Shunned: Dragon's Cord #1 The Metal Veil and the Weeping Sword Named Tear

by Cheyenne Barnett

  Chapter Three

  Partners

  Vapkin and Shy tracked the dragon through the woods. They started up a valley, and his horse neighed in the crisp air, and its hot breath was like smoke in the cold. The scent of pine surrounded them as a Forest Hawk screamed in the blue cloudless sky. He noticed Shy still favored her left shoulder.

  "No matter how chilly it gets I imagine her shoulder burns, burns like hell fire," he muttered to himself.

  Her forehead beaded with sweat as she pulled her fur cloak close. Her shoulder ached, throbbing with each movement of the mare. The only thing that kept her going was the thought that the dragon must pay for its atrocities. She stared at the ground, noticing patches of snow along with brown needles as she tightly held the reins, remembering how she met Vapkin.

  Sometime earlier...

  Leaving the safety of her mountain hut, Shy rode down to the village, seeking work as a huntress. A good bounty paid well, monsters abounded throughout Torlawn, and she needed to provide for Faith. Slate Locus struck their small farm earlier in the summer, destroying their crops, and now it was fall. Winter would be upon them, and they had no storehouse of food, so only gold would save them.

  She hated returning to the dreadful place, but she had no choice. Shy touched the half-mask, making sure it was in place, then dismounted, led the mare to a trough of water, and then tied the horse to a post before entering Ogre's Wart Tavern.

  Smoke from cigars and pipes filled the half dark room lit by candles. Everyone paused from their business as she entered, and her metal veil gleamed in the firelight. Shy moved to a table near the hearth, and sat, glaring back at those staring at her. The men in the room returned to their business dealings as a barmaid, carrying a round tray, approached her.

  "Get you somethin' to eat?" the blonde wench asked as she stared at her half-mask, wondering if she had seen this woman before, then realized it wasn't the steel plate that was familiar, but the fleshy face and sable hair.

  "No, just tea," Shy replied.

  "Tea?" the wench repeated and then she laughed. "We don't serve tea."

  "What about coffee?" Shy questioned as she scanned the tavern, wondering how one went about getting into the hunter vocation.

  "Yeah, we got coffee," the barmaid answered and then moved off toward the kitchen, mumbling, "I'm sure I've seen her before."

  The Ogre's Wart door bursted open, letting in the afternoon light, and the tavern fell silent again. A woman, who reminded Shy of the well rounded butcher's wife, stepped in, face and eyes red from crying.

  "I need a hunter!" the woman screamed. "The monster killed my husband, Marco the Lancer!" Frantic, she stepped further in, letting the door close, sending the room back into partial darkness as she yelled, "I want it dead." The woman threw a bag on a nearby table as she declared, "Fifty gold pieces to the one who kills it."

  The large amount excited the gathering of hunters.

  "What matter of beast?" a man in a corner with a large ax questioned.

  "A dragon," she answered.

  "Big or small?" a balding man, sitting at the door and smoking a pipe asked.

  "Small to medium, I guess." The woman wiped her eyes as she questioned, "Who shall kill it?"

  "Does it have more than one head?" a man with a gray beard inquired.

  "Blast all these questions!" the woman yelled and slammed her palm on the table. "The monster is known. It's the Man-slayer of Torlawn!"

  The hunter sitting by the door smoking, gapped and his pipe fell to the floor and knocked out part of the tobacco. Many in the room turned their gaze from the woman and ignored her presence.

  "What is it? Why have you turned from me?"

  "The monster you speak of," the man in the corner started. "It's no mere dragon. It's like the beast is possessed. No sword or spear has been able to get past its defenses. Better hunters than us have tried. No one here shall help you."

  Now was her chance, Shy thought and stood. A man, sitting with another man in the darker part of the room also stood and approached the woman before Shy could. He removed his broad brimmed leather hat with a phoenix feather and bowed.

  "Now I don't know if there's a better hunter than I," he began as he lifted and grinned, stroking his red goatee. "So how could one superior have tried to take this dragon?" He walked over to the leather pouch sitting on the table, opened it, and removed ten gold pieces as he said, "My name's Vapkin the Two Sword, and this is my retainer fee, if you want the services of me and my friend, Mrs. Lancer."

  "Hold on a dwarf's moment," his friend said. "You're on your own with this one. Always taking these dangerous jobs and expecting me to stand by your side. Orc rot! I've had it!"

  Vapkin lifted his index finger to Mrs. Lancer and told her, "One moment please." He moved to his partner and whispered, "What are ya doing? It's a paying job, and the Baron wants the money we owe him. He's not one to wait. Remember what he did to that elf fellow." He frowned when his words didn't persuade his friend, so he added, "And what does it matter if it's dangerous? We're hunters, for Gilgamore's sake, and one never abandons a partner in their time of need." Vapkin put his hand on his friend's shoulder and started, "Now..."

  "We're partners no more," his friend declared as he stood and brushed off his hand from his shoulder. "Find some other muggins to partner with who doesn't mind getting killed, and it's you who owes the Baron, not I."

  He stormed out of the tavern, letting light in once more, and then the tavern fell dark again.

  Vapkin sighed, returning to Mrs. Lancer's side and told her, "It would seem I shall have to also decline..." He held up his palm, holding the gold for the woman to take back as he said, "Until I can find myself a new partner."

  Shy moved to Vapkin and took five of the ten coins from his outstretched hand as she informed him, "It seems you have found her."

