Dragon Slayer

by Michael-Scott Earle

  “Well fuck her!” I shouted, and anger burned in my chest. “There’s no way I’m letting her destroy this town.”

  “What can you do to stop her?” Arieste demanded. “You may be powerful, but—”

  “Whitespire has defenses that can bring down a dragon,” I said. “The White Guard have to be taking up position now, and I’m going to go help them.”

  “What about the ice weapons?” Nyvea asked. “Surely those would give you an edge.”

  “Fuck, yeah.” I turned my gaze on Arieste. “I’ll help the White Guards, but first I’m going to the armory.”

  “The weapons from my hoard,” Arieste said with a nod. “Good thinking. We’ll need them to hold Riamod off.”

  “We?” I asked. “No way I’m letting you put yourself in danger, Arieste. I know you’re used to being powerful, but your magic’s gone. You’ll be—”

  My voice trailed off and my eyes went wide as Arieste held up her hand, and a thin coating of ice appeared around her fingers. I stiffened and reached instinctively for my axe, but I had left it in my room.

  “I am changed,” she told me in a quiet voice. “But I have a fraction of my magic still. I will use it to help you, Ethan.”

  I studied her, and suspicion flared in my mind. How long had she known her powers weren’t really gone? And why had she just revealed the truth to me? She could have used those powers to kill me or simply flee. With even a small amount of ice magic in her veins, she could have survived in her frozen land or escaped to a less-settled part of Whitespire. She could have gone some place where I’d never find her. Yet she had stayed. But why?

  “I can see by the look in your eyes that you are deciding how much you can trust me. Well know this, Ethan DePaolo: I swore to serve you. You did the honorable thing by letting me live, protecting me, and bringing me here to Whitespire. Even if I did not wish it at first, I understand you were trying to do what is right for your kind.” A shadow passed over her eyes. “It is only fair that I try to make up for it by aiding you in your quest. That is why I remained when I could have fled. After last night, I am further committed to you.”

  “She’s in love with your cock. I knew it,” Nyvea giggled, but I ignored her.

  Arieste’s expression was so open and earnest, it was like seeing a whole new woman. The hard-eyed frost queen had fled and was replaced by a strong woman who knew the truth of the world around her and felt the same fears that plagued every human. In that moment, I understood the truth about her. She, like me, like everyone else on Earth and Agreon, wanted to belong to something greater. She had chosen my quest as her path to redemption and fulfillment.

  “Stick close,” I told her before turning and running down the hall. The shrieks and cries grew louder as I rushed into the ballroom, and the marble walls and high-vaulted ceilings echoed the terror that filled the palace. But I felt no fear, only excitement, and a renewed sense of purpose as I raced toward the corridor that led out the side of the palace to the armory.

  “Puny humans!” A booming voice echoed from high above Whitespire. “Why do I sense the taint of Frosdar’s foul ice magic in your city? You conspire with that worm against me?”

  “To the roof!” cried a White Guard captain as he rushed up the stairs with a contingent of men in white breastplates and shining steel helmets.

  “For too long,” the dragon roared, “I have tolerated your presence on Iriador when I could have burned away every trace of you. But now you align yourselves with my enemy after you refuse to pay tribute to me? I will have what is owed me! If you will not pay in gold, I will settle for your city, and all of your lives with it.”

  An enormous whooshing sound filled the air above the palace, and the glass windows shattered as Riamod’s fire burst into the ballroom. Tendrils of red and yellow flame licked down the walls and consumed everything in their path. Tapestries crinkled and burned, wooden furniture caught alight, and silks worth a fortune burned to ash in seconds. A terrible heat suddenly filled the ballroom.

  “Come on!” Arieste shouted. “We’ve got six seconds before she can summon more fire.”

  I skidded to a halt and whirled to face her. All around me, terrified noblemen and servants rushed about in a desperate attempt to flee Riamod’s wrath. People fell and were trampled, and it was like a group madness had seized the citizens of Whitespire.

