by Marie Daye
Marie Daye
The Dragon
Slayer
ISBN
The Dragon Slayer
Copy Right 2017 by Marie Daye
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review the reproduction, or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Marie Daye.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name(s). Any and all incidents are pure invention and are not inspired by any individual who’s known or unknown to the author.
Dear reader,
I would like to thank you for purchasing my book, The Dragon Slayer and taking the time to read it. I hope you enjoy reading the following story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. As an aspiring author with self-published works it means a great deal to me to have a growing audience.
Visit me on Facebook to stay up to date on all of my works.
https://www.facebook.com/MarieDayeNovels/
To my wonderful mother Elaine Blake, an extraordinary woman who has guided me all my life to make the right choices so I could become a good person and never give up on my dreams. It is because of you I have grown to be the person I have become, and you’ve pushed me in all the right directions.
Thank you for always being by my side.
The Dragon
Slayer
Prologue
It was the first day of summer and the early morning was strangely cold, a thick fog rose from the freezing ground, coating and obscuring the landscape. The sun had just shown its blinding face to the world once again, growing in size and height as it peaked above the mountain tops to the east. The giant star chased away the darkness of the night, radiating warmth over the frozen landscape. The colors in the sky grew brighter, the blackness of the sky transitioned to shades of soft violets, blues and pale oranges which reflected off the full clouds that slowly drifted from the snowy peaks. The ground lay damp with frozen water particles slowly melting into dew, giving each step a foreign crunch.
The land had changed over the last month, from a dreary winter land to a lush green prairie. The trees that were once fragile, the moisture within them frozen solid were now blossoming with thick foliage. Bright colored flowers were beginning to bud, soon to follow would be delectable fruits. Fields that would otherwise remain barren, had their earth being dug into and crops were being planted.
By fall there would be acres full of wheat and other produce that would supply the land through the long winter months. Black birds scratched and pecked at the soil, searching for the seeds farmers had planted: knowing that soon they could fill their bellies with good food. The once frozen waters of the nearby creeks and rivers now roared down their stony bed, and fighting their current were schools of fish.
The grand town of Edinburgh was just as quiet as the land surrounding it. The walls encasing the villagers inside the city were covered in frost from the morning's cool temperature, and the guards patrolling it needed to watch their every step. All the buildings within the city fought against the cold dawn; their internal structures heated with fire, letting smoke raise up through the chimneys.
Glass windows were fogged, old wooden doors creaked more on their hinges than ever before, the sound of splitting wood echoed through each alley way and off of each stone block. The city was quiet this morning, for half the residents had yet to rise; and the other half had stilled in their movements.
The villagers paused their motions and activities; the blacksmith held her hammer still against the anvil, the market square merchants ceased all sales, warriors in training stopped their advances at one another. It was as if the whole world consisting of only Edinburgh paused and looked up to the sky.
The gaze of dozens of men and women scanning the horizon, searching the vast openness for something, somewhere. The sound of the woodcutter's axe slicing through a final chunk of lumber cracked once more off of every surface, before a high pitched scream chilled all of the villagers to their bones.
Suddenly the silent morning was overrun with a bell that began to toll, each crack of the metal structure sent a heavy boom throughout the city and to whomever was close enough to hear it. Terrified screams, bairn's crying, and guards shouting orders to one another as they scrambled about. Women and their babes were instructed to hide indoors, seek shelter wherever it could be found. Able bodied men were ordered to pick up arms, to prepare themselves for a bloody battle.
It was absolute chaos.
Guards climbed their towers, equipped with strong bows and sharp arrows. Others climbed the stairs to the wall where they prepared themselves both mentally and physically. Citizens who were familiar with battle stood next to them, in hand were the weapons of their choice. Blades, axes, knives, bows and scrolls of magic.
The city was prepared, but was it enough? There was no calm before the storm, there was not time to be more readied: many would die today.
The guards and warriors waited, waited for what felt like an eternity. Until they heard it, a sharp noise: one like a blade being drawn over a stone. Screeching, wailing, ear piercing. A noise that meant only one thing. Death.
"Dragon!" Hollered a man from the bell tower, his frantic cry alerting every man and woman of the beast’s arrival.
Its figure growing as it closed the distance between itself and the city. Its amber colored scales gleamed like fire as it reflected the sunlight. Broad wings carried its ginormous body through the air, the sound of its ancient voice thundered through the open sky. Its form was mighty, majestic, but deadly. The beast had to be over thirty feet long from snout to tail. The motion of its wings flapping kicked dust and dirt up from the crevasses of the ground, the frightening sound of it flying overhead sounded like a swarm of locust. Deafening.
The beast roared again, this time followed by a breath of blazing fire that shot down upon the armed men. Each pass over the city, its voice struck the ears of all the residents with a rumbling blow, and the fire that rained from its throat scorched anything it could reach.
Only a miracle could save the townspeople from this dragon, and a miracle they might have.
