Midnight Riders

by Pete Clark

  “It looks like they don’t want to get any closer because of the dragon,” Boone said.

  “It seems that way,” Morgan added. “But they also don’t seem too keen on letting us go. Eventually they are going to throw those spears and we have no place to go.”

  Marion spoke up. “We can’t climb down with them waiting on us. But there must be a way for us to trap them. We can lure them in and maybe we can get them to fall off the cliff somehow.” He scratched his head. He had a mind for traps and knew there was something to be done; he just couldn’t quite figure how it would work. As he was thinking it over, the goblins managed to gather their courage and surged forward. The three men drew their swords and braced themselves for the collision.

  The goblins were less than ten yards away when a concussive gust of wind struck them all. Morgan was thrown to the ground. He gathered himself and, as he picked his head up, he saw a glowing cone of blazing fire spiral past him in a blinding gout. The flames slammed into and through the goblins, liquidating many and setting the rest ablaze. The heat from the burst was nearly overwhelming, and Morgan had to struggle not to faint from the pure heat and the thinning oxygen as the fire consumed the air. The flame coasted down into the passageway they had entered, cleansing it of all things goblin.

  After 30 seconds that seemed like forever, the fire stopped. Morgan saw that Marion and Boone were next to him. They appeared to be okay. All that remained of the dozens and dozens of goblins were a few scattered piles of smoldering bones.

  Morgan rolled onto his back and looked back at the domed roof of the main cavern. Hovering by the cliff and watching them with what Morgan felt was some kind of smile was, of course, the dragon.

  “Hello, moving food. Why have you come here?”

  Morgan had never seen a dragon and really, he was not sure that they existed until today. Still, he felt he had managed to hold up pretty well, all things considered. So he can be forgiven, I think, for the fact that, upon learning that this dragon not only spoke but also spoke English, he began to shriek like a little girl. Marion slapped Morgan to silence him. He looked almost as surprised to be slapped as he was to hear a dragon talk. But he did manage to stop his screaming.

  “Just because you are food does not mean you should not have manners.” The dragon was getting a mite perturbed.

  “Sorry,” said a strangely taking-it-all-in-stride Boone. “We just didn’t expect you to talk.”

  “Racists,” said the dragon.

  ****

  “We need to talk to that guy,” said Prescott.

  “Why don’t we just shoot him,” suggested Lynch.

  “Because,” Prescott stared at him. “I have a feeling that he probably knows something.”

  “Sounds vague,” said Dawes. “Why not shoot him and see if that gets rid of the wraiths?”

  “Because if it doesn’t work, then we still have no idea how to fix this.” Arnold said this as he was looking for a good place to cross the roof, in order to get past the wall of wraiths and into the house that the dark man was standing on.

  “We should try to get there quick,” said Revere. “He seems to be watching us and I doubt he is just going to stand there and wait for us to sidle on up to him to ask him what he knows and how we can stop these things that he is probably controlling.”

  “Good point.” Prescott pulled a rope from his pack. It had a grappling hook on one end.

  “Man, you just have everything, don’t you?” Adams asked.

  “No. I just plan ahead and often have what I need.” He stood up on the raised ledge of the rooftop. He spun the grappling hook in an arc, gathering momentum. After a moment, he flung it and it sailed the thirty or so yards to the opposite building. He tugged it and the hook embedded in some part of the far building’s roof. Prescott glanced around.

  “Here.” He handed the other end of the rope to Lynch and motioned to Revere. “You two get a good grip and hold this taut. The four of us are going to cross to that building. From there, we can get behind the wraith line.”

  “I don’t know if we will be able to hold you guys,” Revere said.

  “We’ll be going one at a time,” Arnold clarified.

  “Even then. Besides uh,” Revere motioned to Adams. Adams was not fat; however, he was the heaviest and it would be difficult for the others to support him.

