by Scott Bury
… his dagger. The dragon roared, revealing row after row of knife-like teeth. It saw him. Javor took his dagger in an underhand grip as the dragon’s head came nearer, jaws parting and long forked tongue flicking. He jumped and slashed downward, aiming at the fiery eye—and missed. Instead, the point of the dagger dug into the dragon’s snout. He pushed and dug it in. The dragon roared even louder and snatched its head back. The dagger sliced off a long strip of snout and Javor dodged as a gobbet of spit dripped from the jaw.
The dragon roared in agony, but now it could see Javor and his dagger bright as icicles in winter sun. High above Javor, its head wavered on its long neck. It reached out a claw and grabbed its assailant, the first thing to cause it pain in its millennia-long life.
Bright white light flashed all around, illuminating the dragon’s head with the hideous red gash. Javor slashed at the claw with the dagger, drawing more blood, and the thing released him. He slashed again, but it was pulling away, retreating. There was another white flash, and the dragon spun, faster than Javor could ever have imagined anything that big could move. He thought then of the monster Ghastog and its hellish speed. The dragon ran two steps and flapped its wings and the gust nearly knocked Javor off his feet.
In one fluid movement, the dragon jumped, flapped its wings and as it rose off the ground snatched at someone. Javor recognized the bulbous nose of Czibor’s skinny daughter, and then the dragon was aloft. Arrows and spears clattered against it, but soon it was out of their range, and soon out of their sight in the blackness of the moonless night. The screams of Czibor’s daughter echoed over the roar of fire and wind.
Javor realized that Photius was standing beside him. His staff was glowing white, and he suddenly understood it had been the source of the white flashes. He must have been using some kind of spell. Is that why the dragon let me go, or was it the knife? Or the amulet?
“Your amulet kept you from harm,” said Photius, staring up at the sky where the dragon had disappeared. “I do not know whether it attacked here because it was specifically hunting down these refugees, but it certainly seems to have been targeting them lately. But when it was here, it seemed to be hunting for something it didn’t see.
“And it didn’t see you, Janus. But it did see your great-grandfather’s dagger. I don’t think it was prepared to face both that and white magic at once.”
Javor felt his knees shaking, but then anger churned his stomach. A burning jumped up in his belly. “We have to go after it,” he was surprised to hear himself say. “We have to save that girl.”
“What?” said Photius. But then Valgus strode up, helmet plumes waving. “Well done, Janus! You continue to surprise me! You have turned out to be remarkably useful in a fight that I thought unwinnable.” He directed soldiers to douse the fires and tend the wounded. Legionnaires started lining up their fellows’ bodies in the courtyard. Javor was shocked to see how many Romans had died, how many had lost limbs. The soldiers dragged the dead civilians into another line; their remains were even more gruesome.
Javor vomited into the dust, stomach heaving over and over. When he closed his eyes, he could see the dragon’s head up close again, the red light of its eyes dragging him in, its burning stench in his nostrils. He vomited again and again until his stomach was empty and he was spitting blood.
A legionnaire led him to his bed and covered him with a blanket. And after some time, he fell into a sleep disturbed by dreams of his mother, who was running from something and trying to tell him something at the same time.
Chapter 16: To kill a dragon
“You must chase it. You must save girl, Veca,” said Zdravko in his halting Greek. He was frantic, pacing across the Legate’s hall, hands waving.
Javor wanted him to shut up. He had felt sick since the dragon had flown away the night before. Nausea and anger combined into a hard nut in his belly.
“I am sorry, but she is dead already,” Photius replied. “If the dragon didn’t kill her when it picked her up, the fear would have finished her off by the time it got to its destination with her.”
“We not know that! She was living when I see her last! I hear scream!”
Javor exploded. “Never mind her, it has Danisa, too! Even if we don’t go after that stupid girl, we have to rescue our own!”
“Now, Javor, I’m sorry, but …” Photius sputtered.