Chapter One
“Dragon Slayer!" A repetitive and pounding knock on the door spoke with a frantic voice.
"Dragon Slayer! Edinburgh needs you!" Another round of knocking, and another tongue spoke.
The pounding on the heavy oak door continued, what started as a knock with courtesy turned to a heavy clamor of fists wailing on the solid wood. The sound echoed loudly into the entry hall, through the kitchen and dining hall, into every room on the main floor. It only carried a dim glimpse to the upper floor, where it sounded like a muffled wolves cry.
The worried men continued another set of attacks on the door, each calling out and hoping for an answer, fearing it would go without notice: until the heavy pair of doors with brass fittings flew open.
A pair of red eyes greeted the two Nordic men dressed in Edinburgh guard’s uniforms. The eerie set of eyes glared at the men, followed by a deep scowl on the male dark elves face. His silver hair was pulled back from his masculine aged face into a thick braid that trailed down his spine. The guards stiffened upright as they were staring face-to-face with the ‘Dragon Slayers’ right-hand-man in battle, their retainer, and friend. The man was notoriously in a foul mood, and this morning was not any exception.
He stood in a pair of brown dyed cotton slacks
with a rough wool towel in his hand, remnants of beard trickled in the fibers and his face was dripping with water. The fit drow was annoyed, very annoyed at the interruption, and his visitors were not welcome.
He eyed the men up and down from his tall posture, noticing that they were breathing heavy and their uniforms were wet with sweat and river water. Their helmets removed, settled in the crook of their arms. They glanced at one another, then back at the retainer, their expressions grim.
"What is it?" Gaalin snapped, tossing his towel over his bare shoulder.
The taller of the two men looked him square in the eyes and then stuttered, "W-we came f-fr-from Edinburgh, my lord."
Gaalin raised a sarcastic eyebrow at the man and with his hand gestured him to continue speaking, "And?"
"A-a-a Dragon, my lord. It-its attacking the city!" He continued.
His eyes were wide in what Gaalin now figured was fear, not because of him, but because of the cursed beast down the mountain side.
The second guard continued, "It came at dawn, right as the sun gave light over the mountains! It is a massive beast, we rode here as fast as our horses could carry us! Gods help us, I pray it’s not too late!"
Gaalin frowned at the men, "Edinburgh is equipped with many guards. Enough to handle a mere dragon. Summon the Dragon Slayer on more important matters.'' He began to shut the door.
"Wait!" Shouted the tall guard, protesting the action by placing his palm against the aged wood. "Please my lord. Edinburgh is in grave danger, we were not prepared for such a beast! It’s huge, bigger than any I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. Our arrows are nothing but something to scratch an itch on its backside, our blades naught but a pick it can pick its teeth with. We must have the Slayer's aid."
Gaalin looked at the man, his was displeased with the guards: he was displeased with all of Edinburgh. The war with the dragons was nearing an end, and the dragon slayer was no longer needed to slay every mediocre dragon. The residents of the land had learned to take up arms against the dragons, learned how to defend themselves and their homeland.
The beastly species was getting smaller by the week. Small villages with only farmers had successfully defended their crops and livestock against the fiery breath of the dragons. So how had such a grand city such as Edinburgh failed to defend themselves from but one dragon?
Gaalin felt his brow crease into a frown again. The war with the Dragons has once again been raging on for the last five years, and his lordship, the dragon slayer, had slain many of the fire breathing lizard-beasts. Far too many to count now, his lordship had finally been able to settle into a home on the mountain side away from the busy crowds of any cities. It was time for this land and her residents to stop depending on the slayers.
“The slayer cannot be summoned for a single dragon, Edinburgh is on its own. You all must learn to live without the slayer, what happens when there is not one? What then? Who will you ninnies go running to then? Up your king’s skirt I suppose." Gaalin snorted, then chuckled to himself. Once again attempting to close the door.
This time two pairs of hands landed on the doors, once again: stopping him. They both spoke, "Please my lord, please."
"Edinburgh will be done for without the slayer's aid. It will be nothing but a scorch mark on the landscape. A hole in the maps, it will be nothing but a graveyard. We beg you, please, summon the dragon slayer to aid us." The tallest guard pleaded again, he looked like he was on the verge of tears through the dirt that stained his face.
Gaalin analyzed the men through a piercing gaze, before speaking once again. "I will see if they are able. Stay here, and do not continue that blasted pounding on my door again."
The men smiled, thanking him over and over again as the door was shut in their faces. Gaalin sighed, running his hands down his face. He disliked the citizens of Edinburgh before this, and now he disliked them more.
He turned on his heels and walked down the entry hall, his lord’s home was most magnificent yet quaint at the same time. The home was large with plenty of space and storage. The lower level consisted of the entry hall, dining hall, kitchen, a large library, and his living quarters.
