by Travis Perry
Another gent, about the same age and weight but over a hand-width shorter, rolls his eyes. “There’s no such thing as fire-breathing dragons.”
I’ve got to agree with him there, mostly. Until I see one for myself, those rumors from the south are just rumors.
“Then what do you think caused those claw marks and scorched the fleece?” This guy’s younger with longer, blond hair.
“How should I—”
I hold up my hand palm out. “Wait, wait. There are bodies left?”
“Well, yeah, there’s been a couple from the last two nights. It’s just not safe out there,” the tall, gangly one says.
“Show me.”
Luse points at the shepherd’s main spokesman. “Lead the way, Seth.”
The entire gathered mob trails behind Seth and Luse. I keep my seat on Ranger and follow along through the town, which hasn’t changed much, and out the southward side. I’m pleased to see they took my advice and cleared some of the trees and scrub brush for a half-kim all around the town. That’ll makes things harder for unwelcome visitors to do a quick raid and escape in the trees.
South of town, the brush and trees are less dense and dwindle to nothing about a kim out. The ground drops off about that fast, leaving the rise for marshy lowlands. At the edge of the level ground, a sheepfold of rock and wood with a good shelter at one end encloses an impressively large collection of sheep and goats in a motley assortment of brown, gray, black, and white. They’re stocky sorts and bigger than the mountain varieties I’ve seen. I’m told it’s the hyperbaric air down here that causes animals to be bigger than they are up high. Anyhow, the sheep look fine to me. There are three shepherds standing watch, a tent is set up for the night watch, and the paddock is in good shape, so I can’t see what all this fuss is about.
Seth veers off to the east, and the whole mob follows with me bringing up the rear. We go a ways, and Ranger starts getting twitchy. I can make him mind to a point, but if something up there’s getting him spooked, I’d as soon not push it. Much as I’d rather stay on horseback, I dismount and loop the reins over a convenient tree branch.
I continue on foot a few dozen steps before I catch a good whiff of what spooked my horse. There’s meat rotting nearby. Many of the villagers slow and form clusters until only me, Luse, and Seth are left. We go up a rise, and that’s when I spot the carcasses hidden behind some brush.
For the most part, the carcasses are intact. No bites taken out of them, no missing limbs. The fleece is badly scorched, and there are claw marks on the flanks, sure, but what predator, outside of trophy-hunting men goes through the bother of killing prey and then not eating it?
Seth stops and gestures to the dead sheep. “See? Dragons! Fire-breathing dragons!”
“Maybe.” I take a few steps closer and lean over with my hands on my knees.
“Maybe? What more proof do you need?” Seth hollers.
“Calm down, Seth. Let the man look,” Luse says.
So I look and try not to breathe much. The claw marks come in sets of four with a fifth one splayed way out to the side at a different angle. The scorched fleece on two of them is only on the surface. There’s perfectly good wool closer to the skin. That seems wrong, but maybe these two were wet.
I press my lips together and think back to my last encounter with a dragon. I been from one end of the Chryse Planitia to the other and all the way up to the top of the mons. I even spent some time in dragon country helping other riders put some bandits in their rightful places. One of the riders I was with fought a dragon away from the horses and took a swipe across the leg for his troubles. Five claw marks, all parallel, but with staggered starting points and ending points. I suppose if there is a different sort of dragon than the acid spitters, they might have a different body arrangement, but really, this whole situation smells like dead sheep.
Swiping flies away from my face, I stand up. “Anyone actually seen this dragon?”
“No, but isn’t that proof enough?” Seth goes red in the face.
“Now don’t get all bothered. I’m just asking is all.” I wait a moment while Seth tries to stare a hole through my head. “If no one’s seen them, how are they getting the sheep? You set a watch on the sheep at night, don’t you?”
“Course we do, but there are a couple hundred head. Sometimes one or two get away from us while we’re rounding them up for the night.”
That’s nothing but pure incompetence. My uncle was a shepherd. He could call the sheep just like they were hounds, and they knew his voice. As they entered the gate, he did a head count. His job wasn’t done until he’d accounted for every ewe, lamb, and ram in the flock.
