Fearless Genre Warriors

by Steve Lockley

  ‘Even dragons have to eat,’ said Therin. ‘Don’t give up just yet.’

  Gilrain chewed thoughtfully on some dried fruit, marvelling at how un-fruitlike it actually tasted. ‘The elves live on this stuff, so they tell me,’ he mused. ‘No wonder they’re all so suspicious.’

  The warrior chewed some more, his eating only interrupted by the occasional deeply depressed sigh. Therin watched him cautiously. This was a new side to his young charge and he wasn’t entirely sure where it would end.

  For another half-hour, it rained solidly. The puddles became small lakes and an occasional bedraggled woodland creature would pass by. Every last one of them looked just as morose as the two humans standing beneath the shelter of the tree. Then by some bizarre providence, the rain slowed to a shower and then stopped altogether.

  They didn’t even notice at first, because the water continued to drip from the trees. It was only when the weak rays of an eternally hopeful sun speckled the ground beneath their feet that they realised the formerly iron-grey sky was now patched with promising blue.

  Gilrain’s horse shook some of the rainwater from its mane, cropping cautiously at one of the bushes nearby. It was a preferable sight to that of the poor animal standing with its head hung whilst it became miserably soaked.

  ‘Is that...’

  ‘Blue sky? Yes. Yes, it is.’ Therin stepped out from beneath the tree as though he had never seen such a wonder of nature before. He stared up at the sky. There was little to no heat in the sun, but to a man whose bones weren’t getting any younger, it was a medicinal balm. Therin turned his face up to the sky and sniffed deeply.

  ‘You’re going to say something about loving the smell of the forest air after a rain storm, aren’t you?’ Gilrain’s cynicism was every bit as surprising as his earlier melancholy. ‘Spare me, Therin, please.’

  ‘I was only going to suggest now would be a fine time to resume our hunt, actually,’ retorted the older man, slightly hurt by Gilrain’s tone.

  ‘Why bother? There’s no dragon in these woods.’ Gilrain’s temper had reached the end of its remarkably long fuse and he curled his armoured hand into a fist, slamming it into the tree in rage. Droplets of water were immediately disturbed and landed in a single deluge on the horse.

  The animal reared back and gave voice to its displeasure at such treatment.

  From somewhere close by, there came an answering sound. It was like the roar of a mountain lion, only far deeper and with the kind of resonance that set teeth to shaking and which you could feel in the pit of your stomach. It sounded close by, it sounded enormous and it sounded hungry.

  Therin managed not to panic, but only just.

  ‘Are you so sure about that, Gilrain?’

  The dragon was as old as the forest itself and she was, as was evidenced by the depth of feeling she put behind her roar, incredibly hungry. The incessant, unrelenting rain had ensured that game hunting had been difficult for a while now and a creature the size of a dragon could barely exist on an occasional rabbit. She’d successfully trapped a rather disgruntled badger and that had supplemented her diet for an extra couple of hours, but woodland animal was not her meat of choice. In addition, the badger had not tasted good and she had been restless since devouring it. She deeply suspected that the bad tempered creature was still trying to fight its way out of her slow digestive tract.

  She had scented the humans in her forest the moment they had entered and had borne herself into the grey skies. With no sun to cast her shadow, she had been able to watch their slow ingress into her forest.

  The dragon was a cold-blooded creature in every true sense of the word; reptilian and cruel and with a calculating, swift mind that made her the deadliest creature in the forest. She knew that there were other dragons outside of her borders, but this forest was hers and as such, anything that strayed into it was also hers.

  Her vast wings were silent as they slowly beat a gentle rhythm that kept her close to their position. Humans were predictable creatures and they never thought to look up. She had captured many of her prey in such a manner. The last sound her human victims generally uttered was ‘oh cra...’

  There were two of the human creatures below her, more than enough to fill her empty belly for a few days and the horse was just an added bonus. That she would save until last. Four legs fought back so much better than two and she much preferred her food to kick and scream on the way down.