  “Arieste, help the people get out of here!” I pointed to the surrounding chaos. “If Riamod sends another blast of fire this way, everyone in the ballroom is going to die. We need to keep these people from panicking and get them moving in an orderly fashion.”

  My training as a firefighter had kicked in. Panicked people could become a frenzied mob, and casualties would be even higher if we didn’t get control of the situation.

  I grabbed a pair of passing White Guards. “We have to stop these people from freaking out. If we don’t get things under control, a lot of people are going to die.”

  “There’s a bloody dragon attacking the palace,” one of the White Guards said as he tried to shrug off my hand. “People are going to die unless we get to the roof and man the ballistas.”

  “No!” I gripped his arm so hard that I felt the steel armor bend beneath my fingers. “Someone has to keep these people alive. Your job is to protect the people of Whitespire.”

  “We don’t take orders from—”

  “I am the man who killed Frosdar!” I growled. “The more time I waste on your sorry ass, the longer it will be before I go and kick the shit out of Riamod. So, do you want to keep whining like a little bitch, or do you want to do your fucking job so I can do mine?”

  “Yes, sir!” The White Guard’s face hardened, and I let go of his arm so I could turn to Arieste.

  “Protect them. I’ll be back in two minutes with the ice weapons.”

  She nodded and, with the help of the White Guard, set about shouting commands to restore some semblance of order to the chaos that gripped the grand ballroom.

  I whirled and sprinted down the short corridor that led toward the armory. The building stood thirty yards away, separated from the palace by an open courtyard and stable where horses filled the night with their shrieks of terror.

  “Frosdar!” Riamod roared. “You cannot hide from me, you coward.”

  Wind buffeted me like a punch to the chest, and it took all my coordination to stay on my feet. I risked a glance upward. Riamod was circling low overhead, and I saw her bright yellow eyes fix on me as I ran in the middle of the courtyard. The dragon opened her mouth wide to reveal hundreds of long, sharp teeth, and my heart leapt up into my mouth. A red light glowed in the dragon’s throat, and a moment later a pillar of scorching fire spewed toward me.

  I threw myself to the side just in time to avoid the flames. The heat of Riamod’s fire singed the hair on my legs, and I felt the hem of my pants smoldering. But I had no time to worry about that. I had exactly six seconds to get into the armory, get the ice weapons, and get the fuck out before Riamod burned it to the ground.

  One.

  I pushed off with all the strength in my legs, and it felt like I was flying as I raced toward the armory.

  Two.

  The door was ten feet away, then five, then I burst into the armory with such force that the door cracked against the wall behind it.

  Three.

  I slid to a halt and scanned the darkness. I had no idea where Master Krastin had stored the ice weapons.

  Four.

  I caught a glimpse of my turnout gear folded neatly on the table beside the door, and I snatched it up as I raced farther into the armory.

  Five.

  There! The ice weapons were sitting on Master Krastin’s workbench, still bundled in the cloth. I had less than an instant to decide.

  Six.

  I dove toward the weapons, but even as I moved I knew I wouldn’t reach them in time.

  I heard the terrible whoosh from behind me, and a terrible light and heat filled the armory. Hours spent training with
Arieste kicked in, and I reached for the ice magic coursing through me. It felt like dunking my head into an icy river, but I seized the power and summoned it to form a shield of ice around me.

  Hot met cold as Riamod’s flames washed over me. The ice melted in a heartbeat, but I was already pouring more and more magic into holding the shield. I gritted my teeth against the effort of keeping the wall of ice between me and the pillar of fire.

  Then, as suddenly as it had come, the fire stopped. I was alive, and I had six more seconds before the fire came again.

  The moment I turned back to the ice weapons, I knew I wouldn’t need the time. Metal melted to slag, leather turned to ash, with a thick coat of black soot over it all. There was no trace of the ice weapons. Everything in the armory was simply gone.

  But not me, and not my turnout gear. I sprinted out the front door of the armory and crossed the distance back to the palace at a dead run. Riamod roared behind me, but I was surprised to hear a note of pain and irritation, so I guessed the White Guards had finally gotten the ballista firing at the dragon.