“I agree,” Valgus interrupted. “With both of you.” He was standing in the centre of a beam of sunlight. He looked like he was glowing. He was calm, serious, and dressed in a perfect uniform.
“Doubtless, the girls are dead,” he continued. “That monster tore through veteran legionnaires like butter. But we must pursue this monster and destroy it. It has dared to attack an Imperial fortress! Not only is that an affront that cannot be tolerated or forgiven, it would symbolize the impotence of the Empire if we did not retaliate. For our own protection and that of the Empire, not only against this—this dragon, but against barbarians who might hear of this event, we must strike back and eliminate this threat once and for all.”
Javor, Photius, Valgus, Meridius and, as the representative of the refugees, Zdravko, were gathered around a long table in the Roman hall. Morning light streamed in the open windows. Birds sang occasionally, chickens clucked, but the fort had returned to its accustomed scared hush.
“Now, Janus, here, has shown us that it is possible to hurt the dragon. And Photius has shown some special abilities as well, some weapons that he won’t tell me about, but which I saw help convince our reptilian enemy to quit the battle. Nothing else worked! My bravest legionnaires gave it their all, and many of them fell without so much as scratching its hide! No, but you two, arriving so fortuitously just prior to the dragon’s attack, you knew exactly what to do. Lightning from a stick that you described as a walking staff! And a knife that you had kept hidden, the only weapon to penetrate the dragon’s scales! Very lucky for us, indeed.”
Javor suddenly was aware of the number of fully armed legionnaires guarding the doors and the stairs and most of the windows. Is he accusing us? Threatening us?
“What do you want of us, lord legate?” Photius asked quietly.
“Tell me what you know about dragons, especially about this one,” said Valgus, leaning on the table, forearms bulging. “And tell me more valuable information than you did when you arrived. ‘Every race has legends of dragons,’ my ass!” he shouted.
Photius got to his feet. “Very well, my lord. I did not lie when I told you that dragons are powerful, and ancient, and native to all lands—”
“No, you didn’t lie. You just told me nothing I didn’t already know!”
“—yes, and this is key to understanding them. There are many, many dragons, and many different kinds of dragons, as well.” Javor sighed: he recognized the openings of a Photius lecture. “The first dragons were the original children of the earth and thus the race is the oldest in the world. And they are necessary to life. They are the source and the guardians of fertility and wisdom.”
“If they are so wise and benevolent, then why did this one attack my fort? And for that matter, the people all around here? And so many others?”
“That is unclear, my lord legate. As I said, there seem to be many different kinds of dragons. There are old stories, stories which many in my order have found credible, of dragons helping man very long ago start to plant crops, dragons passing on great amounts of wisdom to men. And there are other stories,” he continued before the Roman could interrupt, “of dragons stealing gold and other treasures and hoarding it in great caverns in mountain ranges, particularly in the north. They are very jealous of their hordes and there are many stories of how dragons hunted down and killed anyone with the temerity to steal the smallest bauble. There are stories of how dragons have destroyed entire towns because of one fool’s effrontery.”
“Is that what happened here?”
“Why don’t you ask Zdravko?”
“What!” Zdravko was shocked as the
whole room’s attention swung to him. “No, no, I no steal from the dragon, I swear!”
“Calm down, Zdravko,” Photius said. “Tell the legate the story you told us yesterday, about the young man who stole the golden cup from the dragon.”
“That was old story!” Zdravko protested, pushing away from the table. His eyes darted fearfully between Photius, Valgus and the armed men at the doors. “Just story for little children! Old lady told me, long time ago! Not true story, just story!”
“What are the two of you babbling about?” Valgus growled.
