Dragon Removal Service

by E. C. Stever

  Prophecies destroyed your filters. Nope. No prophecy this time. If she was destined (or even pre-destined) to do something, she'd find out after it happened. Gulchima would be post-destined.

  "I won't," Gulchima said. But she had an idea it wouldn't be so easy.

  "But you musssst," Ash whined. "It is foretold that we will tell you the prophecy."

  "Let me get this straight: It is foretold that you will foretell?"

  Ash chuckled. "We hadn't thought of that. It is humorous. Still, we must."

  "Okay I'll listen to what you have to say," Gulchima said. She crumbled up a bit of the yellow cake from her bag, and stuffed it in her ears. All she could hear was the roaring of the sea.

  When she was sure Ash was done speaking, she nodded for a few seconds, then cleared the cake out of her ear.

  "Will you take me to the tail now?" Gulchima asked.

  "I've been taking you this entire time," Ash said. "Look up."

  Gulchima did.

  She was on her stomach, laying in rotted dragon flesh. The smell made her gag. She choked and then her vomit splashed hot onto her arms.

  Gulchima reached for her bag of knives. There were eight dragon tooth knives, as promised, each attached to a handle made of oak.

  She selected one of the knives, then started to cut.

  The flesh cut easily under the dragon tooth knife. After all, that's what dragon teeth were designed for.

  To cut other dragons.

  As she sawed through the dragon, the flesh started to firm up. The creature smelled of the Western Sea. It was not rotted entirely, but it was not so tough that she couldn't get through it.

  As she poked a hole through the scales, Gulchima heard someone speaking

  "The lemonade mystery is solved?" said a muffled voice.

  It was Hubward. He was putting on his play. The one about the lemons.

  The crowd laughed. That was good. She could tell when Hubward was playing it for laughs.

  She heard an answering voice. That was Isolde. She was there, helping Hubward. And Lady Keyhide too. Gulchima heard the crowd gasp. They were drawing out the laughter. No, they were stalling. They must have seen her knife cut through the dragon.

  Hubward was making sure that everyone would see Gulchima's grand entrance.

  "And yet," Hubward said from above her, "there is still the mystery of the dragon."

  "The dragon?" asked Isolde.

  "The dragon," gruffed Lady Keyhide.

  The dragon, Gulchima thought. She sawed madly, pushing away the last string of sinew that attached to the dragon scales.

  The crowd gasped and then cheered. It seemed as if Gulchima had appeared out of thin air, had crawled out of a trapdoor in the dragon.

  Gulchima emerged from the dragon, holding her gleaming dragon tooth knife above her head.

  "Who wants dragon for dinner?" she asked, blinking in the early morning sunlight. "I mean—brunch?"

  The crowd erupted. Isolde, Hubward, and Novvy, ran over to hug her, slipping on the dragon goo. Jaroo and Lady Keyhide hugged each other, then looked away awkwardly. Uncle Roog, and the children, and the inhabitants of both houseboats and everyone in the burgh, all cheered for her.

  They were all there, they were all witnesses to Gulchima's birth back into the world.

  And they cheered her return.

  Chapter 47: The Play is Over

  The crowd cheered wildly now that Hubward's play was over.

  They were gathered around the dragon, and had stood patiently and watched his play, even after a long night of fighting off magical monsters. True, there had been free ale from the Alewife, but the play had been the real reason they gathered here.

  Well, that and the dragon.

  Isolde, Lady Keyhide and Jaroo had all agreed to help with the production, with Hubward filling in by playing the other twenty-seven roles.

  It took many sets of eyebrows, and three long hours, for the audience to find out what had happened. After a twisty-turny showdown scene on the roof of the apple-cider building, the play resolved the central lemonade mystery.

  The villain was not the evil sheep-shearer.

  The butler did it.

  Then Gulchima had cut through the dragon, and Hubward had introduced her too, as if he had been planning it all along.

  What an ending!

  "Thank you for being hostage to my art," Hubward said. He gestured at Gulchima. "As you know, the Romaic people had a deus-ex-machina, the god in the machine, in all of their plays. So today, I give you a herois-intra-draco!"

