Dragon with a Deadly Weapon

by Michael Angel

  “I get the idea,” I said. “For the record, King Fitzwilliam only considers me his most loyal courtier. Not marriage material, nor anything else involving my plush ‘womanly virtues’.”

  Inwardly, I cringed. I’d just told a half-truth right there. The King had indeed made it clear that I wasn’t marriage material, and that I was his most valued subordinate. But he’d indeed considered me through the lens of courtship, and only turned away because of his duty to the realm. That had only made me admire the man more.

  Even if he’d made my life hell at times.

  “Then I mean no offense, but that’s welcome news,” Vandegrift asserted. “The Good King Benedict had sent me away these past few years on a most urgent task: to find a princess worthy of his son to marry.”

  I blinked. “And did you find anyone?”

  “Ha! Did I? There’s a cathouse’s worth of royal trollops who’d like to wear a crown atop their head. It helps that Fitzwilliam doesn’t look or smell too much like the ass-end of a warthog, either. I was planning on giving him the list of names to choose from to invite here. And of course, to show off ‘Bane to him as well.”

  At that, the dragon made a loud Urrrp! and rolled over. The rumble of a draconic snore bubbled up from his snout. Vandegrift leaned over and stroked his mount’s flank.

  “Silver just ate a full-grown sheep for lunch,” he explained. “The wool gives him gas.”

  “He does seem to be a much nicer dragon that the ones I’ve met,” I said truthfully. “You’ve trained him well. A lot better than I’ve seen others when working with these beasts.”

  “They’re no more beasts than I, even if they look as detestable. You cannot order a dragon about. Rather, you need to approach them on their level. Earn their respect. And a true Air Cavalry commander needs to be skilled in magic for them to respect you.”

  That stopped me.

  “A Captain like you…needs to know magic?”

  “Does it sound like I’d been telling tales out of school?” he asked, with another sardonic laugh. Vandegrift walked past me and bent down to rummage by the foot of his makeshift bed. He pulled out a kidney-shaped wineskin, sloshed it around a couple of times, and pulled out its wooden stopper. “Only a few bastards in any generation have the talent to fly, to command the respect of men by the sword, and to command the respect of a dragon by magic.”

  “I only heard of three who worked for the Good King Benedict,” I ventured, as the Captain poured a swig of blood-red wine from the skin into his mouth and swallowed it with relish.

  “That’s all there’ve been since I was a lad.” Vandegrift knelt and then sat with his back against wall and motioned for me to join him. “There was me, of course. Then there was Vazura. Young, cocky little slingjig, he was. Only one of us who thought he could ride a griffin as well as a dragon. Rumor had it that he got himself murdered. Can’t say I’m surprised by that. I always knew someone would stick a butcher’s prong in his hide someday.”

  I moved to sit next to the Captain. The stone wall felt cool and smooth against my back. Vandegrift offered me the wineskin, but I shook my head and kept listening as he went on.

  “Then there was Benedict’s favorite, the ‘young old man’. Heard he died a year or two after I left the country. Again, I’m not surprised. I’m no sawbones, but he had a waster’s illness or something. Like the life was being sucked right out of him.”

  Vandegrift let another cascade of wine pour into his mouth. He let out a belch that rivaled Silverbane’s before going on.

  “So, now that I’ve talked until the beggarman's back has been scratched, it’s your turn. What in blazes has been going on in this kingdom since Benedict was put to bed with a shovel?”

  “A lot’s been going on,” I warned him. “You might not like all of what I have to say.”

  “Well, I want to hear it! Whatever’s going on must be bad. There’s no more dragons here and the court’s led by some jacked-up lordling with a horse’s ass!”

  I sighed as Vandegrift offering me the wineskin again. This time I took it.

  “I better take a drink, then. This is going to be a very long story.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The rhythmic whirr of a waxing machine greeted me as I walked through the sliding glass doors of First Samaritan’s medical wing. The man pushing it waved at me to get my attention, and then pointed to a nearby yellow floor sign: CAUTION SLIPPERY FLOOR.