  Prescott recognized the problem. He did not want to leave Adams behind; he simply did not want him out of his sight. He didn’t trust him and he wanted to be positive there was no more info he could get from Adams before he managed to sneak away. But there was no denying it. He would have to stay.

  “Fine,” Prescott growled. “Adams will also stay and hold the rope. Revere.” He turned to the silversmith and grilled him with his eyes. “If you value our friendship, you will not let this man out of your sight until we return.” Revere nodded nervously.

  Prescott, Arnold, and Dawes began their dangerous shimmy across the rope toward the neighboring building. While they were crossing, the dark man kept staring. He did not seem to care or notice what they were up to.

  When they reached the new roof, Prescott looked back to make sure everything seemed all right. Adams and Revere had their eyes on them, while Lynch had enough common sense to keep an eye on his own roof to make sure none of the wraiths sneaked up on them. Satisfied, Prescott joined Dawes and Arnold at the ledge.

  Beneath them, the wraiths continued to surge against Carpenters’ Hall. They remained focused on the entrances. The barricades appeared to be holding. You had to give them credit. Most of the men in that building were past their physical prime, but they were a motivated bunch. The wraiths were going to have a tough time of it, even if Prescott couldn’t solve the problem.

  They crossed the roof to the side that faced the dark man. He was still there. He continued to stare at Carpenters’ Hall.

  “Maybe he wasn’t staring at us,” said Dawes. “Maybe he is just focusing on the building and the wraiths. Like he’s casting some kind of spell.”

  “Maybe,” said Prescott. “The good news is he isn’t running away. We need to get up on that roof.”

  “So much roof climbing,” Dawes sighed.

  “Yeah,” said Arnold. “But this time we don’t have any rope.”

  They awkwardly climbed/fell their way to the street using a combination of ornate window frames and the chimney.

  Prescott walked around the first two sides of the building, being sure to avoid the side facing the mass of wraiths, as he did not want to draw their attention. The building was a red brick three-story house. There were a few windows on each level with an overhanging eave that could possibly be used to climb, but they were far apart.

  “I think it would be very difficult to climb this. We should just go in the front door.” Prescott approached the door that was parallel with the main doors of Carpenters’ Hall, not two houses down the road. They still had a good view of the wraiths as they charged about trying to get inside. If they turned, they would easily see Prescott and the boys but, fortunately, they seemed locked in on their task.

  Arnold checked the door. It was unlocked. He kicked it open and stood to the side. A dart came whistling out of the doorway at about chest height. It seemed to come from nowhere.

  “Traps,” said Dawes. “How did they have a chance to set up traps?”

  “Who knows how long they’ve been planning this. Well, we know to be careful but we also know that the dark man expects to stay right where he is. He wouldn’t have so much protection if he was just going to run.”

  “That also makes it more likely that he is running things. He needs to stay close and keep an eye on his little army.”

  “Thanks for the recap; now let’s get going.” Prescott slid into the doorway. He used his rifle to gently check the walls and floor as he moved slowly down the corridor. The house looked like it belonged to someone wealthy. There were a number of paintings along the walls as well as a red velvet liner along the floor. The ta
ste in style could be called into question, but it was definitely pricey.

  They managed to get to the first stairway without incident. “I feel like all we do is go upstairs,” Dawes said.

  Prescott ignored him and tapped the bottom step with his rifle. A row of arrows launched from the base of the fifth step. Prescott pivoted with speed that Dawes would swear was superhuman, but one of the arrows still caught him in the right shoulder. He dropped to the floor. He struggled to a sitting position and pulled the arrow from his shoulder with a sharp tug. He looked at the tip with disdain.

  “At least they didn’t have the common sense to poison it.” He rose to his feet. “Stand back.”

  He grabbed a book from a nearby shelf. And no, no secret passage opened. He smacked the first step again. Once again, arrows shot out, but this time no one was there. He hit the step several more times. After the fourth time the arrows did not fly. He smacked it again to make sure. Clear. The trap appeared to be out of arrows. Just to be sure, he got down on his stomach. He retrieved his rifle and tapped each step to ensure there were no more traps. On step eight, more arrows flew, this time from the top step. But with some patience and a bunch of tapping, that trap was also soon out of ammunition.

