Dragonslayer (The Dragonslayer)

by Duncan M. Hamilton

  She was surprised to see the Prince Bishop standing with dal Drezony and three magisters whom she had not yet met. Could his interest in her be that great? Other than those five, the hall was empty.

  Dal Drezony walked over to welcome her. “Are you ready?”

  Solène nodded, a flutter of nerves starting in her stomach.

  “You are allowed to pass these tests one at a time, which means that anything you can do today will count and will be a remarkable achievement considering you’ve only just arrived.”

  Solène nodded again. “I’m ready,” she said.

  “Good.” Dal Drezony turned back to the others. “We’ll begin with the spell of perpetuating illumination.”

  It took Solène a moment to understand what dal Drezony meant, but once she did, she relaxed. She recalled dal Drezony saying the Fount looked like a blue glow, and as soon as the thought popped into her head, everything around her was bathed in blue, coruscating light—something she had never seen before. For an instant, she wondered why that had happened at just that moment, then pushed the thought from her mind and focussed on her task. She smiled with satisfaction as the Fount disappeared, leaving in its wake the golden light of the small, glowing orb—the one she had created without a container.

  “What do I have to do next?” she said, turning to dal Drezony.

  Dal Drezony smiled, her gaze locked on the light. Solène realised that the other woman had started to count the moment Solène had started to speak. After a moment, dal Drezony’s smile grew wider.

  “That will be sufficient,” she said, then turned to the others. “I think we can consider that a pass?”

  The three magisters nodded in agreement. Two men and a woman, they stood huddled together in their cream robes; their expressions inscrutable. Solène wondered if they were surprised, frightened, or indifferent, then realised she didn’t care. She had seen and heard enough to know that the Prince Bishop’s opinion was the only one that really mattered. Unfortunately, he was equally unreadable, staring at the magical light, which still showed no signs of diminishing. There was something discomfiting about the way he looked at it, but Solène couldn’t put her finger on exactly what.

  “We’ve left out some objects,” dal Drezony said, gesturing. “For the levitation test, you must lift one—any one of your choosing—to a height no lower than your knee, and hold it there until I tell you to stop. You should try to keep it as motionless as you can.”

  Solène glanced at her light, which still shone brightly, boosting her confidence. Several dumbbells and weights of varying sizes had been laid out on the floor; she wondered if she should read anything into the selection. As soon as she focussed on her desire to lift, they all rose.

  Surprised, she nearly gasped, trying to conceal her reaction from the watchers. The objects juddered in mid-air and she had to fight to regain her concentration. She brought the weights up until they were level with her eyes, then held them perfectly still. She had only intended to lift one, and the fact that they had all moved unnerved her.

  While it was satisfying to have more power than she’d expected, the over-reach also indicated the lack of control dal Drezony had spoken of. At dal Drezony’s nod, Solène lowered the weights to the floor. She felt a little light-headed and had to take a step to steady herself, but she didn’t think anyone noticed.

  “It was only necessary to lift one, but we appreciate the demonstration of what you can do,” dal Drezony said. “Now, the third test. The push.”

  She drew Solène’s attention to a large burlap sack filled with some sort of bulky material. “This approximates the weight of an average-sized man. You need to push it back a minimum of three paces.”

  Solène concentrated on the sack. She thought of Arnoul, of his hands reaching for her, and with a cry, she hurled her will against the sack, blasting it across the floor more than twice the required distance. When she had composed herself, she was relieved to see that she hadn’t turned it into a pig.

  “The barrier next,” dal Drezony said.

  The others remained conspicuously silent, closely watching every move Solène made. She did her best to ignore them, but it wasn’t easy. This test gave her the most cause for concern. She had never attempted anything even close to creating any sort of “barrier” and had no idea where to start. She furrowed her brow. How did she do everything else? Desire seemed to be the key, and anything that made the desire stronger was a boon.

