Dragon Slayer

by Michael-Scott Earle

  My heart hammered in my chest as I tried to follow her instructions. I had never thought of light or wind as magic, but suddenly Nyvea’s words made sense. I could feel the driving forces behind everything. The power felt close enough to reach out and touch it.

  “Now, draw that magic into yourself. Just a little bit at first. You don’t want to take in too much all at once, or it won’t end well.”

  I did as she instructed and tugged on the threads that hung just beyond my grasp. Suddenly, I was filled with a warmth and energy, like a burning fire that coursed through my hands and tingled up my arms. I gasped and my eyes snapped open.

  “Holy shit!” I laughed in triumph and tried again. It took effort to concentrate through all the adrenaline rushing through my veins, but after a few minutes, I managed to pull more of the magic into my body. It felt like drinking a Red Bull, waking up from a full night of sleep, and eating a boatload of chocolate all in one.

  “Damn, I’ve never felt so amazing.” I flexed my arms with all the strength running through my muscles. “I feel like I could break down a hundred doors and run up the stairs of the Empire State Building without stopping.”

  “That is the way of magic,” Nyvea told me. “The more powerful you are, the more power you want. For now, you must limit yourself to just a bit. Your body isn’t yet used to holding a lot of power. But beware. There is a cost to using the magic.”

  My eyes were drawn to the ground at my feet. A small patch of the surrounding grass had withered and died, with only bare earth remaining.

  “Siphoning takes the power from the world around you. Take too much, and you kill the world.”

  “What else can you teach me?” I asked. I was so excited to learn more about the amazing powers Barodan had promised me. My training in the Academy had nothing on this.

  “Nothing,” she replied.

  “What? Why?” I asked as disappointment rolled through my gut.

  “Because Barodan has only gifted you with one ability. It is up to you to collect more.”

  “Wait, what?” I felt even more confused than I had when I first heard I could do magic. “I can collect more? How?”

  “Simple,” Nyvea replied. “You must kill the dragons. Every dragon you kill will unlock some new power. You see those tattoos?”

  I nodded as I looked down at the marks covering my body. The swirling lines disappeared over my shoulders and down past the waistband of my pants. I hadn’t yet taken a look down below, but I was pretty sure I’d see more tattoos covering my legs as well.

  “Each tattoo represents a new magical ability you will gain over time. There are twenty-four tattoos, one for each of the dragons living on Agreon.”

  “Twenty-four?” I felt my eyebrows rising until they nearly flew off my forehead. “That’s a shitload of dragons. Barodan didn’t say there were that many.”

  “It is,” Nyvea purred in a soothing tone, “but you are the hero of Earth who has been summoned to achieve the impossible. You’re certainly built right for the job. And, with your trusty Earth axe, you will be unstoppable.”

  “Yeah, I’m not so sure that’s going to work. Don’t dragons have super thick scales or something?” I stared down at the axe in my hand and tried to imagine using it to attack a dragon the size of a house.

  “Yes, they are large and can use powerful magic. That challenge is what makes you the hero.”

  “I want to help you all out, but I’m just a bit skeptical as to how. Do your dragons live in caves or under mountains or something? Do I just storm in and hit it with my axe until it dies? Help me out here.

  “Barodan’s gift gives you access to the magic of Agreon, which will empower you to defeat the dragons. With my help, you can do the impossible.”

  “Is that so?” I asked. “How can a voice in a gemstone help me fight dragons? I don’t know anything about you other than that you have a really nice voice.”

  “You should see me outside this gemstone,” Nyvea purred. “You’ll find I’m even nicer than my voice.”

  “What do you look like?” I asked.

  “What kind of woman do you like? Blonde? Redhead? Brunette?”

  “Uhh…” I stammered as my man brain fluttered through a collage of all the women I’d dated or wanted to date.

  “I can be whatever you like, Ethan.”