  "A what?" Isolde asked

  "A hero inside the dragon," Hubward said. The crowd laughed in that polite way, which meant they appreciated the effort, but the joke wasn't really all that funny.

  His play was over, the monsters were defeated, and his family was still undead. They seemed better, less confused, but still undead. Their faces were striped with orange, like a tiger. And they sat clustered together, watching Hubward with rapt attention. They were undead, but they had hope. Maybe Ninestone could cure them. Maybe not.

  Hubward was at peace with his decision.

  Gulchima gave a short speech. When she was done, the noise was tremendous. There were no words for the thunderous joy of the crowd, at least not in Aestii, the language of Baltica. It was loud.

  Gulchima smiled awkwardly with her too small mouth. Then she handed out the dragon tooth knives (or was it knifes?), and everyone started cutting.

  There was quite a feast after that, and more speeches, and even Jaroo smiled. Slightly. Lady Keyhide promised more work for Gulchima's Outfit, given that the fizz factory would need to be completely rebuilt. She claimed the contract was completed, and Gulchima would be paid in full. Minus certain expenses.

  Novvy and Tormo sat together, equals again since one-eaten-finger equaled one-glow-in-the-dark-beard, as everyone knew. And Hubward overheard Isolde say to Tiktok, "Well it's quite a lot of spit, if you're really asking for feedback on your technique."

  The local burghers were roasting bits of dragon flesh over a fire, while others were salting it, preparing for dragon bacon.

  But it was Soltanabad who had the greatest idea. He whispered something to Gulchima, and they shook hands.

  "A third of profits," Gulchima said, before releasing his hand.

  Soltanabad agreed.

  His crew set up large bags inside the dragon, stolen from the fizz factory flood. Soltanabad used his hot air hoses and bellows to inflate the bags with air.

  Gulchima took out her dragon tooth knife, then sawed near the end of the dragon tail, leaving the last five feet of tail on the ground.

  As she sliced through the very last scale, the tail sunk into the ground, absorbing the many years of deferred gravity. It left only a hole.

  The rest of the dragon shifted forward, now free from its gravity debt. With poles to nudge it into the water, Soltanabad sailed on top of the dragon. The bags of air floated it down the river, and away from Bayadev.

  The dragon was removed. It would be destroyed, or maybe cut into smaller pieces and resold for a small profit, which was really the same thing if you stopped to think about it.

  Gulchima and Hubward watched it go.

  "I did it," Hubward said.

  "Yep," Gulchima said. She punched him on the arm. "What do you mean you did it. I'm the one that defeated evil."

  "I mean the play," Hubward said. He peeled off one of his eyebrows, then reapplied it. "Everyone laughed when they were supposed to. That's a success."

  "Yeah, but did you defeat the Sorcerer?"

  Hubward shook his head. "I let her go, it wasn't who we thought."

  "Ninestone was the Sorcerer," Hubward and Gulchima said at the same time. They both laughed.

  "I saw her do magic," Gulchima confessed.

  "She's my aunt," Hubward added.

  They looked at one another, then laughed again. Hubward took a bite of dragon, which tasted like a cross between ox-tail and horned oryx.

&nb
sp; "You look better without that smelly fish monster on your head," Hubward said.

  "You look better with those new eyebrows glued on straight," Gulchima said. "I'm glad we're friends."

  "Best friends," Hubward added. "Will you tell me what happened in the dragon?"

  Gulchima shook her head. "You wouldn't be interested. It's all about the end of the world."

  "Oh! Was there a prophecy? I love prophecies," Hubward gushed. "My next play is all about prophecies. It's called Remembro, and it's about a magical boy who can't remember his prophecy because he got kicked in the head by a camel. Anyway, when will the world end? Do I have time to write it?"

  "Ask me tomorrow," Gulchima said. She took a bite of dragon steak, and chewed thoughtfully.

  "Today is for celebrating."

  Chapter 48: Rattbone Returns

  "Orphans! Don't you jest love 'em?"

  Days turned into weeks, and Ash did not return. Neither did the Sorcerer. Gulchima went back to work.

  There was still magic, especially inside the fizz factory caverns, but it wasn't nearly as strong as it used to be.

