I smiled and waved like the rest of my companions, but a nervous tension roiled in my gut as I rode. It was just now hitting me what exactly I was going to do. Until now, it had been nothing more than a quest, something I had promised to do without actually realizing the sheer magnitude of the situation. Now, I was riding out with sixteen men to go hunt down a dragon.
This was all sorts of crazy.
The thought followed me out of the city of Whitespire. Sir Galfred set a brisk pace, and my spine and ass soon ached from all the jostling and bouncing I did while Fleetfoot was trotting along behind the rest of the horses.
Beyond the walls of Whitespire, the terrain sloped downward into the farmland I’d crossed the previous day. This time, instead of gawking at me, the farmers waved and cheered like the people in Whitespire. Evidently, everyone had heard of Sir Galfred’s quest.
A couple of miles further, the farmlands gave way to rolling hills covered in thick green grass, with only a few trees dotting the gentle rises. The sweet scent of wildflowers filled the air, and a warm breeze blew across my face. However, the sun was hot and bright, and I wore heavy armor. Sweat soaked my tunic and streamed down my forehead. My jaw ached from clenching my teeth as I rode, and I knew I’d be sore by the end of the day.
“Please tell me you have some magic that will make my ass less sore?” I asked Nyvea.
“Sorry, hero,” she replied in a voice that I was certain had an edge of laughter. “You’ve got a long way to go before you can unlock the magical ability to fly.”
That caught me totally by surprise. “What?” I said aloud before I realized that the other members of my party might hear me talking to myself. “What?” I repeated in my mind. “I’ll be able to fly?”
“Once you’ve developed your magical abilities enough, sure. But that’ll only happen if you stick around Agreon.”
You still haven’t told me how killing the dragon is going to help me build my magic, you know?
“How much does it matter at the moment?” Nyvea asked. “Focus on staying in the saddle, eh?”
I ground my teeth, but I couldn’t argue with her. Fleetfoot seemed to be having a great time making me as uncomfortable as possible, and it took all of my concentration to keep my seat. In my one riding lesson, the instructor had told me to use my legs to rise out of the saddle for every second stride of the horse’s foreleg to smooth out the jolts of its gait. It seemed to work, for by the end of the next hour, I could actually lift my eyes from the horse’s mane and look around.
The rolling hills ended a few miles ahead of us where a thick line of a massive forest cut across the horizon. As we closed the distance to the forest, I realized how absurdly huge the trees were. Some rose at least two hundred feet over my head, and they reminded me of those Giant Redwood trees that grew in California, but these were oaks and pines.
They seemed even more impressive as we rode under them. I felt terribly small in comparison to the towering trees, and I guessed that some of their trunks were easily thirty-five or forty feet wide. It seemed the forest had a similar effect on the rest of my companions, for the mood of the men around me grew solemn as a nervous tension filled the air.
Night came much sooner than I’d expected in the forest. The thick canopy blocked out the sun, and barely any light filtered through the branches. Within an hour of entering the forest, Sir Galfred called a halt.
I tried my best not to wince as I slid to the forest floor. My legs ached from the effort of moving with the horse’s gait, but it felt strange to be on solid ground once more after spending all day in the saddle.
“Managed to keep up, eh?”
I turned to find one of the Gray Hunters, a man with fiery red hair and a long scar running down the side of his face, staring at me. His dark brown eyes held casual disinterest rather than the cold hardness I’d seen on Grendis’ face. His expression reminded me of the way the thirty-year veterans looked at me my first day in Station 52. They’d seen hundreds of people come and go, and I was just one more body to them.
“I’m trying,” I said to him with a shrug.
“You ever spent a day in the saddle, boy?” the man asked.
“No,” I said, but gave him a broad grin. “How’d I do?”
The man gave a shrug and scratched his clean-shaven chin. “I’ve seen worse,” he said after a moment. “Keep moving around to loosen up your muscles, and you won’t feel it as bad tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” I thrust out a hand. “I’m Ethan.”
The red-headed man looked at me for a moment, then shook his head and walked off.
The rest of the Gray Hunters paid me about as much attention. One or two spoke in gruff tones to give me orders to gather firewood or collect water from a nearby stream, and when I asked Grendis about how to care for Fleetfoot, he fixed me with that hard, flat stare again.
I sighed. It had been much the same with my class at the Academy. I was always the outsider trying to make friends with people who had already formed a clique with others. It took time, but I’d eventually win these men over.
“I still like you,” Nyvea told me. “They’re just jealous of how handsome you are, and how the princess was staring at you all night.”
“You think?” I asked her in my mind.
“Of course,” she purred. “They all wish they were as handsome as—”
“No, what you said about the princess.” I felt my cheeks grow warm. “You really think she was staring at me all night?”
“Handsome, she was looking at you like a cat looking at a particularly tasty mouse. Either there were fireworks going off in her pants, or she was hot for the hero. I know the feeling. Sigh. You have no idea how… frustrating it is to be stuck in here while I hang against your bare chest.”
The thought brought a flush of heat to my cheeks as Nyvea filled my mind with a particularly pleasant image that involved me, the princess, and very little in the way of clothing. I was thankful for the armor to cover the sudden tightness in my pants.
I busied myself caring for Fleetfoot in an effort to get the lusty images out of my head. I watched the Gray Hunters brushin
g their horses down and tried to copy their movements as they removed the horse’s tack, saddle, and blanket. I had just managed to get Fleetfoot’s saddle off when the horse gave a nasty little whinny and stepped toward me. Before I could get out of the way, his haunch crashed into my side and knocked me backward.
Right into Grendis.
The man had held a cup of water to his lips, but I knocked the cup from his hands and splashed its contents down the front of his mail.
“Watch it, you oaf!” he snarled.
“Sorry,” I said as I caught myself. “Damned horse here has a mind of its own.”
“Sure,” Grendis sneered, “blame it on your horse. It couldn’t be that you’re just too clumsy and stupid to mind where you put your feet.”
I felt a surge of anger in my chest, and my fists clenched tight. “Look,” I said in a tight voice, “I tried to do the nice thing and apologize. You don’t have to be such a dick about it.”
“Call me a dick again,” Grendis snarled, and a dagger suddenly appeared in his right hand, “and I’ll gut you like a fish.”
I didn’t step back. I’d faced down a schoolyard bully or two in my time, and I’d long ago stopped allowing people to shove me around.
Instead, I leaned forward and growled between my clenched teeth. “Don’t. Be. A. D—”
“Hey, now!” A voice interrupted me. “Looks like it’s the newbie’s shift to stand watch. You’re with me, lad.”
The man who had spoken was nearly as tall as me, with sturdy shoulders, a thick nose, and a long black beard that hung down to his waist in two braids. His head had been shaved bald and waxed until it reflected the light of our small campfire. When he grabbed hold of my bicep, I felt the strength in his grip.
“This way, newbie. I’ll show you the ropes.”
I allowed myself to be tugged away, but not without shooting a scowl over my shoulder at Grendis.
Dragon Slayer: A Pulp Fantasy Harem Adventure Page 10