  When the sun came out, its weak caress glinting off iridescent greenish-brown scales meant that she was in danger of being seen. Silently she glided a little further from the glade. The humans had no idea that when the horse reared and neighed loudly, it was not as a result of the water that had been splashed onto it, although that hadn’t helped.

  It was because the horse had seen her.

  Instinct took over and she roared her intent. The dragon was capable of human speech, but had long ago realised that there were some humans who were stupid enough to attempt to reason with her. As though she were something akin to a dog. One had even tried to teach her tricks. Roll over. Beg. Tear off my head.

  She drew back her head and let loose with a second roar, belching forth a plume of white-hot flame that scorched the damp leaves of the forest canopy. Her passage over the small camp had revealed no bows. She detested archers; arrows caused untold damage to the delicate membranes in her wings and effectively grounded her. She had but one weak spot and was confident that no warrior or prince or would-be hero would ever get close enough find it.

  She had never met a man like Gilrain before. Today, she would meet her match. The indestructible would meet the inconceivable.

  Today, had she but known it, she would die.

  But first, she would feast.

  With a third roar and another belch of flame, she flew upwards into the clearing skies above the glade, pausing momentarily at the apex of her dive before turning her muzzle downwards towards the ground and beginning her rapid descent.

  ‘How... magnificent!’

  Therin’s reaction to seeing the dragon was unexpected. At the sound of the second roar, the horse had struggled to free itself from where Gilrain had tethered it, emitting a sound of terror that no animal should ever make. The young warrior, sentimental to the last, had drawn his sword and cut the tether, giving the horse its opportunity to flee.

  It didn’t waste a second, turning and crashing through the undergrowth it had trampled on the way in.

  ‘Look at it, Gilrain! The colours! Greens and browns... the colours of the forest. It must be some sort of adaptability thing. I always thought dragons were red, or black, or white! Those colours... those markings... it must help the creature blend into its environment.’

  ‘To blend in? It’s the size of a village! What’s it going to do, Therin? Hide behind a tree? Jump out and go ‘boo’ at us? I don’t care if it’s pink with sky-blue spots, it’s going to die!’

  He leaped into the centre of the glade, directly below the rapidly descending dragon. He raised his head to stare defiantly into its gaping maw, lined on either side with razor-sharp teeth that were heading straight for him.

  ‘I’m not afraid of you!’ His defiance wafted up on the air and filled the dragon with delight. A fighter. She liked those almost as much as horses. They squirmed and kicked and...

  As she almost collided with the warrior, she dragged herself into a horizontal position, swooping over him, barely a hand-span above his head. Her talons raked through his dark hair, but Gilrain stood his ground, brandishing his sword furiously.

  Therin had dropped to the ground the moment the dragon had levelled out.

  ‘What are you doing, Gilrain?’

  ‘Fighting the dragon, Therin. That’s what I came out here do, wasn’t it?’ There was a determined look in the young warrior’s face. ‘So that’s what I’m going to do!’

  ‘Yes, but that was b
efore we knew it was even real.’ Therin felt acutely ashamed of the fear coursing through his veins. There was a roar from the dragon as she turned again to make another pass. The first one had merely been to display her size and strength to her foe. This run would be different. This time, she meant business.

  This time, her claws did more than rake through Gilrain’s hair. Her talons closed on his armoured shoulders, although the claws initially struggled to gain purchase on them, and she dragged him backwards, slamming him bodily into one of the trees. Rainwater fell in a shower around the dazed warrior as the dragon once more flew upwards.

  ‘Gilrain, we should retreat. This thing is too big for us...’

  The young warrior staggered back to his feet, swaying slightly. The impact had left him dazed and his eyes were having trouble focusing. ‘Even big things have a weak point, don’t they?’

  ‘I don’t think your little pig-sticker there will be of any use in this battle.’ Therin was startled by the fact that Gilrain showed no fear of the dragon at all. She wheeled overheard, her jaw opening to display her long fangs once again. Another roar left her throat and another plume of flame streaked towards Gilrain.