  I acknowledged the sign with a quick nod and stopped in my tracks. I tossed away the remnants of my early-morning coffee fix in a nearby trash bin, shifting the paper shopping bag held under my arm as I did so. Then I made my way around the far side of the hall.

  Ever since Thea had (somewhat) restored my faith in controlling my own destiny, I’d been able to sleep halfway decently. My mood had improved, and I wasn’t about to ruin that by doing an involuntary cartwheel on a freshly waxed hospital floor.

  Besides, Fitzwilliam and I weren’t going to be leaving that way, either.

  Two nurses were busy filling out paperwork at the station outside Fitzwilliam’s room. I was a familiar face at the hospital by now, so neither gave me a second glance as I walked up to his room and went inside. ‘Fritz’ William looked up from the magazine he’d been flipping through as I closed the door behind me.

  “Good morning, your Majesty,” I said, inclining my head towards him. “I’m here a little early today, but I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  “My best knight is always welcome,” he replied graciously, as he held up what he’d been reading. It was one of the local Southern California fashion weeklies. “You need to explain to me why your people are so obsessed with the way they look and smell. Surely they must spend some of their time harvesting crops or shoeing war horses!”

  “Maybe I can answer that someday,” I agreed. “But today’s different. We’re heading back to Andeluvia.”

  “Now?” the King’s face took on an expression equal parts eagerness and worry. “I can stand, but I fear that I am still not healed enough to walk well.”

  “I’d prefer that you stay here a while longer too. But Regent Magnus has returned to the Centaur Realm as of late last night. The Kingdom’s needs won’t wait any longer.”

  I set the bag I’d been carrying on a nearby table. Then I pulled out a short cylinder topped by a black rubber handle. I pressed a button and gave the object a shake, and the cylinder extended into a slender tube of metal.

  “Telescoping walking stick,” I explained, as I set it against the wall. “That should help.”

  The King still looked hesitant. “Perhaps it shall. Yet I am not sure this is the right course of action.” He noticed I was still rummaging through the bag. “What else have you brought?”

  I placed the contents in a pile atop his bedsheets.

  “I had the Lord of the Pursuivant select a set of clothes for you. Apparently, Herald has everyone’s measurements committed to memory.”

  Fitzwilliam beamed. “If you weren’t already a Dame, I’d have knighted you just for that!”

  The King was up in a flash. I turned away as he stripped down and slipped on a set of Andeluvian underpants, trousers and doublet. While these garments weren’t as regal as the monarch’s normal clothes, I figured that they’d at least be familiar and comfortable for him.

  “You may turn around now.” The King smoothed out his sleeves, savoring the feel of the fabric. “Much as I appreciate the medicine of your world, I hope to never so much as see another hospital gown in my life, let alone wear one!”

  I handed over the walking stick. The King took a hesitant step forward. When the thing bore his weight without issue, he took a few more steps back and forth until his gait was reasonably smooth.

  “Fair enough,” he announced, as he sat back on the bed. “My subjects may come to believe that I’ve been lamed, but they shall not think me too ill to lead. Also, I am deeply grateful for the clothes. Yet I am not outfitted for the throne room, nor a formal gathering
. Where are we arriving in Andeluvia?”

  “I’ve arranged for your return this morning just outside the palace’s South Keep.”

  Fitzwilliam frowned. “That is a far step from the palace proper.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s necessary for two reasons. First, it’s one of the few open spots large enough for you to meet with my friend, Nagura of the Hakseeka.”

  “The Wyvern Queen? You have an odd set of priorities, Dame Chrissie!”

  “Not at all. Allow me to explain my reasoning,” I said. The King let out a heavy breath and gestured me to continue. “Regent Magnus said something to me before he left that I considered very relevant: Two crowns cannot reside upon one throne.”

  “That would be a hard concept to argue against, true.”

  “Just as you are leery of wyverns, Nagura is deeply troubled about how she is viewed as a monster by your knights. She was also a monarch in her own right, and a former resident in what is now your palace.