Seth goes on, “Normally, that’s not a problem. We find them the next morning. Now if one of them gets away, the dragon gets an easy meal.”
“They make it through the night without freezing to death?”
“Yes. These are the lowlands, after all. And sheep got their wool—say, don’t you care a dragon is eating our sheep?”
“Only he’s not eating them.” I glance back at the dead sheep. “You noticed that, right?”
“So something’s scaring it off before it eats the kill.” Seth glares.
“Like what? What do you have out here brazen enough to take on a dragon?”
Luse scratches his chin. “Falcon, maybe. We get falcons big enough to ride out here.”
That’s possible, actually. I’ve seen a lowland falcon fight a small dragon over a meal, though a big dragon would hunt a falcon, but even if the falcon won the match, why is the kill still uneaten? I got a suspicion that something foul is going on here.
Seth fumes, and this conversation’s not going to get me anywhere I need to go. I walk past Luse and Seth and head back for the tree where I left Ranger. The other two follow. Soon as we come in sight of the villagers, they start grouping up again and coming forward. That old queasiness in my gut comes back, and I turn to pass them at an angle. No such luck. They turn with me. Once I’m up on higher ground, I stop and face them.
“So, we’re right aren’t we? It’s dragons. Isn’t it?” the sandy blond shepherd asks.
“Can’t rightly say.” I stop there. This isn’t the time to detail my suspicions. I think they’re smart enough to handle it, but the bandits might be near at hand, and if they know I’m onto them, they’ll pack up and move on before I can grab them.
“Every morning, we find the dead sheep closer and closer to the city,” the blond says, gesturing and trembling, all frantic and panicky. “Before long, they’ll be in the town. It’s not safe! It’s not safe!”
Another old man takes up the cry. “Just last night I seen flashes of fire.”
A woman with long, dark hair clings to the fellow nearest her. “Can you hunt these dragons down, rider?”
“Oh, like he can do anything. A fire-breathing dragon against an old rider who doesn’t even have real armor?” Seth points at me.
I look down at my leather doublet and breeches. No, I don’t generally wear plate armor like most riders. Putting that stuff on takes four hands, and I’ve only got two, but some good leather, that I can manage myself, and it’s better for the hot weather and sufficient for most of the situations I find myself in.
“I’ll get to the bottom of this.” I pray to God that I can, but I’m suspecting that I’ll get to the end of this and find no dragons, at least no four-footed lizard ones. “In the meantime, make sure you get all your sheep in that pen and set up a good, strong guard.”
“What are you going to be doing?” Luse asks.
“Setting up my campment.”
“What? We have fire-breathing dragons killing our livestock and you’re going to set up a tent?” Seth demands.
“Yep. Night’s coming, and I’d rather get set up while I still have light to see. Plenty of time to hunt dragons later. I suggest you gather your sheep, figure out your watch, and get some food in your belly.” I turn away and fetch Ranger, leaving the villagers to sort out thei
r own night watch and sheep roundup.
Most of the locals group up and start arguing about who’s going to do what, but that’s Luse’s problem. They wouldn’t like my solutions, anyway.
As I’m heading away from the group, I turn to ride along the base of the rise that Lanatae sits on. That’s when I spot someone following me. It’s that old fellow who says he saw flashes of light. Can’t imagine why he’d be following me, but I made no efforts to hide my campment, so I don’t see how it matters much.
When I get to my temporary home, I dismount. The old man stands still for a moment, then turns and walks away.
Yeah, I’m camping right here. Now you can go tell Luse and Seth and everyone else that I didn’t leave town.
By the time I get the rest of my gear set up or stowed away, the sun’s down on the horizon, and by the time I’ve heated up some salt pork and made some biscuits, the sun’s gone and the evening chill is creeping in. The temperature drops soon as the sun’s down and makes it to the freezing point of water a few hours later. Normally, I’d be warm in my bedroll by now, but not tonight. I want to do some midnight prowling of my own.