  They arrived on the second floor. Arnold walked slowly along the hallway. It started to wrap around, likely toward the staircase that led to the top floor. As he passed a painting, a jet of flame burst from the mouth of the man in the picture. It set Arnold’s hat on fire. He quickly tossed it aside and stomped it out. He stared incredulously at the painting.

  “At least they’re finally showing some variety in their traps. All of those arrows were getting redundant.” Dawes gave Arnold an irksome grin.

  Prescott crawled under the frame of the painting as did Dawes. As each passed, another stream of flame shot harmlessly above them.

  “That is pretty advanced,” said Dawes. “I wonder how they managed to build that.”

  Arnold left his smoldering hat on the floor and let Prescott once again take the lead. Prescott prodded the floors and walls with his rifle, but there seemed to be nothing else. A similar adventure occurred with the second set of stairs as happened with the first.

  “These guys must spend a hell of a lot of free time making arrows,” Dawes said as the final group slammed into the wall behind him. They made it to the top of the last set of stairs. Now all they needed to do was find the door that led to the porch upon which stood the dark man.

  Prescott poked the floor with his rifle and a pair of large blades, larger than a man, spun across the floor on a runner of some kind. Prescott was unhurt, but his rifle was split in half just above the trigger. What powder was still in the barrel spilled sadly to the floor.

  “I’ve had about enough of this.” Prescott turned and Dawes handed him his rifle. Prescott took a step back and then lunged forward over the rails. The twin blades again crossed the floor with tremendous speed. Prescott managed to cross the path just before the deadly steel would have ripped his life from him.

  “Do we have to do that?” Dawes asked doubtfully.

  Prescott, from across the divide, merely nodded.

  He had barely finished the movement when Arnold jumped across. The blades moved again. So fast that the sword clipped to Arnold’s left hip was hit and sawed in half. He collapsed to the floor, his left sword still at his hip but now only about a foot long and broken into a serrated edge.

  “Wow, they seem even faster once you’re in the air.” Arnold exhaled loudly and fingered his broken left sword. “Good thing I carry two,” he said as he looked to the sword on his right hip.

  Dawes did not like the look of this. He was a fantastic horseman and fairly spry, but he was losing confidence in his ability to cross these blades without magically being transformed into two Dawes. He paused, thinking. The other two looked back across from their relative safety. They could see the nervousness in him, so they waited, unmoving. Finally, Dawes had a plan. Not much of one, but it could provide the extra second he felt he needed.

  He took a long slow breath, then steadied his feet and got himself into a position to spring forward. He pulled out his sword; since Prescott already had his rifle, he was running out of weapons. Dawes steadied himself. Then he tossed his sword slowly across the rail. The blades immediately soared out and shattered the weapon. The millisecond the blades crossed the center of the room, Dawes leapt. It took the blades a second to finish their first path, reset, and then zoom across again. The resulting delays gave Dawes enough time to fly past and land safely. He got up smiling and pointing to his head. “A little thinking goes a long way,” he chuckled.

  Arnold cuffed him gently across the head. “You should have thought of that before we went. Also,” he pointed to Dawes’ destroyed sword, “what do you plan to fight with?”

  He took his rifle back from Prescott and patted the pistol at his waist. “I’m still prepared.”

  With a slow shake of his head, Prescott turned toward the nearby door. It was a wooden doorframe that featured a huge pane of glass. Odd design for an outer door, thought Prescott. Through the glass, they could see the dark man. He was still standing in the same position. From where they were now, he had his back to them.

  “Hmm, maybe this won’t be as tough as we thought.” Dawes checked that his rifle was loaded, Arnold drew his good sword, and Prescott pulled both of his pistols, now fully loaded, as they all approached the glass door. It was locked.