  “Nagura has asked me multiple times how to make it clear that she is not a threat. That she puts no claim upon your throne. And most importantly, that she only wishes to remain deep below the palace to guard the caverns and search for the eggs of her kind.”

  Fitzwilliam chewed that over. “What did you tell her?”

  “I said that she should be present for your return, preferably away from the Royal Court, and swear fealty to the Andeluvian throne as your liege in defense of the palace.”

  The King stared at me for a moment. He let out a short bark of a laugh as if he didn’t believe what his own brain was telling him.

  “Are you telling me,” he said, incredulously, “that you want me to bestow knighthood…upon a wyvern?”

  I decided to drop the other shoe. “That brings me to my second reason for bringing you to the South Keep. Each of my three friends will vouch for Nagura’s honor. And now that he’s met her, ‘Grift’ is ready to recommend Nagura as well.”

  Now I got an even more incredulous look. “Grift? Are you saying that Captain Vandegrift’s returned to the Capitol? Are you absolutely sure?”

  “When he arrived, the first thing he did was piss off your nobles by saying they only grew the ‘smallest of potatoes’.”

  “No doubt about it, that’s my old friend! But…how did you get that crabbed Dragon Knight to actually approve of a wyvern?”

  “After his memorable entrance, I met Vandegrift at the South Keep and we had a little talk. I’ll let him fill you in on the reasons for his return. I went over everything that’s happened in Andeluvia since you ascended the throne. Once I got to the part about the ‘Wyvern Queen’, he wanted to meet her. They got along splendidly, in fact.”

  Fitzwilliam slapped his knee and got back on his feet. He leaned heavily on the cane, but his legs didn’t betray the hint of a wobble.

  “This is something that I must see, then.” The King looked around the room ruefully. “I shall miss my servants in this realm.”

  Yeah, I bet you will, I thought, with a smirk. No more Royal Sponge Baths.

  “Will you see to it that they get my thanks, as well as proper compensation?” he asked. “I know not how this works in your world.”

  “I’ll work it out,” I promised. “Ready to return home, your Majesty?”

  “Oh, I’m more than ready to put ‘Fritz William’ behind me, yes,” he agreed.

  I stepped closer to the King and squeezed my silver medallion between my fingers. The soft greens of the hospital room vanished in a blaze of white.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The sinuous shapes of carved dragons swam into view as King Fitzwilliam and I arrived in the vast courtyard outside the South Keep. A warm morning sun had already begun to heat up the granite flagstones. The vast airplane-hanger shape of the building cast a long, deep shadow that cut across those same stones like a knife.

  My three friends stood across the way, awaiting our arrival. Galen trotted forward and grasped the King’s hand between his two. The Wizard’s face shone with honest happiness and relief.

  “Your Majesty!” he exclaimed. “It delights me to see you extant and at the palace again!”

  “And I am glad to remain among the living as well, Court Wizard,” Fitzwilliam replied, just as earnestly. He took a deep inhale before speaking again. “Oh, dear Gods! To breath the air of Andeluvia again!”

  “Thou hast graced us again with thy presence,” Shaw said, as he respectfully knelt before the King. The griffin’s fayleene friend followed suit at his side.

  “Welcome back, fellow Protector,” Liam said. “It is good to see you restored.”

  “You do me honor, kind griffin and fayleene,” Fitzwilliam said, inclining his head. “Yet after much enforced bed rest, I am keen to get back to matters of state. At the top of these matters are two new arrivals to my kingdom. Yet I do not see them.”

  “They were supposed to meet us here,” I noted. “But where are they?”

  Galen coughed into his hand. “Actually, they both wished to make an entrance in their own special way, Sire.”

  At those words, my ears picked up a familiar yet nerve-wracking slithering sound. Thick, muscular coils emerged from the depths of the Keep’s shadow, along with serrated wings and a skull framed by hellish looking spines.

  Fitzwilliam stumbled backwards, swayed on his feet for a moment, and shifted his grip to hold his walking stick like a sword. I doubted that the King had even done it consciously. I stepped forward and held out a hand.