  “That’s not much of an answer,” I told her as I crossed my arms over my bare chest. “I know your name’s Nyvea, but what else can you tell me about yourself? How did you get in the amulet? Why doesn’t Barodan want me to let you out?”

  “Isn’t it enough to know that I’m here to help?” she asked in a voice like a silk scarf, and I got that feeling of goosebumps shivering over my skin. “I’m your guide, your guardian, and anything else you want me to be.”

  “What I want is to be back home, but I guess that’s not going to happen.” I tried hard to stop myself from shouting in my frustration. It wasn’t her fault I was here, but her playing coy and dodging my questions wasn’t helping. “Tell me everything I need to know about this world. If I’m going to be here a while, I have to know what I’m up against.”

  “You already know that you are on the island of Iriador. The island is divided into five dragon kingdoms, with two small human realms in the middle of it all.”

  “And what about the dragons?” I tapped one of the tattoos on my chest with a finger. “If I want to get more magic, I need to kill dragons. If I want to go home, I need to kill dragons. So how do I find those dragons I need to kill?”

  “Two days’ travel to the west is the realm of Riamod, a fire-breather. The red dragon is the biggest threat to the humans here in Elloriel since it raids and burns their homes. In fact, Barodan brought you to this time and place because the humans here are in dire need of your help.”

  “Good.” I bent, picked up my still-damp shirts, put them on, and then set about pulling on my boots. “I’ll go to the king and offer my service to help fight against the dragon.”

  “Not to rain on your sunny day,” Nyvea told me, “but you don’t have gear or supplies or armor or anything with which you can fight a dragon.”

  “Oh, yeah, right,” I said with a crestfallen frown. “Maybe I can go to the palace and join the fire department there. If nothing else, I can get a job cutting down trees to earn enough to pay for the gear.”

  It felt like a good plan, and Nyvea seemed to agree with me.

  “That could work,” she said. “Your power will be breathtaking, but you need time to unlock the abilities and learn to use them. For now, you’ll need to rely on mundane armor and weapons.”

  “Which I’ll find in the city.”

  “That’s right. Tell the king how powerful you are, and he’ll give you the armor and supplies that you need.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think it will be that easy. The king will probably think I’m crazy if I say it like that, so I’ll think of another way to convince him.” I looked around the forest but couldn’t see anything through the thick trees. “But first, mind telling me which way to go? It’ll be easier than having to climb a tree and see for myself.”

  “This way, handsome.” The gemstone gave a little tug on my necklace to pull me to the left, so I drew in a deep breath of the crisp forest air, retrieved my axe and bundled turnout gear, and set off in the direction she’d indicated.

  The forest was alive all around me. Deer scampered among the trees and the songs of a thousand birds filled the air. Squirrels and chipmunks chittered at me and waved their bushy tails as I went past. The wind set the leaves rustling, and the sound filled me with a soothing calm. There was only peace and tranquility in this place as if the forest had stood undisturbed by humans for a hundred years. I found no wide trail but instead followed deer and rabbit paths to cut through the densest patches of forest. The gemstone around my neck kept me on course for Whitespire no matter how much my trek through the forest wended down hills or across streams.

  I hiked for at least two hours,
but there was no fatigue or ache in my muscles. It reminded me of the feeling I’d had while swimming in the pool. I felt stronger on Agreon than I was on Earth, sort of like the gravitational differences between Earth and the Moon or Venus. That was the closest I could come to explaining it, but it was enough to know I felt strong and alive in a way I never had before.

  As I walked, I tried to focus on sensing the magic around me. I listened to Nyvea’s warning not to absorb too much power and just searched my surroundings for the threads of magic. It was very strong in the huge oaks and towering pine trees and weaker in the blades of grass and delicate flower buds. When the wind blew hard, I could feel the magic driving it. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but I loved every minute of it.

  I felt powerful.

  It was as if I possessed limitless energy. I wanted to lift some weights, or run, or fight. My muscles begged to work, and my mind felt well rested and sharp.