  Gulchima stood at the Bayadev docks, watching the lone wonder worm. It hadn't moved since the night Brunhild had attacked. Was it planning something inside that cocoon of silk?

  Jaroo and Lady Keyhide had insisted she take care of it. They were tough negotiators in private, but in public they gushed over the Outfit. Gulchima, Roog and Isolde had eventually worn them down, and were now part owners of the fizz factory. It would be a steady stream of income, and the houseboats were perfect for selling fizz-water.

  Gulchima had also bought partial ownership of "Uncle Roog's Dragon-Hot Sauna Service". The saunas, fueled by Roog's fire medicine, were popular in all the towns along the river. Roog was quite rich now, which transformed his natural meanness into good business sense, while his offensive smell was now considered rugged to certain older ladies in the burgh.

  "I said, do you love them orphans or what Gulch! Hello?"

  Gulchima whirled. Uncle Rattbone was there, his beard fresh and combed out. He smiled at her.

  She ran over to hug him, to make sure he wasn't a ghost. But he was as solid as ever. He dropped his war-axe.

  "I heard you've been cleaning things up around here," Uncle Rattbone said. "But I had no idea. I'm proud of you Gulch. And I see you finally took my advice and had Hubward help you."

  "Hubward wouldn't leave, no matter how many mean things I said to him," Gulchima said. She looked at the burgh, at the progress she'd made. It looked good.

  Uncle Rattbone laughed. "The war against the Gutlanders is over too," he said. "Had to kill the Soldier-King of course. That old magic-abuser had to go."

  "You killed our king? I thought he was against magic."

  Uncle Rattbone rubbed his nose. "Ah well. Turns out he was a shape shifter. Only one way to kill a thing like that."

  "How?" Gulchima asked.

  "Scissors, unfortunately," Uncle Rattbone said, wrinkling his nose. "Takes a long time to cut up all them shapes. Anyway, we have a queen now, and she's a friend of mine." He held up his hands. "Now she's half Scythian, but she's one of the good ones. Good Queen Eneli, they call her."

  "How do you know she's good?"

  "Oh no, that's just her name," Uncle Rattbone said. "She was worried about being called an evil queen because she was Scythian, so I told her, 'just add good to your name'. And so far it's working."

  "So does she use magic?" Gulchima asked.

  "Well good magic only, she says." Uncle Rattbone raised his eyebrows. "Light magic, she calls it."

  "Light magic? You mean there's a color of magic?" Gulchima asked.

  "Dunno. I read a good book on that once. Great book actually. Said it was kinda purpley."

  Gulchima grimaced. "How do you know if it's good magic? This is my business we're talking about here."

  "Oh that's easy," Uncle Rattbone said. "Whatever magic the Queen don't like is evil. Whatever magic she does like, is good."

  "So nothing's really changed," Gulchima said. "Magic is bad, unless you need to use it."

  "Depends on your perspective," Uncle Rattbone said. "If you're looking down on Baltica, measuring good against evil on your abacus, then no, nothing's changed."

  "But?"

  Uncle Rattbone put his hand on her shoulder. "But if you're measuring the fortunes of our family, then a lot has changed. And all for the good. We're nearly debt free, we got a name for ourselves as dragon removers, and magic tamers. And then there's your parents Gulch . . . You can go to that big island of Saaremaa, and maybe you'll get them outta there."

  "Out of prison?"

  "Well, they're not exactly in prison," Uncle Rattbone said. "That's just an easy way to explain why they're locked up."

  He handed a letter to Gulchima. It was gilded around the edges and signed by Good Queen Eneli.

  Gulchima read it. It appointed her as Marduk of Baltica, and requested that she travel to the island of Saaremaa, to "clean up certain problems" that had arisen.

  "What 's a Marduk?" Gulchima asked.

  "It means, 'she-who-makes-ingenious-things-out-of-the-dragon-of-chaos'," Uncle Rattbone said. "It's a prophecy the Scythians have—"

  Gulchima held up her hand. "No prophecies, thanks. This is a prophecy-free zone." She bit her lip. "Will you help me travel to Saaremaa, it's far."

