by Laura Lane
DRAGON TAMER
By Laura Lane
Copyright 2012 Laura Lane
Dedicated to :
Bertrand, Andre, Ghyslin, and Gaetan
For their years of patience and encouragement.
I am also grateful to
YOU, the Reader.
It warms my heart
That you have chosen to read this story.
There is nothing that hurts a writer more,
than a story languishing in a file cabinet
unread.
Thank you!
DRAGON TAMER
A puff of sulfurous smoke snaked its way lazily out of the cliff face. The dragon was snoring in his sleep. The thirty-fifth knight crept up the rock shelf with sword in hand. His armor clanked as he pressed his body against the solid wall beside the black opening. He held his breath. He could feel the sweat run down his forehead and slide to the tip of his nose. He wiggled his nose, and the drop of fear fell inside his helmet. There was only one chance to kill the dragon. If he succeeded he would be rewarded with the riches of the kingdom and the hand of the Princess Avrilea. If he failed…
The knight swung himself into the entrance of the cave, raised his sword, and gave a battle cry before rushing into the black hole. An explosion of flames flashed out of the cave. Then there was silence.
As the sun was beginning to set red in the sky, the sound of metal scraping on rock broke the silence. The dragon with half closed sleepy eyes, yawned, and then pushed the armored body out of the cave, with its nose. It watched the smoldering encased carcass clamor down the hillside to rest beside the heap of empty metal shells and bones. Then the dragon stood on the ledge, and spread its webbed wings, revealing an old broken arrow imbedded in its shoulder. It roared its triumph before soaring into the night sky.
* * *
Another knight crossed the drawbridge at daybreak. The hoofs of the white stallion clattered loudly against the wooden planks. The knight had travelled many miles throughout the night on a pathway lit by burning and smoldering fields and forests.
“Who goes there? Friend or Foe? Name yourself if you would live!” a guard called from his post on the stone wall. The knight could see the soldier’s crossbow was drawn and ready to fire.
“My friend, I am Knight Morgan of Fairwinds. My late father was the fearless Sir Champion, Knight of Fairwinds. I have come to rid your kingdom of its dragon problem and restore the free trade between the shires. Your shire has not been the only one to suffer from the rampaging dragon.”
“Friend, you are, but better men than you have tried and died. You may enter. The Royal Officer will meet you in the main court yard.”
Moments passed, then heavy chains pulled open the entrance gate and the knight slowly passed through. The stallion snorted, then whinied its distrust, but was quickly comforted by whispers and gentle strokes from a gauntlet covered hand. The courtyard was still deserted except for a pudgy man overdressed in a red velvet robe and barret. He greeted the knight warmly. The knight dismounted and dropped the reins. The well trained stallion moved off toward the trough and hay pile.
“Sir Morgan, Knight of Fairwinds, so very good to meet you. I am his majesty’s Royal Officer, Fitzhuillum. I am honored that you have considered making yourself available for the good of our Kingdom. You know that the King has pledged to reward you well, if you succeed.
“I am well aware,” replied the knight. “Will I meet the King?”
The knight’s voice had a musical quality to it in spite of being muffled by the armor that completely hid the face. The Royal Officer peered more closely at the slits that protected the sapphire eyes. Hmm, he thought, small stature, a eunuch perhaps, no, no, a boy perhaps, not grown into full manhood. The Fairwinds shire is full of midgets! This boy will be toast.
“You will meet the King, only if you succeed. Then he will gladly give you an audience and reward you well.”
The knight nodded in agreement, “Please tell me the story of the dragon that I might know how to go about my conquest.”
Fitzhuillum grasped his hands together and beamed. He was pleased to be in the position of story teller to an enthralled listener. “Follow me and I will show you where it all began.”
Fitzhuillum whirled around with his robes flying and led the way into the castle through the common area where early risers were breakfasting. Then up a short flight of stone steps that led to a long narrow hallway with slits for window to allow the passage of arrows only. Along the way, the officer talked, filling in the history of the castle and previous residents who had graced its rooms, and the last battle that had been fought when the dragon had arrived. Since that moment, there were no more squabbles with the neighboring Kingdoms, as everyone had to be prepared for the dragon’s rampages which were far more destructive.
At the bottom of a tower, The Officer picked up his robe and ran up the circular narrow stairs with the knight, armor clanging, following closely behind. The Officer stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. He was out of breath as he fished in his robe for a ring of keys.
“This is it,” he puffed, and swung open the door revealing a private quarters in disarray. Part of the wall, that had previously been smashed, was repaired with fresh mortar and stone not from the original quarry. The Officer pointed at it, “That is the wall the beast destroyed!”
The knight stepped around an immense rusty cauldron tipped on its side on the now cold hearth. A large greenish stain was spread out across the flag stones. The Officer stepped towards the window and he beckoned the knight to join him there. The view from the top floor of the tower showed a country side of burnt fields, half dismantled cottages, and jittery cattle and sheep. The Officer shook his head in dismay.