Upstairs lay several barren rooms and his lords living quarters. The dragon slayer had spent months to design and construct the masterpiece, its walls constructed with brick and stone, artistically accented with sawn lumber. The concept was open, each room connected to one another minus a few hidden passageways.
He entered the dining hall that was connected to the adjacent kitchen, stocked with fresh produce and meat, both salted and frozen. He paused to consider bringing a fresh meal with him, yet he chose to continue his lazy pace through the house. The wall scones were not lit for the day yet, so the rooms remained dark; however his eyes were accustomed to such a sight. Even through the dim light, he could make out the two large staircases that would lead him up to the next floor where his lord should still be sleeping.
He stepped up the stairs, one by one to make as little noise he could. The slayer was the savior of the people, but may the old gods help you if you wake this one. Gaalin rounded two dark corners before he came up to a set of double doors. The aged oak was engraved with detailed Nordic artwork depicting a magnificent battle between a slayer and dragon. A king from a distant city sent this as a gift of thanks for saving them from such a beast, a mediocre gift he thought.
Gaalin breathed in deep, closed his eyes and pushed down on the iron knob. The door groaned slightly, its weight arguing with him as he pushed it open. He left the door open and slipped inside the dark room, the heavy drapes had been pulled over the windows, candles were either burnt out or had never been lit the night before, leaving the room in complete darkness. So he walked into a room with nothing to guide him besides the smell of ale.
He approached the bedside where he heard a faint snore, feeling around he felt the edge of the nightstand and then found what he assumed had to be a candle. He chuckled silently as he heard a sudden and loud snort. Snapping his fingers, a small flame spouted from his finger tips and he held the flame to the blackened wick. The candle came to life and he returned to the side of the bed where his lord lay sprawled out across the goose feathered mattress in nothing but a sheer nightgown. Blankets and pelts were kicked to the foot of the four poster bed or to the floor. Bottles of ale, some empty, others not, lay out across the table across the room. He stared down at the limp body, one he'd assume was a corpse because of the stench; if it were not for the apparent breathing, and he’d be calling for a graveyard attendee.
He sat on the edge of the bed near the slayer’s head, resting the candle on his knee while he lightly shook their shoulder.
"My lord," He said softly. "You must wake, my lord."
The slayer stirred, grumbling incoherent curses at the manservant. "Why the bloody hell are you waking me up in the middle of the night Gaalin? This best be important!"
Gaalin frowned. "My lord, it is not the middle of the night. It is past dawn, nearing midday." He stood, and walked away before a bottle could be smashed across his temple, moving to the most eastern facing window and ripping the curtains open. Scaring away any devil in the room, disintegrating any shadowy creature, and blinding his incredibly hung-over dragon slayer.
He heard a distasteful groan.
“God's curse you Gaalin!"
"My lord, I refuse to offer you any apologies for merely pointing out the obvious." Gaalin opened the curtains on the last two windows in the room, welcoming the warmth the sunlight offered. He turned around to face his liege who now sat up on the bed, the sheer nightgown revealing every feminine part of her body.
She sat with her legs tucked beneath her buttocks, one hand rubbing her eyes, the other stretching and reaching to the ceiling. Her flaxen colored hair was a disheveled mess around her long face and down her middle back, her lips plump in a pout as she glared icy blue daggers at him.
Gaalin approached her and handed her the only pair of cotton pants without holes in them. “You need to
get dressed my lord."
She continued to glare at him, and he noticed how blood shot her eyes were. She must have drunken a lot and slept very little.
“Why must you drink that foul ale? It is not good for you, your liver will rot out of your gut.” “You know why it is I drink Gaalin.” She grumbled again, shifting her weight on the mattress.
“Yes, I know why it is you drink. But why must you drink this slop?” Gaalin picked up a bottle and felt his stomach churn at the stench of the ale. She just grumbled in response to him.
"Edinburgh calls for you."
She clumsily stood up off the bed, tripping over her own toes towards him where he caught her with one arm.
“What for?" She mumbled.
"A dragon is attacking the city." He said calmly.
Gaalin tried to hand her the pants but instead she pushed herself away from him and began to walk away, pulling the lacings from the gown at her neck.
“I suppose I should attend to that problem then, yes?”
“Yes.”
“I’m safe to assume then, that there is some exhausted guard waiting for me at my door?”
“Yes, there’s two guards. They rode here on horseback, right at the beginning of the attack.”
She sighed, her head rolling back as she stretched once more. “Yes, of course they did.”
Shrugging her shoulders she let the material fall past her waist to the floor, leaving her to stand nude in front of her drow companion. She ignored his gaze, even though she felt his eyes begin to look her up and down.
Gaalin’s view started at the floor as he enjoyed a view he enjoyed almost every morning, his liege was perfection he thought to himself. She was nearly as tall as he, lean with well-toned muscles from her years of travel and battle. His gaze traveled up her long legs to pause momentarily at her plump buttocks, one he'd just love to reach out and grab.