  Vapkin raised a red eyebrow, sizing up the leather clad huntress with silver armor as he stated, "I've never partnered with a woman before. How many bounties do ya have under yer belt?"

  "None."

  "Oh, a neophyte, so then tell me with who or at what school have ya trained?"

  "Trained?" she uttered as if unsure of his meaning.

  "Yes..." he spoke as he adjusted the quiver on his back, and then Vapkin added as if to make sure they were on the same script, "Training to be a hunter."

  "No one has trained me to be a hunter," she replied. "I was..."

  Impatient with the useless banter, Mrs. Lancer blurted, "Are you going to kill the dragon? If not, I need to make the next town before nightfall."

  "One moment please," Vapkin told her as he lifted his finger to the potential client again as he considered the decision ahead. He would lose the gold unless he trusted this untested huntress, and the bounty would pay off what he owed to the Baron. Vapkin still wasn't sway, so he asked, "What qualifications do ya have?"

  Shy needed the job, so with confidence she answered, "I have a sword, and I can use it."

  Those in the tavern burst out in laughter, but she wouldn't let their mockery deter her. She needed to provide for Faith who had cared for her since she was a baby.

  "That's all good and well, but have ya ever killed?" Vapkin questioned her. "If you haven't realized it yet, that's what ya'll have to do." He moved his finger across his throat and asked, "Can ya take a monster's head?"

  "Yes," she replied. "I might not be the best swordsman, but I am very determined." Shy sneered as she added, "Once I sink my teeth into something, I am like a hungry Griffin with a bone. I shall never let go."

  The image of her doing, so burned in his mind as Vapkin stared at the five coins in his palm. If only he didn't need the gold... If only the Baron wouldn't break his hands... Vapkin turned to her and smiled as if her feeble attempt convinced him and not his desperation as he said, "Well partner, we better get going." He turned to Mrs. Lancer and questioned her, "Exactly what are ya wanting? Do ya want th
e dragon captured alive, his head taken, or..."

  Mrs. Lancer grabbed a fork and stabbed it into the table with great force that it rang out through the tavern as she replied, "I want you to pierce its heart and let it feel the sting and the heartache that I do. I want nothing else, no trophy, just the Man-slayer gone."

  "Then the bounty has been set," Vapkin spoke as he bowed to Mrs. Lancer, then turned to Shy, and told her, "The Man-slayer of Torlawn is said to live in the mountains surrounding this valley. It should be easy to track."

  The present...

  "Easy to track," Shy mumbled, glancing at her throbbing shoulder. "That it has."

  Vapkin trailed the dragon with ease in the white powder. The dragon's pearl blood appeared here and there on patches of dark ground that the snow didn't cover. If the Man-slayer still bled, the dragon should weaken.

  "Do ya need to rest?" he asked of her.

  "No," Shy replied as she frowned for the pain. "I'm fine."

  Her half-mask glinted in the sunlight, breaking through the canopy of pine as they rode on. Some time later, they cornered the dragon as the sun started its descent. They dismounted and let their horses trot off. The Mountains of Torlawn stood behind the reptile, and the hunters in front as the dragon hissed and snarled at them, desperate to escape. The dragon had its own mission it wanted to complete, and it wouldn't let any hunter take it, not just yet.

  "I shall gut you," the dragon threatened, swiping his sharp claws at them. He kept his wounded wing folded close to his body with his good side facing his opponents as he declared, "I shall feast on your bowels!"

  Vapkin unsheathed his swords and spoke to the beast like a child, "Die like a good little dragon."

  He charged the dragon as Shy followed. Vapkin swiped both short blades at the dragon's head, missing as the man-slayer weaved his neck and evaded the blows. The dragon twirled his body, whipping his tail, and struck the man in the side. Vapkin braced for the impact, flew back, hit a tree, and then fell to the ground stunned. He wobbled to his feet as the dragon grinned, and then the dragon realized he lost sight of the huntress. He spotted her just as she lunged with her weapon ready to pierce him. The dragon grabbed hold of the blade with his talon as she attacked, but this time the attack was different. There was power behind the sword, a power brought on by desperation. Sparks flew as the cobalt-blue steel thrust through his clawed grasp, and this time, he wouldn't stop the sword.

  Shy gripped the hilt so tightly she imprinted the metal grooves into her palms even through her gloves as she barreled through the dragon's hold. The Tear glowed blue, sensing her determination and gave her added strength. Shy thrust the blade through the dragon's chest and pierced scale, bone, and finally his heart. She expected to hear the reptile react, either scream in agony or fall limp to the ground, but neither of those happened. Instead, Shy heard the Tear wail like a siren crying above the roar of the ocean. Never had the sword grieved so. Time froze as an enchantment engulfed the adversaries and the area with a blanket of blue-gray mist. Though she couldn't move and Vapkin and the dragon were motionless, her mind continued to function.

  Shy wondered what witchery befell them as she was forced to stare at the dragon's gold-speckled green chest where she'd pierced him. Was it a a curse? Would they remain like this forever or was this some power that the dragon possessed and why he had defeated every foe that had come to take his head? She considered that she had fallen into his trap as many others had and feared this was her end, and so Shy called out, "Faith... I am sorry. I..."

  The mountain scene with Vapkin and the dragon faded as a hazy image appeared. At first, she heard no sound only smelled a sweet scent of flowers. She deeply breathed of the aroma as the warm feel of her sword's hilt lessened until Shy felt as if she held nothing. She floated and watched the scene in front of her as if it were a story told to her. The haze slowly lifted and gave way to a clear background of brilliant colors.