  When I burst back into the ballroom, I found myself engulfed in heat. The flames had spread from the tapestries and shelves to the carpets, tables, and chairs in the room. Everything was on fire, and a thick choking smoke filled the room.

  I caught a glimpse of Arieste at the far side of the ballroom. She stood with a trio of White Guards beside the door, and they were ushering the last of the fleeing people outside. I raced toward her and thrust the turnout gear into her hands.

  “Put this on!” I shouted. “It will protect you from the fire.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but I didn’t give her the time. Instead, I turned and sprinted up the staircase the White Guards had taken earlier. Between the turnout gear and what remained of her ice powers, she’d be fine. She had to be.

  I took the stairs two and three at a time, my boots pounding in time with my hammering heart. I tapped into the ice magic and used it to cool my body enough that I didn’t feel the surrounding heat. The second and third floors of the palace hadn’t yet caught fire, but even now I saw the first tongues of flame licking their way up carpets, tapestries, and furniture.

  The massive picture window behind me burst inward and a pillar of flame reached bright red fingers toward me. I poured on more speed and leapt up the stairs just ahead of the burning heat. Riamod was hunting Frosdar’s magic, but as long as she was concentrated on me, the White Guards and the rest of the people in the palace had a chance.

  The grand staircase led to smaller steps on the third floor of the palace. The stairs wound up and around, and I had to go slower to avoid banging my shoulders against the wall. My breath burned in my lungs, and I could feel my legs protesting from the effort, but I had to keep moving. The people of Whitespire were counting on me.

  Then I was out of the staircase and onto the flat roof of the palace. Twelve ballistas were mounted on the perimeter of the roof. Eight were manned by a trio of White Guards, but the other four were nothing but smoking and charred remains. I saw Adath helping a badly burned, screaming White Guard limp away from the corpses of his comrades, and I knew the red dragon had taken her vengeance on the ballistas that dared to hurt her.

  Riamod circled the roof of the palace, and even high in the air, I could see she was fucking huge. Maybe fifty percent larger than Frosdar, with a much longer tail, wider wings, and a more muscular chest. As the red dragon turned and dove toward me, I saw the hatred burning in her bright yellow eyes. Her mouth opened and another pillar of flame burst from her throat. I dove out of the path of the flames, but the men on one of the ballistas weren’t so lucky. Before they could bring the heavy steel-tipped bolt to bear on the speeding dragon, Riamod’s fire roasted them alive. They didn’t even have time to scream.

  Two ballistas answered the attack, and Riamod let out a roar of pain as one the bolts slammed into her right wing. The other bounced off the scales on her back harmlessly.

  “We have to do something, Nyvea!” I shouted.

  “The best you can do is stay alive, hero,” she replied, and I heard fear in her voice. “Without the ice weapons, there’s not much you can do to hurt it.”

  “But my ice powers—”

  “Aren’t going to do much right now,” Nyvea snapped. “There’s a reason Frosdar never defeated Riamod in their battles. Riamod’s fire is stronger than your ice, even if you were at your full power.”

  I ground my teeth but couldn’t argue with her. She knew magic far better than me, and I’d seen how much effect my ice magic had against her fire in the armory. I’d barely survived that attack.

  “I can’t just sit by and do nothing! I have to help.”

  “You’re powerful, but right now, you’re going to get yourself killed if you try to take Riamod in a head-to-head battle. You need to think smarter than--where the hell are you going?”

  “Do the dragons have any weak spots?” I asked Nyvea as I raced toward the east end of the roof. “Any gaps in their scales, anything at all?”

  “What the hell do you—” Nyvea started.

  “Damn it, Nyvea, do they or don’t they?” I shouted.

  After a moment of sullen silence, she responded. “The joint where the wing meets the dragon’s side is covered by thinner scales.”

  “Good enough!”

  I was surprised to find Grendis at one of the ballistas. He had abandoned his crutch but leaned on the massive wooden stock as he shouted orders to the two White Guards beside him.