  The warrior ducked, rolling out of the projectile’s course and narrowly avoiding being turned into a pile of ash. He sprang nimbly to his feet and danced lightly from side to side, his sword clasped in both hands.

  He has absolutely no fear, Therin realised. He’s actually going to fight that thing. The boy had no survival instinct whatsoever, which was somewhere between admirable and terrifying. He’s going to fight it, he thought again.

  He’s going to fight it. And he’s going to lose.

  And if he dies, he’ll blame me.

  And I think I might actually miss him, the lanky bastard.

  The ‘lanky bastard’ was presently screaming epithets containing words that Therin had certainly never taught him. He was bleeding slightly from a cut on his head where he had hit the tree and a trickle of red ran from the crown of his head into his eye. He wiped the obstruction away angrily and resumed shouting.

  The dragon, amused by the pathetic fight her prey was putting up went in for another dive. This time, she didn’t unleash her fire. Instead, she swooped down with her talons curled under, ready to unleash them as she powered past the boy with the sword. Gilrain did not so much as flinch as he thrust upward.

  His blade hit the dragon’s armoured scales with a dull and decidedly metallic clang. Even the creature’s underbelly was protected from blades. There were no weak spots that he could discern. The dragon, not sure whether she was startled or annoyed by the fact her prey had stood its ground, veered sharply above the tree line and immediately began another descent.

  ‘It’s playing with us, Therin.’ Gilrain shook his sword fiercely at it. ‘And I am not in the mood for games.’ He took another swipe at the dragon as it passed and again, there was the dull clank of his blade on its armour.

  Gilrain swore. In the distance, there was a sudden and unmistakable rumble of thunder. Therin groaned to himself. There was no way that this situation could possibly get any worse.

  Another pass by the dragon meant he swiftly took stock of that opinion, although he didn’t dwell on it for long. Therin had been distracted by the encroaching storm clouds and the dragon had taken full advantage of the fact his eyes were off her to close her talons around his shoulders. She beat her wings hard and dragged the older man clear of the ground.

  ‘Therin, no!’ Gilrain’s anxiety for his friend was oddly touching, but all Therin could think as he was borne aloft, above the trees, was that it had all come a little bit too late. The forest fell away beneath him as the dragon dragged him higher.

  With a sickening crump, Therin was dumped unceremoniously on a rocky ledge, several meters above the ground. The unwelcoming dark entrance to a cave showed him that the dragon’s lair had been far closer than they had expected.

  Bones littered the entrance and as the dragon screeched another roar of fury and returned her attention to the metal-clad warrior below, Therin scrambled backwards over the tops of them. Some were old and brittle, breaking into little more than dust beneath his tread. Others were more recent; some animal, some human, some still with strips of half-flensed meat hanging from them. He was faintly disturbed to see the torn vestments of a holy woman; a nun, probably, and despite his predicament, couldn’t help but wonder how she had got there.

  And it stank. Putrid, rotting meat and a faint lingering smell of singed hair that made Therin want to vomit. He could do nothing for Gilrain from up here.

  ‘I’m sorry lad,’ he mumbled as he began searching desperately around for something, anything to use as a weapon. He reached for the decaying femur of what had once been a dragon-hunting warrior and it crumbled in his hand.

  There was no way down from the ledge apart from – well, down. And if he jumped, he’d be nothing more than a Therin-shaped splodge on the ground. It might actually be preferable to death by dragon, he thought morosely as the first fresh drops of rain began to splash down on the rock.

  He could climb down, he realised, but he wasn’t getting any younger and if he lost his grip, particularly in the rain, the result would be the same as jumping. He was stuck up here until he found a way down, until Gilrain found a way to get him down, or until the dragon ate him.

  Therin suspected the latter was the most likely outcome.

  Today was not turning out so well.

  ‘So hold on a minute.’ Boz the barman was completely caught up in Therin’s story.