  Closing her eyes, Solène imagined herself in the clearing on the road to Mirabay when they had encountered the highwaymen. One of them was pointing his small crossbow at her. She visualised his finger on the trigger, starting to press, the lever starting to move, the tense string waiting to fire the bolt. Even as she imagined the click of the trigger and the thrum of the bowstring, she allowed her instinct for survival to guide her mind. Her heart quickened.

  “Impressive,” dal Drezony said. “I’ve not seen one so strong as to be physically visible before.”

  Solène opened her eyes. A glowing blue hemisphere surrounded her.

  “Your Grace, would you like to do the honours?” dal Drezony said.

  The Prince Bishop smiled, and nodded.

  “Maintain the shield now, Solène,” dal Drezony said.

  Panic flashed through her but Solène nodded. Would they actually do something like fire a quarrel at her? Would her shield stop it, or was it simply an illusion?

  The Prince Bishop walked forward, drawing the dagger from his belt. Reversing the weapon, he tapped the pommel on the shield. There was a dull thud at the impact and the glowing blue energy indented at the point of contact, as though the dagger pressed against something soft. He pressed harder, but the shield didn’t give. Solène’s heart raced; she willed the shield to hold with all she was worth.

  The Prince Bishop turned back to the others. “I can’t get through,” he said. “It’s absolutely solid.” He re-sheathed the dagger and returned to his earlier position. “Time for the final test,” he said.

  Relaxing, Solène released the shield. Her vision swam and it was all she could do to keep her balance. She forced a smile in dal Drezony’s direction, though she couldn’t really see the woman, just a blur. What was happening to her?

  “The final test,” dal Drezony said. “The stillness.” She called out for an attendant, who came into the hall carrying a wooden cage. When he set it on the floor and opened it, a startled chicken ran out. Solène’s vision had returned and she laughed when the animal dashed across as the floor. If she didn’t manage to complete this test, someone would have quite a job chasing it down.

  She thought about calming the chicken, with no effect. Changing her approach, she imagined it slowing down, as though it was wading through treacle. Gradually its movements became less frantic, until it moved as though it was getting sleepy and running out of energy. Solène realised everyone in the room was moving slowly. Dal Drezony was speaking, but her words were slurred and impossible to understand. Solène turned, intending to ask her to repeat herself, but the world grew dark and she fell to the floor.

  CHAPTER

  28

  Guillot was a sweaty mess by the time he reached the agreed-upon meeting spot near the entrance to the cavern. His undershirt was soaked through, his eyes stung, and his legs felt like jelly. The short time he had been wearing armour again had not been long enough to re-accustom him to it, nor was his fitness sufficient to carry the extra weight. He sat heavily on a large, flat rock near the others and prayed to any of the gods who would listen to help him recover quickly.

  “You’re looking a little worse for wear, Guillot,” dal Sason said in a whisper. “Are you all right?”

  Guillot cast him a sideways glance. Other than some extra colour to his cheeks, the banneret looked as though he had undertaken nothing more than a morning constitutional. The rest of them looked even fresher, and Guillot knew he couldn’t put it down to age—Leverre was at least five or six years older than he. Forced to ad
mit that he had been found wanting, he gave dal Sason a wry smile.

  “I’ve not been as diligent with my training these past few years. Didn’t expect to find myself on a dragon hunt. If I had, I’d have been sure to prepare.”

  “Brother Hallot will take care of that,” Leverre said, his whisper sounding raspy. He nodded toward Guillot, looking at Hallot, and the red-haired Spurrier scrambled over the loose rocks to reach them.

  “Try to relax,” Hallot said. He closed his eyes and held his hands out, palms only a hair’s breadth from Guillot’s body, but not touching.

  At first, Guillot felt nothing. Then—and it took a moment to be certain he was not imagining this—his heart slowed its pounding and his legs started to feel fresher. The stinging, gritty sensation around his eyes from a night of little sleep also disappeared. Soon he felt better than he could remember.