  “Not that bolt, you idiot!” Grendis’ face blazed with anger. “The one with the short, square tip. The one designed for punching through armor.”

  “Grendis!” I called. “I need you to be ready to fire on the dragon.”

  “What the hell d’you think I’ve been doing?” he snarled.

  “I’m going to lure it in right over the rooftop,” I told him. “She’s going to come right for me, and I need you to be ready to put a bolt into her when she swoops down.” I raised my arm and tapped my ribs just below my armpit. “The scales here are thinner. Right where the wing meets the dragon’s side.”

  “And that’ll bring the bastard down?” Grendis demanded.

  “It’s all we’ve got!” I shouted.

  “Then it’s what we’ll bloody hit,” the Gray Hunter said with a nod.

  “Good luck,” I said, then turned and sprinted back across the rooftop as I scanned the night sky in search of Riamod. The fires of the burning palace illuminated the darkness, but the dragon was circling hundreds of yards over my head. I just had to wait until she was in the right position before getting her attention.

  Eventually, Riamod was on the eastern side of the palace, her eyes fixed on me.

  “Hey, fire rat!” I called out and waved my hands to get her attention. “Come and get me, if you dare.”

  With a roar, Riamod twisted into a dive and streaked through the air toward me. I had to admire the dragon’s grace. Despite her massive body, giant wings, and long head, she moved through the air with the ease of a feather floating on the wind. There was no doubt in my mind why dragons were apex predators. Add to that a dozen tons of body weight, near-impenetrable scales, claws, teeth, and the ability to breathe fire, and you had a killing machine that would have made any army on Earth quiver in their boots.

  “Maybe you can gawk later,” Nyvea shouted at me, “once we’ve killed the damned thing. It’ll still be a beautiful corpse.”

  “Right,” I said and continued my sprint. The rooftop was four hundred yards across, and I had already covered a third of that distance before getting Riamod’s attention. Her dive seemed to take forever as I raced to the west, and the edge of the roof loomed closer and closer with every step.

  I felt the rush of wind behind me and the low rumbling of Riamod’s mouth opening to breathe flame. In that moment, I leapt to the right, and the pillar of flame burned across the ground where I stood a second earlier. It was cut off by a roar of pain, and I heard a lo
ud crashing as Riamod’s bulk collided with the roof of the palace. The dragon’s wing ruffled the air as it passed two inches above my head, and I saw the awkward tilt of the monster’s body. The massive serpent let out a bellow that shook my ribs, and the beast twisted around in agony.

  Grendis’ bolt must have hit its mark, so I acted on instinct and reached out with both hands. My fingers closed on the leathery webbing of Riamod’s wings, and I was jerked off my feet as the dragon beat the air to try and take to the air again. The force of its flapping nearly tore the wing from my grip, but I gritted my teeth and held on for dear life.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Nyvea demanded.

  “If I can’t…kill the dragon…” I snarled through clenched teeth as I hung onto Riamod’s wing, “I’m going…to steal…its fucking power!”

  “That’s too risky!” Nyvea screamed in my ear. “You are crazy, that’s why I love you. But if you try--”

  “Watch me!” I interrupted her.

  Riamod’s wings beat the air fast and hard, and the force was shaking me like a ragdoll. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t hang on. I was flung free, my fingers torn from the webbing, and I flew high into the air. My heart froze as I hung in the dark sky for a long moment before gravity took hold of me once more and dragged me downward.

  My breath burst from my lungs as I slammed into Riamod’s ridged back. The dragon growled as it sensed my presence, and I clung to the spikes running up her spine as she rolled and whirled in an attempt to shake me free. The scales beneath my bare flesh were hot enough to burn, and pain raced through my chest, hands, and face from the heat.

  “Let go!” Nyvea cried.

  “No!” I shouted. “I’m going to get to that gemstone and use my siphon power to—”

  “It’s not going to work,” she shouted, and the fury in her voice set my head ringing. “You can only get the gemstone free once the thread to its altar is severed. The dragon is too far away for your power to do more than piss it off.”