Heroes And Fools totfa-2

by Margaret Weis

  Dayn had been up most of the night listening to Kresean’s stories of the Chaos War. His friend was not a Knight, merely a man-at-arms, but he had risen quickly through the ranks as those ranks had died around him. The bloodiest battle, so said Kresean, was the battle for the High Clerist’s Tower against the Knights of Takhisis, but that was nothing compared to the terror of the Chaos army. Those abominations could kill a man without shedding a single drop of his blood. Some howling horrors could suck the wind from a man’s lungs, make him die from suffocation. Others, inky black, could pass over an entire troop of soldiers and swallow them whole. The shadow creatures covered them and they disappeared. No screams. No remains. Nothing.

  “What did you do? How did you survive?” Dayn had asked, thunderstruck by the terrifying nature of the Chaos hordes.

  Kresean shrugged. “I fought and fought. Those that could not be harmed by weapons, we left to the mages. Those that could bleed, we attacked. I owe a lot to the men around me. They saved my life more than once. I wanted to do the same for them, but there is only so much one man can do. Most of us who made it to the end were just plain lucky. I barely remember the point at which I looked up and noticed that no one else was fighting. No Chaos fiends, no friendly faces. It was only later I heard that the leader of the Chaos hordes had been killed, and that was why the rest lost heart. Otherwise, I believe we would all have died. You simply cannot imagine-”

  “Even faced with that, you still fought on,” Dayn whispered, more to himself than to Kresean. But Kresean heard him.

  “What else could I do? My friends all died fighting. I was just waiting for my turn, but my turn never came,” Kresean said. He shook his head, as if warding off a bad dream. “That’s why I want to help these folks with the dragon. Somehow my life was spared. I ought to do something worthwhile with it.”

  Now they were heading to a small town called Feergu, so small that Dayne had never heard of it. It was up in the mountains, and Kresean had got word of a young dragon in the vicinity killing off livestock. Then, a week ago, a young child had turned up missing.

  “How are you going to kill the dragon?” Dayn asked his newfound friend as they rode along. “Won’t you need a dragonlance or something?”

  “Aye, I wish I had one. If it was full grown, there would be no hope without one, but if it is young, I should be able to take it.”

  “You’re really going to fight a dragon?”

  “That’s right, lad, and you’re going to write about it.” Kresean twisted in his saddle, winked at Dayn.

  “That’s beautiful.”

  “Do you think that’ll be something others would want to hear?” Kresean asked, smiling. “Do you think that will raise their spirits?”

  “Definitely.” Dayn felt he would explode from excitement. Kresean was right. This was the only way to write a ballad. Dayn would walk side by side with Kresean. Dayn would be there when the blood was spilled, when the danger ran high, when the victory was gained.

  For the rest of the day, Kresean recounted tales from the Chaos War. By that night Dayn’s admiration for Kresean had grown a hundredfold.

  Two days later Dayn and Kresean rode over the crest of a hill and looked down at their destination. Feergu was a misty little hamlet nestled in a valley. Behind the town, the mountains rose tall, disappearing into the ever-present fog. Dayn felt trapped, hemmed in by those rocky giants. He wondered why the villagers had decided to settle here in the first place.

  The town was a small place by the side of a swiftly flowing mountain river. It didn’t even have a central square. There was just a smattering of stone and wood houses.

  “Let me do the talking,” Kresean said. “I’ve already spoken to the man they sent out looking for help. His name’s Chandael. He was the first to tell me about the reward.”

  “Reward?” Dayn’s brows furrowed. “What reward?”

  “They’ve promised a reward to whoever kills the dragon,” Kresean said.

  “You didn’t tell me we came to collect a reward.”

  Kresean clapped a hand on Dayn’s back. “You’re a crusader, all right, lad. Look at it this way. I know how much you love to sing. You’d do it for free, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t, do you?”

  “No,” the bard had to admit.

  “You don’t have to feel like a thief, just because you earn your living. These people want to give us something. It’s rude to turn it down. If you did someone a favor and they wanted you to stay for dinner, you wouldn’t refuse just because you’d have done it for free, would you? No. You accept their hospitality. Besides, we’ve got expenses to pay for. A little reward never hurts.”