  “Well, that’s quite something,” Guillot said, when Hallot opened his eyes and drew back his hands. “Does it work on hangovers too?”

  Leverre let out a short laugh—the first time Guillot had heard him do so.

  “It works on anything,” Hallot said. “Comes in quite handy. Wish I’d been able to do it when I was at university, although you don’t seem to be able to do it to yourself for whatever reason.”

  “Enough reminiscing,” Leverre said, any vestige of good humour gone. “We need to get ready.”

  Leverre moved toward the cavern’s entrance, stepping carefully in an effort to be as quiet as possible. When he drew close, he got down on his belly and crawled forward until he could peer inside. He lay still for a moment, and Guillot’s heart quickened again as he wondered what the Spurrier might be seeing. As if in response, Leverre turned and silently mouthed the word “nothing.” Guillot did not know whether to be elated or disappointed, but the former seemed to be claiming the victory.

  “What do we do now?” dal Sason whispered.

  Guillot shrugged. “Wait until it comes home?”

  As he thought about it, lying in wait for the dragon somewhere was an attractive option. The element of surprise could tip the balance in their favour—if he discounted a great number of variables like potentially superior sight, smell, or hearing. The dragon might be able to hear the beating of his heart from miles away, for all he knew.

  “We should go in and take a look,” dal Sason said.

  Guillot shrugged again. He had to admit dal Sason was probably right; it was foolish to come all that way and not at least have a snoop around. Standing, he gave Hallot a nod of approval when he realised how good his legs felt. Not only was the fatigue gone, they felt good and strong, much as they had when he had trained hard on a daily basis. Perhaps there was something to be said for magic after all. He didn’t like the idea of men and women who could win battles with the power of their minds, or whatever they used, but healers who could do what Hallot had just done could change the world for the better. That much was undeniable.

  Following Leverre’s path, Guillot shuffled up beside the Brother-Commander at the edge of the entrance. Inside, he saw nothing but black, swirling darkness.

  “You said something about a back chamber,” Gill whispered. “Might it be resting in there?”

  Leverre nodded. “That was where it was when we were last here. Might be this time, too. We’ll need to be careful.”

  “What’ll we do for light?” Guillot said. “Lighting the place up will wake it for sure if it is back there.”

  “Close your eyes,” Leverre said. “This won’t last long—things will take on a greenish tinge when it starts to fail, so come to me when that happens and I’ll refresh it.”

  “Refresh what?”

  “Close. Your. Eyes.”

  Guillot did, and felt Leverre touch a finger to his forehead.

  “Open.”

  Guillot looked around the cavern in amazement. The interior of the cavern was covered in a coruscating blue glow. The walls themselves were the source of light, and although it was not bright, he could make out everything.

  “You weren’t lying when you said magic can make life easier, were you?” Guillot said.

  Leverre raised his hands and shrugged, then resumed studying the cave. Guillot did likewise, quickly spotting a partially stripped set of ribs amid a pile of other bones that he could not specifically identify. They looked human, though, and Guillot suspected they were the remains of Leverre’s previous command. He wondered how the man must feel to see them there, eaten and denied a proper funeral. If circumstances allowed, perhaps the dragon hunters would give the bodies a proper burial before returning home.

  He continued to survey the cavern, but other than the bones, saw nothing of note, or, more importantly, nothing that indicated danger. He realised the others had gathered behind him, and technically, he was the dragonslayer, so …

  “I’m going in for a closer look,” he whispered.

  Leverre nodded.

  Guillot tested his grip on the spear, then hauled himself over the cavern’s lip. He stood tall and took a deep breath before stepping forward into the beast’s lair. Everything he did felt like one of the old Silver Circle stories, and he had to fight to silence the narrator in his head, who recounted every move he made, even when he scratched his arse. He couldn’t quite see that making it into the tale of their adventure.