  Nyvea took advantage of our hike to fill me in on the details of the human realm. Whitespire was the capital city, located in the center of the kingdom ruled by King Obragar. It was also the hub of commerce for all the smaller towns, villages, and settlements of free humans seeking refuge from the dragon lands.

  She told me we could ride across the entire kingdom in three days, and the population numbered less than two hundred thousand humans. Most dedicated themselves to farming, cattle herding, smithing, forestry, and the other professions that kept cities and towns running. There was no standing army, just the White Guard in Whitespire, which served as both law keepers and militia when needed. The king had avoided building up an army for fear of what Riamod, the red dragon, would do if it felt threatened.

  The forest soon thinned out, and I strode toward the edge of the trees. I found myself on a hill that sloped gently downward to farmland, and I paused to take in the sight. Fields of yellow wheat stood beside enormous swaths of green corn. Hundreds of rows of cabbage, lettuce, carrots, potatoes, and other vegetables stood beside trellises of tomato-laden vines. I smiled as I walked through the waist-high wheat field and ran my hand across the tips of the crops. Everything here was so real, so alive.

  Farmers walked among the crops with hoes, picks, and other crude implements I’d never seen before. A horse-drawn wagon rumbled past with a full load of baled wheat. I knew from my conversations with Nyvea that they were growing corn, wheat, rice, and other grains, and preparations for the harvest season were in full swing.

  Men, women, and children stood to look at me with wide-eyed expressions as I strode past, but I gave them a nod along with my charming grin, and they all greeted me with a return smile. Excited chatter erupted behind me, and I realized that I understood every word they said. Since I was on a different world, I would have thought the people would speak a language other than English.

  “Why do I understand their language?” I asked Nyvea. “Or does everyone on Agreon speak English?”

  “Barodan’s enchantments are powerful,” she told me. “You can read and speak with them because of the tattoos.”

  It made sense. If Barodan sent me to this world to kill dragons, I’d be no good to him if I couldn’t understand the language. If only there was a way he could do that for all the languages back home; it would be cool to travel the world easily once I got back to Earth.

  The farmland stretched for miles in every direction, but I noticed the road I traveled descended into a valley. I crossed the valley and followed the wagon up the muddy road that led to the broad avenue toward Whitespire. As I climbed the hill, I had plenty of time to study the amazing city.

  A solid thirty-foot wall of dark gray stone ran around the perimeter, and it hid most of the city within from view. However, I caught sight of hundreds of the tall, white spires that had doubtless given the city its name. Above it all, sitting atop a hill in the heart of the city, the palace of the king held court over the grand city. It was a huge, blocky building like the Palace of Versailles, like a white marble chateau crowned with four tipped points that rose high into the crystal blue sky.

  Crowds of people flowed in and out of the twenty-foot-tall gate into Whitespire. A steel portcullis that had to weigh a thousand pounds was raised, and the thick wooden doors were thrown open to greet visitors. It actually looked very welcoming, but the four men wearing chain mail and conical helmets studied me as I strode toward the gate.

  I looked down and realized how out of place I was wearing cargo pants, firefighter boots, and a T-shirt. The red-painted axe over my shoulder was the most ‘normal’ thing about me in this world, but the tool was much better crafted than what the farmers I had passed carried in their hands. If they caught a good look at my bundled turnout gear, it would be absolutely alien to them.

  “Any suggestions on how to talk my way past them?” I murmured to Nyvea.

  “Walk in like you own the place,” Nyvea said. “You’re the mighty hero that’s come to save their world, and you should act like it.”

  Somehow, that didn’t seem like the best choice. I certainly didn’t look like much of a hero right now, so I quickly came up with a story about coming to Whitespire looking for work, which seemed fairly plausible yet vague enough that I wouldn’t have to get into too much detail.

  Two of the guards rested their hands on the hilts of their swords, but they said nothing as I walked through the gate and into the city. I didn’t question my good luck at being allowed to enter without being interrogated. If I walked into any city on Earth looking as out of place, I would definitely have been stopped by cops.