  “Well, I guess. I just thought-”

  “There are practical sides to everything, lad,” Kresean said. “If I make a name for myself, someday I’d like to get a job as a captain of the watch or a councilman in a small city. I like to help people out, but I’ve got to take care of myself as well.”

  Dayn relaxed. “You’re right. Of course. Sorry.” He fiddled with his reins.

  “Think nothing of it, lad. Your heart’s in the right place. No mistake about that. That’s all that really matters.”

  The two riders were noticed quickly as they road into the tiny town. The first few people they saw were quick to duck back into their houses, but soon the bolder citizens stood watching them from doorways. The glum-faced citizens watched the two men as they rode along the main trail that meandered through the cluster of houses.

  “Excuse me!” a man shouted from a distance. “What’s your business here?”

  Kresean turned in his saddle to face the middle-aged villager who spoke to them.

  “Good, sir.” Kresean delivered one of his magnanimous smiles and gracefully slid from his horse. “I spoke with a friend of yours, Chandael. He said you are in need of a swordsman.”

  A short, nervous smile grew on the big man’s face. “You’ve come to help then?”

  “Aye, that I have.”

  The man sighed in relief. Soon twenty people gathered around, patting Kresean on the back and shaking his hand.

  “Chandael’s still gone looking for help,” the big man said. “We didn’t know if he had found anyone.”

  “Well, he found me. Sir Kresean Myrk Saxus at your service.”

  Dayn blinked. Sir Kresean? He wasn’t a Knight.

  Kresean’s smile faded into a serious look. “The drag-on-has anyone seen it again?”

  “No, sir,” the man admitted. “No one has seen it yet, but we’ve followed its tracks, and the way it takes apart a sheep is a terrible thing to see.”

  The villagers nodded their heads.

  “We’ve gone out looking for it but only in large groups. It hasn’t shown its face. We thought one man might succeed where many would fail. I would try it myself, of course, but I haven’t even got a sword.”

  “Of course,” Kresean said, careful not to hurt the man’s feelings. “No one expects you to slay a dragon anymore than you’d expect a soldier to know how to plant a field.”

  The man nodded and seemed to feel better.

  “More animals were lost again this week. Soon we shall all be forced to seek our livelihoods elsewhere. Our poor village barely has enough trade to survive as it is.

  And with poor Kindy’s loss. . We fear more for the safety of our children with every day that passes.” The man’s gaze drifted to the ground.

  “Do you think you can help us?” A woman broke from the throng and headed for Kresean. He turned to her and took her hand in his.

  “What is your name, good woman?” he asked.

  “Cessa. I have two daughters. I’m afraid to send them to herd the sheep. Yet if no one is there to watch them, we might lose the entire flock.”

  Kresean patted her hand. “Cessa, tomorrow at first light my comrade and I will find this rascal and liberate him of his head. I shall bring it back as proof, and you can do with it as you see fit.”

&n
bsp; A flicker of a smile crossed the woman’s face, and a murmur went through the crowd.

  “Thank you, kind sir. Thank you. The gods must have sent you.”

  They were given a room that night in Chandael’s loft, which doubled as an inn for what travelers managed to find themselves in Feergu. Dayn couldn’t sleep, but Kresean’s light snores assured him that everything was going to be all right. He meant to ask the warrior about calling himself a Knight. Probably that was another practical necessity. The man was everything Dayn could’ve asked for in a hero. The bard finally drifted off to sleep, dreaming of shining armies and huge banquet halls in which to sing his ballad.

  The next day Dayn and Kresean bade goodby to the villagers and rode west toward the dragon’s lair. Heavy mist rode alongside them. Moisture clung to Dayn’s skin like wet fingers. The mountain’s bulk was a palpable presence before them. Everything seemed unreal to Dayn.

  At the beginning of the ride, Kresean had been strangely pensive. If ever there was a time to talk of past war stories or to delineate a plan to fight the dragon, now was that time, but as they left the town, Kresean said nothing.

  He’s mentally preparing himself, Dayn thought. Best to leave him alone.