Bundled up and armored as well as I can be, I step out of the tent and quickly seal it back up to keep in the warmth. The night stars give me some light, and Phobos is on its nightly trek eastward across the sky. Deimos is coming much more slowly across from the other direction. I stand still and give my eyes time to adjust to the dimness while my breath fogs in the air.
While I’m surveying the landscape, a dull, roaring sound carries in the still air and little flashes of light come from the brush to my right. Once reasonably sure of my vision, I draw my sword, a good bronze one I keep polished and sharpened as well as I can, and make toward the flashes.
One thing’s for sure. That’s not a fire-breathing dragon. There’s no way a lizard can be this active in the dark. It’s too cold, and even reptiles the size of dragons don’t take to the cold well.
That leaves my other theory, and the two-legged variety can be just as dangerous, perhaps even more so, than the four-legged kind.
I start getting the shakes. Always happens when I’m getting ready for a fight. As I walk, watching my step on the half-frozen wet ground, I blow out a breath. When I reach the trees, I slow, stepping quietly as I can while I get a bearing on the flashes. Very little starlight and moonlight make it through the trees, but by now my eyes are adjusted enough to make out basic shapes. The flashes are coming from one source straight ahead, so I adjust my path to come up from the side. As I come nearer, those flashes are clearly spurts of fire, but when the flash ends, there’s a tiny flame, like a candle, left behind.
Cracks and splashes come from multiple directions, and I get the feeling coming in here alone was dumber than a field mouse walking into a lion’s den. I back away, keeping my head on a swivel. The flashes are still in front of me, but the other sounds are to both sides and getting closer.
A low, heavy form jumps at me from the right; I turn, slashing with my sword while I step to the side. There’s some resistance, but not enough to suggest I hit it hard enough to take it down. Something clawlike rakes across my back, but there’s no sting of pain. I retreat up the hill and into the open area around the village. I’m sweating in spite of the cold and waiting for my attackers to come out of the trees, but they’re shy and I have no interest in chasing them down when I can’t see.
Soon after, the flame spurts stop and the whole area goes quiet. I stay still, watching and listening until the cold air gives me the chills. I need to get back into a warm tent and out of my sweat-dampened clothes before it freezes and I catch something and get laid up for longer than I want to be here. I head for camp, bronze sword in hand and still searching the tree line for more “dragon” sign.
Once inside my fire-warmed tent, I feel calmer, safer, but that’s idiot thinking. A few layers of heavy canvas will do just about nothing to stop someone or something determined to come in. The jitters subside as I take off my armor and trade my damp clothes for dry ones. My doublet has five new creases that match the marks I saw on the sheep this afternoon. Apparently, I found those dragons, and the one that jumped me didn’t look much like a lizard. True, I saw little more than a dark outline, but I’ve seen dragons, and that was no dragon. Not like any I’ve ever seen anyway. No wings, for one thing, and an attacking dragon will have its wings flared a bit to make him look bigger. I think back through the rumors of the fire-breathers. No mention of whether they have wings or not.
After laying my clothes out to dry, I slip into my bedroll and replay the events in my mind. What is it? Wingless dragons that can stand the nighttime cold? Bandits playing at dragons? Neither one makes much sense. What’s their game? They’re not after some cheap mutton. The dead sheep are left to rot. Is this some kind of protection racket in the making or an infestation of giant lizards with something that makes them tolerate the cold?
Whatever it is, I’d better get to the end of it real quick. My arrival might make them do something rash. That could work to my advantage if they make a mistake, or it could get someone killed. I’m still making plans about how to approach the problem when I doze off.
I’m up with the sun, as usual. Warm enough in my bedroll, but I can’t stay bundled up until the temperatures improve. There are things to do. I dress quickly and layer my clothes so I can adjust to the day’s temperatures.
Ranger passed the night well in his own tent. After a drink from the stream, I secure him where he’s got some good wetland grass to eat and head back to the trees where I encountered the “dragons” last night. The marshy ground should have captured some footprints, and I’d wager a full month at the top of Olympus that none of those prints have anything like the five distinct toes of a dragon.