  "I'll take you as far as they'll let me," Uncle Rattbone said. "But promise me, you'll come back."

  "Back for what?"

  "For the wedding. I'm getting married," Uncle Rattbone said.

  "To the Good Queen?"

  Uncle Rattbone winced. "No, to Brunhild."

  He waved to someone standing behind him, and Brunhild appeared. She was not wearing her scale armor, and had cut her hair very short. She seemed smaller, less sure of herself. But she seemed happy.

  "Hello," Brunhild said. "I am sorry . . . for trying . . . to ruin your life . . . enslave your family . . . and burn your home."

  "And?" Uncle Rattbone said.

  "And I have destroyed my magical armor, and the voices that commanded me to do evil things have left."

  "And," Uncle Rattbone urged her.

  "And, I am pregnant," Brunhild said. She smiled.

  Gulchima looked at Brunhild and Uncle Rattbone. There was too much emotion for her tastes. "Sounds good," she said. "But I thought you were already married."

  "Yes but, well, it's a bit confused you see," Uncle Rattbone said. "Technically, when she kidnapped your sister—under the evil spell of the Zeitgeist of course—well technically we weren't never married. As we see it. Plus we never got any presents or had a big to-do about anything. So we thought—"

  Brunhild cut him off. "We must stand in front of our beloved families, and make the most solemn of promises." She smiled briefly. "And we must eat cake."

  "I won't leave you," Uncle Rattbone said, staring into Brunhild's eyes.

  "And I won't let you," Brunhild growled. They embraced, and Gulchima looked away as they kissed.

  After several moments, Gulchima could not stand to watch them kiss any longer, so she walked away. She kicked the wonder worm cocoon into the river, and it floated away, a small burp of gas showing its displeasure. But that was all.

  Above her, a rock from Suur Töll floated across the sky, cutting a line through the clouds. Gulchima wondered about Saaremaa. Would she meet the giant there? Would she save her parents?

  She wondered about the future, about Hubward, about Novvy's finger. She wondered about Isolde, and Tormo's glow-in-the-dark beard, and the stupid, useless, left-over magic that was still ruining Baltica. Gulchima hadn’t really defeated evil, or figured much out. But she'd cleaned up Bayadev, and fulfilled the contract, and now her family was safe and had enough to eat.

  And Gulchima felt glad of it, glad to have a stable place in the world from which she could work against magic. Give her enough time, and enough friends, and enough rope and pulleys, and Gulchima would straighten out thi
s world. Eventually.

  After all, Gulchima Brixby was head of the Outfit.

  She could fix anything.

  THE END

  The Fun Continues . . . Don't miss Gulchima and Hubward's hilarious adventures in Book 2: A Magical School for Magical Fools B07ZQWPNRH

  Free Book Offer: Exclusively for Current Readers If you enjoyed this book, you can get additional free books here: www.ecstever.com/free

  Note From the Author:

  Well. Well. Well, well, wellington wellburson. I hope you enjoyed this story.

  It was difficult to write, difficult to balance, difficult to stop writing. Mostly, it was difficult. It was my first foray into the dream place, where all novels are born. There are other Gulchima stories to be told, I suspect. I know enough about Saaremaa Island to start writing. I think there's a school there, or maybe it’s a prison, or maybe it's both.

  And there's a giant who guards it.

  Eric "E.C." Stever

  Runesday, January 3, 2019

  eric@ecstever.com

  About the Author

  One of these eyebrows is fake! To find out which, contact eric@ecstever.com

  Eric "E.C." Stever is the author of humorous fantasy, and science fiction adventures. He has been publishing for over a decade.

  Eric is a professional archaeologist in Idaho, a former Forest Service employee, and has also worked as a computer programmer. (Dear NASA: If you're recruiting for an expedition to those alien ruins on Omicron-Persei 8, he's the ideal programmer-archaeologist you've been looking for.)

  He lives on the River of No Return with a geologist, two unrepentant marshmallow fanatics, and several hundred eyebrow mites (don't judge, you have them too). Alas, the coyotes have eaten his cats.

  More information can be found on his website www.ecstever.com/dragons