  The entire ride passed in silence. Finally they came to the river ford where the people had lost the beast’s tracks. Farther upstream the valley narrowed into a steep canyon with many caves along the water’s edge, where the people suspected the dragon kept its lair.

  “If this is the ford, then we’re almost there.” Dayn smiled at his companion. Kresean grinned back.

  “We’ll have this rascal’s head stuffed in a sack before lunch.”

  The two crossed the river and crept up the rocky hill on the far side. The ground sloped down gently until it neared the water and dropped off into a sheer cliff. Dayn started to walk along the edge of the cliff. Below was a series of caves. There were half a dozen small openings, their mouths near the water. Among the rocks below, Dayn spotted some scattered bones. The remains were covered with tufts of bloody wool.

  “Ah ha!” Kresean whispered and pulled back from the edge. Dayn did the same.

  “Looks like this is it, lad.”

  “We found his lair,” Dayn whispered excitedly. He could barely contain his excitement. “Do you think it’s in there?”

  Kresean nodded. “I do. Let’s think a moment.”

  “Yes,” Dayn said. “So, do we go in after it right away? Or lure it out?”

  “Easy, lad. Not so fast. We wait.”

  “Wait?”

  “Best to be prudent to start. Let’s see the size of the thing first, then we can make our plan.”

  “Oh,” Dayn said. “Okay.”

  They settled in to watch the cave’s opening.

  When half the day had passed, Dayn thought he was going to die of boredom. He had long ago given up lying next to Kresean and staring at the cave. Instead, he paced back and forth. A short while after Dayn had become bored, so had Kresean. Instead of keeping vigil on the cave, he had unpocketed some game stones and was tossing them in a patch of dirt he had smoothed. He seemed completely unconcerned. He’d invited Dayn to join a few times, but the bard wanted to get on with the adventure. This wasn’t what Dayn had in mind when he thought of dragon hunting. Shouldn’t the whole process move a little faster? Perhaps he was being impractical again. Certainly Kresean knew what he was doing. Still. .

  Dayn didn’t want to follow that thought, but happily he was interrupted by Kresean.

  “It’s finally moving,” the warrior said calmly. Dayn turned around and could hear the scraping sound. Kresean pocketed his stones and moved quietly over to the edge of the cliff.

  Dayn flopped on his belly and stared down at the empty cave mouth. At first, he didn’t see anything, but soon he heard a scraping below. It was coming closer.

  “What now?” Dayn whispered tensely. “Do we ambush it? Don’t you need to be closer? Are you going to stab it as soon as it comes out?”

  “Just wait, lad.”

  Clamping down on his excitement, Dayn waited. He envisioned the beast bursting from its lair, unfurling its wings, and leaping for the sky. A reptilian battle cry would wail forth. Excess moisture would spray from its wing tips like deadly diamonds. It would turn its burning eyes upon the pair of heroes on the top of the cliff and-

  The dreaded dragon lumbered out of the cave.

  Dayn’s excitement melted like a chunk of butter thrown on a fire. He let out his pent-up breath.

  “That’s the dragon?” he exclaimed.

  Kresean was smiling. “Dragon enough for me, lad.”

  Dayn whipped his head about. “What?” He looked back down at the creature. He wasn’t an expert on dragons, to be sure. He would be the first to admit it. However, he had heard tales of the fearsome beasts. He knew about dragonfear scattering entire armies. He knew that dragon fire could destroy a stone tower with one blast, that dragon lightning could blow the tops off of mountains. One shriek from a dragon could freeze a person’s blood. Dragons were filled with magical might and fierce intelligence. Dragons were green, black, red, blue, copper, and gold and so on. This one was the color of mud.

  It was no bigger than his mare. It looked like nothing more than a lizard-a very big lizard, true, but a lizard nonetheless. Whatever that thing was, it was not a dragon.

  The reptile was moving with the lethargy of a cow. It was close to seven feet long, counting the tail, but never a dragon!

  “Are you kidding?” Dayn asked.

  “No,” Kresean replied.

  “But that’s not a dragon!”

  “It is to them, lad. That’s all that matters. We’re here to take care of their dragon. That’s their dragon. Let’s take care of it.”