“Allow me to repeat what I remember,” Photius said irritatingly. “Zdravko told us how there is an old tale in his village from long, long ago. How a young man with no means of his own wanted so much to marry the chief’s daughter that he went off looking for treasure. He wandered into the mountains and found the cave of a sleeping dragon, a cave filled with wondrous treasure. He took a single cup as a present to his hoped-for father-in-law. But the dragon woke, noticed his cup was missing, and came out to get it back. It burned the mountainside with its breath. Then it came to the village and killed a number of villagers, including the chief’s daughter in front of her suitor, and then killed the thief.” Photius turned to Zdravko. “That was the gist of it. Am I correct, Zdravko?” Zdravko hesitated, then nodded.
“So what?” Valgus demanded.
“So I think that Zdravko, or someone in his community, can help us find this cave.”
Valgus glared at Zdravko, and to the villager it seemed he was looking up a great height to the legate. “Can you? Can you find the beast’s home?”
“I, I, I no can. Maybe someone in village can. You rescue Veca?”
“If we can. If she’s alive. And yes, Danisa, too. If not, we can try to bring back her remains. I’m sorry, but we have to be realistic. You understand, she’s probably dead already.
“And I have lost many brave men. Seventeen legionnaires dead last night! And more wounded, more who won’t live the rest of the day. But this monster has to be stopped.”
“You realize this is a trap, Valgus,” said Meridius. “The dragon wants to draw you to its own territory. It took the girls for bait.”
“Agreed. So we must prepare. We need as much knowledge as we can get. We must know about dragons, about the territory, and we need to use that knowledge. Tell me, wise man,” he turned to Photius, “how does one kill a dragon?”
“There is only one way: from underneath,” Photius answered. “You have to slit open its belly and sever its heart.”
Valgus nodded. “Very well. Janus, that will be your job, with your special knife.”
“What! Why do I have to do that part?”
“Because you can,” said Valgus, coming up close and staring directly into Javor’s eyes. “Believe me, I am suspicious of you and your friend. You show up days before a dragon attacks, and you alone are impervious to it. My best warriors it cut down like grass. Yet you wounded it and drove it away. Somehow, you are connected to it, but you are also the only hope we have of killing it.”
Javor had never felt so isolated in his life as in that moment.
They were ready the next morning. The sun rose, but they couldn’t see it. Heavy dark clouds filled the sky. There was no wind, and the air was heavy.
Javor stood beside a saddled and armoured horse, wondering what to do. At Valgus’ order, he and Photius and 50 cataphracti had gathered, ready to ride at sunrise. The legionnaires were fully armoured and mounted on horses that wore coats of mail themselves. Javor was also wearing armour, the spoils from Ghastog’s cave. He had the sword he had taken from the Avar raiders that had attacked Bilavod, and showing on his other hip, his grandfather’s long dagger. But the amulet he kept out of sight, against his chest.
The legionnaires jumped easily into their mounts. Javor had never ridden on a horse before. Horses were a luxury that the Sklavenic villages seldom had. So Javor stood beside the horse, wondering how he would get up.
Antonio the boxer came up in full armour, with a new red scar across his face to go with his smashed nose. He grinned toothlessly. “Need a hand up?” Javor nodded, embarrassed. Antonio laced his fingers together as a step and hoisted Javor so that he could get his leg over the horse’s back. He clung to its neck, terrified of sliding off.
A horse cantered up beside him, carrying a Photius who looked very much at ease. “Hold on with you knees, lad. Relax and you’ll find yourself much more secure in the saddle.” Javor was very aware of the cataphracti who looked at him with indulgent smiles. Danisa, he thought. I’m coming for you. If you’re still alive.
Javor felt sick when he thought they had waited a full day before going after the dragon and trying to rescue Danisa and Veca, the girl it took. But he had to admit that he hadn’t actually seen the dragon take Danisa away. He hadn’t even realized she was gone until the next morning.
No matter how much he had argued and urged an immediate rescue attempt, Valgus refused to leave until his men were completely ready for war. The fort was filled with sound and action as men repaired armour and weapons, packed food and tended horses. Only after a short night’s sleep did the Legate express his satisfaction that the Legion was ready to face a dragon.