  He continued into the cavern, doing his best to avoid the scattered bones while paying attention to everything around him. After a moment, he heard movement behind him, which was a relief—he didn’t want to be stuck in the back of the cavern on his own when his magical night sight failed. He held the spear at guard and tracked his gaze with the tip, ready to strike at whatever came into view. However, there was nothing before him but rock.

  He kept walking, his feet finally starting to remember their old precision of movement without conscious effort. When he was roughly in the centre of the cavern, he stopped and slowly turned around to look back at the others, who had ventured in behind him. Leverre gestured to the left and Guillot went that way. Although it was difficult to make out, the glow seemed to indicate a large passage into an antechamber. Entering the passage, he felt as if his stomach were being gnawed on by rats, so strong had his anxiety grown. He almost wished the beast would appear in front of him and get it over with. Despite Hallot’s rejuvenative treatment, his heart was working far harder than it had been in a very long time, and the ever-building tension didn’t help.

  Rounding the corner, Gill was greeted with the antechamber. The empty antechamber. He let out a sigh of relief and took a quick look around, realising he had come to the back of the cavern—it went no farther. His gaze then returned to what he had been trying to ignore while seeing if there was any danger present. Shaped like an enormous bird’s nest was a great pile of gold. Coins, goblets, plate—an example of almost anything that could be made from gold was present. He tried to pick up a coin, but it had been fused to the mass. There was more fortune there than any man could spend in ten lifetimes, but he would need a hammer and a chisel to get it out.

  Satisfied that there was nothing else of note present—namely the dragon—Guillot headed back to the main chamber, walking more quickly and taking less care of his footing. He had gone only a few paces into the main chamber when he stubbed his toe on something hard and let out a swear. His heart jumped into his throat, and he scanned the room very carefully in case his exclamation had wakened a slumbering dragon that his initial inspection had missed. When he was satisfied there was no danger, he looked down at what he’d bumped into. The blue glow seemed different around it, not so intense, as though the object was sucking in the light around it.

  He knelt, being careful of his spear, and prodded at the thing with a gloved hand. It seemed metallic and was partially buried. Curious, Guillot set down the spear and worked the object free. It was a small spherical pot with a flat bottom and an ornate rim that looked to be carved with symbols; he couldn’t make them out in the odd blue light. It fit neatly into the palm of
his hand. To his mind, it was too small to be a drinking vessel—not for the quantities he usually drank, at least. Perhaps it had been used to store spices or something, and the lid had been lost. In the ethereal blue glow, the dull metal looked like pewter, or perhaps lead. In the old stories, dragons were said to have coveted precious metals like gold, silver, and platinum, and this was definitely not any of those.

  When he held it closer, he realised there were swirling blue lines on its surface, just like the ones on his sword. He pulled the sword half out of its sheath and tapped the object against the hilt. It rang out like a soft, musical note—just like what happened any time two Telastrian blades were struck against one another—confirming his suspicion that the little bowl was indeed made of Telastrian steel. The blue lines on its surface seemed to be drawing in the glow of his night vision. The ethereal blue glow made the experience so surreal that he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t just imagining it. Nonetheless, it was a curious thing to see.

  “What have you got there?” dal Sason said, approaching.

  “I don’t know. A small pot of some sort. Seems to be made of Telastrian steel. Worth an absolute fortune back in Mirabay, I reckon.”

  “Curious how it got here,” dal Sason said.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Guillot said.

  “Part of the dragon’s haul of treasure?” dal Sason said.

  Guillot laughed. “Oh, you haven’t seen the half of it, but we’ve got a bigger fish to fry, so it’ll have to wait. Leverre, can any of your people tell how long since the dragon was last here?”

  “I don’t know, but we can try.” He and the other Spurriers conferred for a moment, then spread out around the cavern and began to do something that looked like they all badly needed to use the outhouse. Dal Sason gave Guillot an uncomfortable look. Guillot shrugged. After the way Hallot had freshened him up, he wasn’t going to criticise magic any time soon.