  “So they leave the thick oaken door on the first floor open, but the huge fragile glass door that leads to the inaccessible porch is locked. That makes sense,” Dawes said.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Prescott aimed his pistol at the door.

  “Hang on,” said Arnold. “Don’t you think he will notice the gunfire and shattering glass? Perhaps we should be more subtle.”

  Prescott considered it. “I don’t think he is aware of what is happening at all. He looks like he is in some kind of trance. If he doesn’t know we’re here by now, then I can’t imagine this will make much difference.” Prescott looked from Dawes to Arnold. They both nodded. He aimed at the door and fired.

  ****

  This dragon is surprisingly reasonable and eloquent, Marion thought as he rode on its wing down toward the cave floor.

  “You know,” said Oliver the dragon. “It is rare for a dragon such as myself to encounter food that is as interesting as yourselves. In particular, I enjoy Mr. Morgan’s commentary on the tactics of war.”

  Earlier, when it appeared that the dragon was about to eat them, they endeavored to engage the large creature in conversation. As it turned out, the dragon, whose name they had recently learned was Oliver, was rather lonely and quite interested in a good chat. They had quickly engaged him with random questions about his interests, which at first seemed entirely focused on eating and shiny things. Gradually, they started to talk of recent political events, though, and this fascinated Oliver to no end. After a number of hours chatting freely about the events of the outside world, the dragon offered to give them a ride down to the cave floor so that they could be more comfortable. Morgan had been regaling Oliver with military history and analysis of tactics. Oliver was deeply engrossed in this. However, after some time, Marion started to feel like maybe they should ask the dragon the way out.

  “Oliver,” Marion started. “As you know from what we’ve said over the past few hours, we could really use some help finding the way out.”

  “Oh, right,” said the dragon. “But I wonder if you will ever visit me again if I tell you how to leave. Also, although I am quite sure I am not a ripper as you call them, since I am many hundreds of years old and your rippers have only been around for a scant three hundred it seems, I don’t know if I want to lose all the rippers. They are stupid and easy to catch and some are quite tasty.”

  “You make two very compelling points and we respect your concerns,” said Marion. “But let me address them. First, you may like the rippers; however, if we don’t
stop the rippers then eventually there will be no humans and are not the humans tastier than the rippers?”

  “Go on,” said the dragon.

  Morgan was a touch nervous about Marion advertising his deliciousness to the giant dragon in front of them.

  “Further,” continued Marion. “We will each make you a promise. Trust me, good sir; we are men of our word. We shall each promise to visit you on occasion. Now, I will not promise that it will be often, as who knows what business could call us away, and, as you know, life is fragile. But we shall visit when we can. Each of our homes is not so far a journey from here. Generally, a week or so each. We shall visit you, as we consider you a friend.”

  Boone was not so sure he would be stumbling around this cave again, but what the heck. As long as the dragon didn’t eat him; he seemed a decent fellow. “Indeed, Oliver. I feel I can make such a promise.”

  The dragon hearing his name spoken was overcome with a sense of happiness. Perhaps even a dragon could have a friend, he thought. For a moment, he debated about just eating them, but decided against it. They seemed reasonable and friendly; why not take a chance?

  “The exit is actually not that far. We just need to fly up that shaft over there and we will come out on top of the mountain. From there, it is an easy glide to the other side,” said the dragon.

  Boone looked up toward the “shaft” that Oliver had indicated. It was a hole in the dome that was utterly unreachable unless you could fly. The walls appeared to be flat and devoid of handholds. It seemed now to Boone that Mahrak’s second part of the gauntlet was either meant to be impossible or meant to force them to befriend the dragon. Lucky us, he thought.

  “So do you think you can take us up and out there?” Marion was worried he was pushing his luck, but he wanted to get going.

  “Yes. I think that I will try to trust you. But if too much time goes by and you don’t visit me, then I will unleash destruction upon the lands, seek you out, and murder you and all of your friends and family.” He paused and smiled a dragon smile. “But it won’t come to that.”