Sitting on the same horse with Zdravko was an old man Javor did not recognize. They both looked miserable. “This man Volos,” said Zdravko. “He is oldest man in our village. He maybe knows way to cave. If it is real. Maybe.” The old man said nothing, just sat trembling on the horse.
Valgus was still on the ground, talking to a rider who didn’t seem as heavily armoured as the rest. The man nodded, saluted, and then the horse sprang forward and galloped at full speed out of the gates and down the road, heading south.
A squire brought a beautiful white horse, covered in silver plate on its head and a mail blanket. Valgus sprang into the saddle with seemingly no effort at all. Photius cantered over to him, and for some reason, Javor’s horse followed.
“Hail, commander,” said Photius. “Was that man a scout?”
“No, a messenger. I have sent him to Drobeta to ask for reinforcements. I lost too many brave legionnaires to the dragon—sixty a year ago, and 17 two nights ago. And now I am taking another 50 probably to their doom. This fortress cannot stand such losses without reinforcements.
“Come—it is time for us to move out, too.” He signalled, and the troop, with Photius, Javor, Zdravko and Volos, left the gates under a brooding sky. Valgus led; beside him a man on another white horse carried a bronze staff with the legion’s standard, which drooped sadly in the heavy air. Zdravko and Volos rode beside Valgus to lead the way to their village.
Javor jostled in the saddle until Antonio came up beside him and gave him a few tips that settled him in. Still, he was uncomfortable.
They rode for hours, stopping occasionally to rest the horses, drink water and adjust their armour. All Javor could think about was Danisa, Danisa, please don’t be dead. I’m coming for you. That, and not falling off the horse. He had no idea horses were so slippery.
On one break, Photius took Javor away from the others.
“You realize that is not the same dragon that has been pursuing us, Javor.”
“You mean we’ve got to kill two dragons!”
“Probably not at the same time. I have never heard of two dragons working in concert before. But didn’t you notice that the dragon that attacked the fortress was different from the one you’ve faced three times already? Didn’t you notice that both its front claws were intact? That this one was twice as big as the other? That they’re different colours?”
Javor had to admit his lack of attention. “The dragon has been in this area for years. It has come out of hiding because it wants something,” said Photius.
“What does it want?”
“What is new in this region? You, of course.”
“Me?”
“Something attracted the dragon to the fort, and something drew it here. I don’t know if these people disturbed
it in its lair at some point, but that doesn’t really matter. The supernatural beings have all been drawn by the power that surrounds you, which may come from your grandfather’s treasures. The amulet shields you from direct detection, but they sense a power.
“When you attacked the dragon with that spear, it clearly did not see you until you brought out the dagger. And that was only because, I believe, at that proximity the power of the dagger outweighed the amulet’s ability to hide you.
“Our route to this village takes us not far from the path we followed to get here in the first place. I think that the power of your dagger and amulet stirred the dragon from its sleep when we passed. Zdravko’s village was just unlucky enough to be in the way. It did not follow them to the fort: it followed the scent of power from you.”
“Is that why it took Danisa?”
“Doubtlessly, it took Danisa as an irresistible lure for you. It knows that you would have to come to rescue her. I think that’s why it took the barbarian girl, Veca, as well—it probably cannot distinguish between them. So it took both, to be sure.”
“I thought you said dragons are wise.”
“The dragons of old are. I do not think this is a very old dragon—at least, not like the ancient original dragons. But do not underestimate it, Javor. It is a very smart beast more than capable of killing us all in an instant.”
A centurion bellowed, and they all remounted. As they rode up hills, Valgus paused, letting the men go past until he was riding beside Photius and Javor. “What does your knowledge of dragons tell you about this region, wise Photius?”
“Nothing specific, I’m afraid. Dragons seem to favour mountainous areas, perhaps because of their affinity for caves. They are children of the earth and seem to crave returning to the womb, as it were. And this region, north of the Danuvius, has long had a haunted reputation. Some say that is why the Empire could not hold it.”