  Dayn sighed and crouched next to the ledge. He looked disconsolately down at the giant lizard. How was he going to make a ballad out of this? Why hadn’t some villager come and poked a spear into that hapless thing long before?

  Dayn cleared his throat, lightly. “Well, go lop its head off, and let’s get back.”

  “Not so fast. I’ve got a special plan.”

  Dayn looked at him. “You need a plan?”

  “Always have a plan,” Kresean said. “C’mon.”

  Dayn watched as the warrior backed slowly away from the ledge, then rose and started down the hill. It took a moment for Dayn to gather his wits, then he took off after Kresean.

  “What are you going to do?” Dayn asked as he drew up alongside, matching strides with the taller man.

  “A little something I prepared,” Kresean said as they reached the horses.

  “How could you prepare something?”

  “I scouted out this job out ahead of time.”

  “I thought this was your first trip to Feergu!”

  “It is, lad, it is. I’d never been to the village before, just to these caves after I heard about the commotion. Do you think I would have risked our lives coming out here for a real dragon? Be serious.” He unstrapped the flap on one of his saddlebags, removed a large bundle, and set it on the ground. It was a young pig Kresean must have bought in the town. It had been cleaned and dressed and was ready for the spit.

  “But I thought. .” Dayn said. “Why not just go poke your sword into the damn thing?”

  Kresean handed Dayn the pig and smiled. “I don’t relish the thought of being bitten.”

  “What? You faced worst horrors in the Chaos War.” Kresean drew his sword and presented it hilt first to Dayn. “If you’re in such a hurry, why don’t you kill it?” Dayn gazed at the thing over the belly of the dead pig. “I’ve never used a sword in my life!”

  “Well I have, and I assure you that my method is much safer. Brains over brawn, lad. That’s my motto. Now, here’s what I need you to do. .”

  Half an hour later, Dayn and Kresean climbed the hill again. Dayn frowned the entire way. Kresean carried the pig, which was now stuffed with poisonous Frissa leaves.

  They regained their pe
rch and the huge lizard was still there, nibbling at the last remains of one of the sheep carcasses. Kresean wasted no time. He pitched the pig over the ledge. It landed with a thud a few feet from the reptile. The lizard whipped about and hissed. When the pig did not respond, the lizard hissed again, still oblivious to Kresean and Dayn. Slowly, the creature lumbered over. It prodded the thing with its nose a few times and touched it all over with the tip of its forked tongue. Finally, it began feasting.

  The lizard devoured the pig, and the two men settled in to wait again. Dayn was miserable. An hour passed, and the lizard began retching. It vomited for an hour, then it wheezed for an hour. Finally, it flopped onto its stomach and lay there, breathing laboriously.

  Dayn had his hands wrapped around his shins, his head on his knees. He looked at Kresean. “Now what?”

  “Merely the end of phase one, lad.”

  Dayn growled to himself.

  “Come help me with this.” Kresean moved over to a boulder that sat near the cliff. He began pushing it toward the edge. With a sigh, Dayn went to help him.

  Straining and grunting, the two of them pushed the boulder over the edge. The huge rock missed the lizard, but it started a mini landslide. Dozens of stones rained down on the beast, bouncing off its back and legs. The poor creature, lacking the strength to crawl away, was clobbered.

  Dayn look at Kresean expectantly, but the warrior shook his head.

  “Just a few more,” he said, and headed for another stone.

  With a series of three more minor landslides, they managed to completely bury the hapless creature. Kresean climbed down a more gradual part of the cliff and made his approach. Dayn watched as the warrior walked gingerly on top of the pile of rocks and stuck his sword into it. After a few tries, he hit something. He smiled and pushed harder. Kresean stabbed the spot repeatedly until the dirt flowed red. He raised his sword triumphantly and winked at Dayn.

  “How’s that for a tidy bit of dragon slaying?”

  Dayn said nothing.

  “Come on, lad. Help me dig this up, and we’ll get the head.”

  “That certainly was a harrowing experience, wasn’t it, lad?” Kresean winked, patting the dusty, battered lizard’s head that rested on the rump of his horse. The left half of the head had been caved in by the landslides.