  ‘What?’ Therin seemed annoyed at the interruption. He had gotten into a steady flow of prose and the barman’s interjection was quite irritating.

  ‘You were stuck in a cave up there. The dragon’s flying ceaselessly at yon hero...’ He nodded his head towards the hero, who had downed a single glass of house mead and was laying face-down in a puddle of his own drool, sleeping peacefully. ‘The horse ran away. And yet you came out of this venture unscathed?’

  Therin stared at him. Boz stared back, but gave in first.

  ‘If you’ll let me finish?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Gilrain was starting to tire now. The dragon was relentless and it continued to swoop low, sometimes belching fire at him, sometimes striking out with its claws, but never directly facing him. And if anything set Gilrain’s temper to a maximum setting, it was an enemy who toyed with him. It had taken his best friend... his companion... the man he thought of as his father, for the love of the Goddess – and that made him furious.

  His arms ached from holding the sword above his head constantly and his shoulder had dislocated the last time the dragon had flung him against a tree. And now the rain had started again.

  More blood trickled from his head and he tasted its coppery tang on the end of his tongue.

  And then something remarkable happened. Something that only happened once every few months.

  Gilrain had an idea.

  Whilst he cogitated on this comparatively unfamiliar sensation, he kept one wary eye on the dragon. He had not seen where she had dropped Therin and to the best of his thinking ability, there was only way he was going to find out.

  This time, when the dragon swooped in for another attempt to grab him with her claws, he didn’t try to resist. By luck rather than design, the dragon had started to tire of this game and she snatched the young warrior up in her talons. She carried him up to her cave and dropped him with no less grace but decidedly more of a clatter than Therin. Then she dropped backwards off the ledge to hunt the horse.

  ‘What are you doing up here, Gilrain?’

  ‘Checking you’re still alive. Don’t worry.’ The dishevelled young man was covered in scratches and his left shoulder was hanging uselessly to one side. He was battered and dented, his hair all over the place and still there was a mad glint in his eyes. ‘I have a plan.’

&nb
sp; The beam on Gilrain’s face was immeasurably more terrifying than the dragon had been.

  ‘Are you quite alright?’ Therin’s eyebrows furrowed in concern at the manic gleam in his young charge’s eyes. ‘Did you perhaps hit your head a bit too hard on one of those trees? You remember what happened the last time you had a plan, right?’

  ‘You promised never to mention that to me again,’ said Gilrain, some of the enthusiasm sapped from him by Therin’s tone. ‘And the cat’s fur will grow back eventually, they said.’

  ‘Alright, alright, I’m sorry, lad.’ Therin patted Gilrain awkwardly on the shoulder and was rewarded with a slight lessening of the maniacal glint in the boy’s eyes. ‘What’s your plan?’

  ‘We wait,’ came the reply. ‘The dragon’s going to be back up here any time now. And when it is…’ He made a jabbing motion with his sword. ‘Right in the eye.’

  There was no answer to such a show of blind optimism, so Therin didn’t say a word. Instead, he nodded. And he waited for the inevitable outcome.

  ‘I kill the dragon, it drops down to the forest floor below. Then we make our way down and…’ Gilrain tailed off and peered over the edge of the rocky outcrop down into the canopy of the forest. ‘Oh dear,’ he said, crestfallen. ‘It’s a very long way, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s mostly a good plan, Gilrain.’ It wasn’t much of a comfort, but Therin felt he should say something. Gilrain frowned.

  ‘I’m going to kill it anyway,’ he asserted.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It shouldn’t have picked today to mess with us.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘When I figure out how to get down, I’m going to take its head and that’ll be one sorry dragon.’ Gilrain brandished his sword, filled with bravado that Therin certainly didn’t share.

  ‘Yes.’

  There was a far-distant roar and another equine scream. It sounded as though the dragon and horse had become acquainted. In a culinary sense. In the blackening sky, from which heavy drops of rain were now falling steadily, there was an answering rumble of thunder.