Long before I get to the trees, Seth, Luse, and a couple other gents from the village make to intercept my path, and the scowl on their faces suggests they aren’t in an agreeable mood. I greet them with a friendly wave and continue on my way. Maybe if I give the impression of a man on a mission, they’ll go do something else, and maybe if I wave a handful of falcon feathers with each hand I’ll fly. One’s as likely as the other.
“Rider!” Seth rushes on ahead. “I want a word with you!”
Yeah, I figured that. Somehow last night’s attack just became my fault, right?
I stop and turn toward them but hold my own ground. Better if the confrontation is out here in the open. No one can come up behind me using trees and brush for cover that way. Behind the approaching envoy, other villagers are gathering but keeping their distance.
Seth storms ahead of the others but stops when my hand drifts down to my sword.
“Your idea didn’t work.” He jabs his skinny finger at me.
“Then try your better one tonight.”
He talks right over me and keeps going. “The dragons came closer to the town than ever before! Next thing you know, they’ll be in the village itself threatening our families and homes!”
“And you see that as my fault? Didn’t you tell me last night that the dragons were getting closer to town with each attack?” I ask.
“Get out of here, rider, before your next brilliant idea gets someone killed.”
I turn to Luse. “That what you want, mayor? You know me. I don’t stay where I’m not wanted. You want to handle this yourself, fine by me.”
Seth looks to the other men with him. “What do you say, Joel? You just got married. Is it worth risking your new family over? Zechariah? You want your wife up worrying half the night again?”
Zechariah, an old man well past his prime, shakes his head. “No, no, don’t want anymore of that.”
Joel, Seth’s sandy-haired sidekick, is holding his arm at a funny angle. Not unnatural or anything, but either he pulled a muscle or it was him I swiped last night and he’s favoring an injury.
Finally, after a little more encouragement from Seth, Luse sighs. “Probably best you go, rider.”
“If th
at’s what you want.”
After backing a few steps away, I return to where I spent the night and commence to striking my campment. As much as I travel, I have the whole process worked out to a science. There’s no wasted motion, no backtracking, no extra steps. Even an audience of Zechariah makes no difference. In short order, Ranger’s saddled and packed, and I’ve got my own kit on my back. I swing up into the saddle and head on down the road, passing through Lanatae and out the other side.
As soon as I’m hidden by the trees, I turn off the road. Using the trees for cover, I circle my way back around to the north. It’s true that I don’t stay where I’m not wanted, but that don’t mean I shirk my duties. I’m as certain that there are bandits involved here as I am that Phobos the Rebel crosses the sky backwards from every other object in the sky.
I’m about to cross back over the road on the north side of town when I hear wagon wheels. I dismount and lead Ranger back further into the brush. Last thing I want is someone spotting me. A large covered wagon drawn by a single, swayback horse passes me on the road. The wagon is painted up with the words “Owen Ellyot, Pervayer of Antikwities from the Time of Majic. You, two, will be amassed.”
Now the Brotherhood saw to it I learned to read and write, so I find the sign pretty funny. Maybe if I run into him later, I’ll help him with his spelling. Once Owen Ellyot is out of sight, I dart across the road.
North of Lanatae, I find a spot for Ranger where he’s got some good forage and some trees to block him from view before I set about making myself look less like Circuit Rider Dannel Canterel. My armor goes on under my gray-green shirt, and I fish out a floppy, wide-brimmed hat instead of my more useful helmet. The brim will hide my face well enough if I’m careful to keep my head down. I continue on foot and creep toward Lanatae. The slow pace doesn’t help my nerves much, but I what I don’t need haste tipping my hand too soon.
As I get closer to town, I watch for tracks more closely. The marshy ground did a good job of gathering footprints, and I find plenty of human ones and sheep in abundance, but lizard? Not one. If I needed any confirmation about the real goings on around here, that’s enough for me. I don’t know why some group of rascals is spooking the locals, but I know there are some. Would it be too suspicious of me to suspect Seth’s playing along with whoever’s involved? I figure that’s reasonable enough, but I can’t accuse a man without real proof.