“The dragon was angry last night. No lives were lost, except…” Fitzhuillum’s voice trailed off, and the knight nodded in understanding that it was only the knights who had confronted the dragon, that died. “We let most of the village people live in the north side of the castle, but many have left the shire, to those very shires that we had fought with. The situation is getting desperate.”
“So the dragon has forced you to befriend your enemies. Where did the dragon originate from?” The knight asked as he turned his back to the window and surveyed the humble room with a lumpy bed, a small wooden table with odd shaped containers, and shelving that bent under the weight of large handwritten books. All was overshadowed by the tipped over cauldron on the hearth.
“That we don’t know. It appeared suddenly during the last fierce battle with the Lumbonie shire.” Fitzhuillum said as he watched the knight step around the cauldron to stand before the giant bookcase. “Sir Morgan, you must excuse the appearance of the room. It has been left in its original condition. Whitmoor the Wizard was very particular about his possessions, and except for this wall, everyone is a little bit too superstitious to touch anything. We don’t want to incur his wrath, you understand, although we haven’t seen him since the dragon attack.”
“You haven’t seen him since?”
“ No, we believe he was devoured by the dragon, bless his soul.”
The knight studied the titles of the books. Then he reached up taking a thick book off the shelf, causing another book to fall on its side, raising a cloud of dust. Fitzhuillum cringed at the thud, but said nothing.
“Tell me all,” the knight said, as he opened the book and began turning the pages carefully.
“Well,” Fitzhuillum said, rubbing his hands together, “we were having terrible trouble with our neighbors to the West. The Lumbonies can be quite difficult at times and this time was no different. They were refusing to pay the King’s taxes. They are a little bone headed at times and they sent a message that their land was their country and they owed nothing to his Royalty. So
his Majesty sent them the ultimatum that they had until the fore noon to pay or risk invasion.”
“And?” the knight looked up when the Officer seemed to pause.
“Those Lumbonies are really quite the savages. I think it comes from living so roughly on such ragged terrain. They are mountain men with no scruples!” Fitzhuillum slammed his fist into his left hand. Then taking a deep breath to calm himself, he straightened up and removed his barret briefly to run his right hand through his thinning hair. “They attacked us, surrounding the castle in the dead of night. Unfortunately because of the surprise, we were at a disadvantage. Thankfully, his Majesty was safe away in the Eastern Shire, hunting wild boar. I hate to think what might have happened to him. Whitmoor, our wizard was working on a magical concoction to assist in our victory, when the unthinkable occurred. He was shot by an arrow from an invader who had scaled the tower. Before his apprentice could assist him, Whitmoor had fallen into the cauldron just before the huge fantastic beast arose and ate the invader on its way out.” Fitzhuillum sighed at the memory.
“And what became of the wizard?”
“For truth, we don’t really know. We believe the beast ate him as it rose out of the pot.”
“And what happened to the Lombonies?”
“Oh, the beast quickly dispersed the invaders. The Lombonies don’t dare show their mud stained faces around here, but they do pay their taxes! Unfortunate for us, this is a cranky dragon with a temper that burns crops and fields and a ravenous appetite that craves roast cattle. If you do not succeed, we will know about it very quickly. He is a vengeful dragon.”
“Much like his creator?” The knight replaced the book on the shelf.
“Wizards are a special breed, and you always want to be on their good side,” Fitzhuillum agreed. “You must understand that after three years the Kingdom is becoming barren and the people are starving. The King would be most grateful if you could put an end to this pestilence.”
“Where is the Dragon’s lair?”
“It is a cave on the west side of the Black Crest, a three hour journey from here. You can’t miss it for all the fallen armor that sparkles in the sun.”
“What assistance may I have?”
“Fear is the prevailing emotion here,” Fitzhuillum said and hesitated before continuing softly, after lowering his eyes to the stone floor. “There is no army that will follow you.”
The knight waved a hand as if to brush the thought away.
“Then I request a pack horse to carry supplies. A tent to shelter me from the elements, feed for my horses and for myself, and two hundred pounds of salted meat in small packets as big as a fist.”
Fitzhuillum cocked his head to one side, and raised an eyebrow, but spoke without hesitation. “I think that can be arranged.”
“I also request to stay in this wizard’s room today and for tonight. I want food to be brought and left outside the door. No one is to disturb me.”
“Whatever you wish.” The Officer bowed. “I will have the steed and supplies ready for you at daybreak. We are more than grateful for your service, and we wish you luck.”
The door closed behind the Officer with a hollow thud. The knight sat down on the canvas covered bed of straw, and removed the gauntlets and the steel helmet and ran delicate pale fingers through golden hair. There was a lot of reading, thinking, and planning to be done today.
* **