  The city of Whitespire looked like an image of Fourteenth Century London or France. The buildings were tall and thin, with sharp-tipped spires that reached a full story above the rooftops they were built on. The architecture was decorative and colorful, with red clay roof tiles, whitewashed walls, and stained-glass images filling every window. It had a quaint, beautiful simplicity that reminded me of some of the old churches in Chicago.

  As I walked down the cobblestone streets, the sound of my clomping boots blended in with the noise of the active city. Wagon drivers yelled at slow-moving pedestrians, who yelled back at the drivers and the citizens walking around them. Merchants hawked their wares at full volume and filled the air with the many reasons why their fresh vegetables, bolts of silk, or handcrafted brass trinkets were the best on all of Iriador.

  The men, women, and children around me wore colorful clothes. The medieval tunics were cut in a simple style that hung below the waist and tucked into a belt. The women wore thick dresses with aprons on the front. So many shades of blues, reds, yellows, and purples filled the streets around me that it set my head swimming. The bright colors and loud sounds reminded me of the Christkindlmarket that filled Daley Plaza every year.

  But it was the smells that really grabbed my attention. Smoke rose from a row of braziers roasting venison, sausages, ribs, and big, juicy steaks large enough to make a grown man cry for mercy. The scent of fresh-baked bread wafted from a bakery ten yards up the road, and my mouth watered at the aromatic edge of herbs and garlic coming from one cart beside it. I watched the man carve a long strip of spicy-smelling meat from a spit, stuff it into a bun, smother it in some creamy sauce, and hand it to the lanky man next to me. My stomach gave a loud growl, and my mouth started to water.

  “Just ten pence, sir,” said the merchant, a bearded man with a stomach as big around as his spit of meat and a grin that would have made any dentist proud.

  “Shit. I don’t have any money,” I told him as I patted my pockets.

  His smile disappeared, and he waved me away. “Off with you, then. I can’t have you scaring away my customers with your desperation.”

  I bit back an angry reply and instead smiled and shrugged at the man before taking a step away.

  “You can always take someone’s money,” Nyvea purred. “Everyone here owes you for saving their lives. After all, you’re the only one who can stop the dragons.”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t killed any dragons y
et. They aren’t going to call me a hero until I prove it.”

  The marketplace around me bustled at a relaxed pace that contrasted sharply with the shopping malls and department stores of Earth. People walked with purpose but without hurry. They knew what they were going to do and did it, but without the rush that seemed to be so normal for people in the 21st Century.

  The sound of a massive bell washed over the marketplace, and I turned my eyes up to the source of the sound. The bell hung in a tower that stood high above the city atop the enormous palace of Whitespire, and its tone cut through the mummers of the crowd with a surprisingly soothing tone.

  The sight of the palace reminded me why I had come. I needed to talk to the king and offer my services in killing the dragon. Sure, it would sound a bit strange if I told him I came from another world, so I’d leave that bit out.

  “Do you think this will work?” I asked Nyvea. “If someone just walked up to you and said, ‘I’m super powerful and I’m going to kill a dragon with nothing but this axe and tattoo magic that I don’t totally understand yet,’ you’d think they were totally insane, wouldn’t you?”

  “Bah,” Nyvea said after hesitating for a brief moment. “You don’t understand how powerful you will soon be. If the king doesn’t give you what you want, just kill him and take it.”

  “Uhh, that’s not how I roll, Nyvea,” I said. “I don’t really take things from people just because they don’t want to give it to me.”

  “But they should, I’d give you whatever you asked of me. I would be soooooo grateful for the opportunity, Ethan.”

  “Okay,” I said as I tried to ignore the effect her words had on my libido. “I’m just going to try and see the King first. It might not work, but what the hell? Maybe he’ll give me another job.” I continued walking up the cobblestone street, away from the market and in the direction of the palace.