  “One moment, your Majesty!” I said quickly. “You have trusted my judgement before, and I need you to trust me again. This creature shall not attack you. Give her a moment to explain herself!”

  The King’s eyes narrowed. His jaw worked a moment, and then he relaxed. He nodded brusquely as he lowered his impromptu weapon and leaned on it as a cane again.

  Nagura’s scales flashed like freshly burnished copper as she came out fully into the light. Her spike-crowned head rose slightly and her wings rustled as she brought her forearms up to the dry-erase board around her neck. A scribble, and her rich female voice filled the courtyard.

  “Forgive us, great King,” she said. “We are Nagura of the Hakseeka, and we know that we wear a form which gives you pause. Yet we wish no harm upon you nor any member of your court.”

  “All is forgiven,” Fitzwilliam said, after absorbing the sight of the wyvern queen scribbling away at the board. “You merely startled me.”

  “Again, my apologies.” Nagura wrung her talons as if distraught. “We had hoped to wreath our form in shadow so as not to invoke your wrath. In this, we failed.”

  “You invoked my surprise, not wrath. Know that I have suffered greatly at the hands of those who bear your likeness. However, thanks to Dame Chrissie’s explanation, I do not ascribe their guilt to you.”

  “Thank you, great King. We wish only friendship and offer nothing but service in exchange for your leave to reside here. We have asked your trusted friends and advisors here to vouch for us and help your judgement.”

  “Indeed. I have already ruminated much upon your offer to guard the lower reaches of my palace, while you search for the eggs which may be of wyvern – or dragon – origin.”

  The beat of wings cut through the air before Fitzwilliam could continue. He turned and gasped, but the gasp was one of wonder, not horror. I’ll admit, I did the same thing.

  Silverbane emerged from a nearby cloud and banked sharply to head towards the courtyard. Sunshine caught on his moonlight-colored scales, sending rippling waves of rainbow-colored radiance down along his body. From his perch in a saddle perched atop the dragon’s back, Captain Vandegrift gave a tug on the reins.

  The Dragon Knight brought his mount in for a surprisingly delicate landing across the courtyard. He threw a leg over Silverbane’s neck, slid from the saddle, and jogged over to the King. Without ceremony, he grabbed my liege lord and practically lifted him off the ground with a massive hug before releasing him and stepping back.


  “William! Never thought it’d be so damned good to see you! But our horses are on different tracks now, aren’t they? Ever since your father traded his throne for a crypt, that is.” Vandegrift paused, face flushing as he realized what he’d said, and awkwardly knelt. “I meant…that is…it is good to see you, Sire.”

  The King let out a free-wheeling laugh I’d never heard from him before. He motioned for his friend to rise and clasped his hand warmly.

  “Our courses are different now that my father has passed, yes. But we’ve ridden together for far too long for me to forget where I came from.” Fitzwilliam looked over to me. “Grift was one of my first mentors. He was one of the few members of the court to visit me in Saratha, and he taught me most of what I know about riding and sword fighting.”

  “He did a good job,” I said honestly.

  Vandegrift puffed his chest out even more, if that were possible.

  “From what Dame Chrissie says, what I taught you must’ve stuck in that head of yours! You took on a wyvern at the Spring Tournament all by yourself! May a demon swallow me sideways, I wish I’d been there to hand out a beating to those rotten, loathsome, cursed–” the Captain paused and turned to bow to Nagura. “No offense meant to you, Lady Wyvern.”

  Nagura let out a chuff that would’ve done credit to a steam locomotive. It was the closest a wyvern could come to a laugh. A squeak of marker on board followed.

  “None taken. A loyal knight should always be willing to protect their liege.”

  “Speaking of knighthood,” Fitzwilliam said, “I am considering adding that title to this ancient and powerful wyvern. It’s not exactly the usual state of things to give an investiture to anyone but a human male. But lately, we’ve been more lenient about such things.”

  “Indeed, Sire,” I said. “You’ve benefited from having a woman knighted.”

  “As well as a centaur, if I may be so bold,” Galen put in.

  “And a fayleene,” Liam added.