The Ragged Man

by Tom Lloyd

  On cue a low sound rumbled across the valley like distant thunder. The fighting dog hesitated and stared into the distance, then started to bark a challenge. Ilumene kept his eyes on it, moving to one knee and working his muscles to loosen them up after the wait.

  The only real armour he was wearing were the long steel-backed gloves he used to cover the scars on his arms. The rest of his outfit was tailored black linen, like he’d worn when still a member of the Narkang Brotherhood, and a stiffened brigandine. It wouldn’t stop the dragon’s claws, but it might protect his ribs if he was knocked flying.

  A second rumbling growl was followed by a single whoosh of wings against the air. The dog faltered, turning in a circle, trying to run and bark, while keeping its eyes on the dragon. Ilumene followed the beast’s approach by watching the dog, gauging distance by the increasingly frantic barks.

  Two more wing-beats, then a thump as the dragon landed. From the sound it was just around the corner of the building. For a moment it didn’t move, then there was a loud hissing rasp, like a snake moving through leaves, and the dog yelped in fear as the creature advanced into view.

  Ilumene gaped for a moment; it was vast, bigger than any living creature he’d ever seen. The dragon’s body was long and lithe with a bulky knot of muscle at the base of its wings, a deep emerald colour that shone in the pale winter light. It had three sets of black horns; one shorter pair swept low and forward to protect its throat, a long recurved pair above those and a third set pointing back to complete the protection of its head. The dragon’s muzzle was thick and snub-nosed, sporting a large pair of upper canines — inelegant but powerful.

  Ilumene glanced over at the tunnel doors. They remained closed, ready to jerk back the moment the order came.

  ‘Now’s our chance,’ he breathed, looking back at the dragon. Its wings were half-furled, doubled over, but standing high on its back like a butterfly’s. ‘Gods, it’s a perfect target.’

  He jumped to his feet, waving frantically towards the tunnel doors. ‘Now! Now, you bastards!’ Ilumene screamed as loud as he could, ‘Fire!’

  The dragon snarled and jerked its head around. Seeing them it half-turned, pushing up from the ground with its powerful forelimbs, but dropping back with a jolt as one snagged. The beast roared with fury and lunged forward but the movement was awkward as a second cable on the ground hooked its rear talons.

  ‘Fire, you bastards!’ Ilumene roared again, waving his axe madly to keep the dragon concentrating on him.

  For a moment nothing happened and he felt a cold trickle of terror run down his spine, from the left a black bolt flashed across the valley and sped past the dragon, causing it to rear up in surprise and rage. Now it was facing the doorway where the shot had come from. It roared at the new threat, a deep bellow magnified by the cliff-walls that Ilumene felt like a blow to the head.

  He clapped his hands over his ears, taking a step back as the dragon moved and the cables hidden under the turf whipped up like striking snakes. Before the creature could take the strain and rip the cables from the ruined building they were anchored to, a black spot appeared in the centre of one of the pale green wings and caused it to billow like a sail.

  The dragon reeled from the blow, its right wing pitching over its back before it caught its balance. It roared again, and tried to leap up into the air to gain some advantage, but only one wing opened and the powerful jump became an ungainly fall as its right wing remained folded, pinned by the fish-hooked ballistae bolt caught in it.

  ‘Come on!’ Ilumene yelled to his companions, feeling the familiar sense of bloodlust welling up inside.

  The others jumped up and Aracnan moved alongside Ilumene. Out of the corner of his eye Ilumene saw a flash of white and realised the winged Litse white-eyes had emerged, but he didn’t slow his charge. The dragon had its back to him, concerned only with the source of the bolt. With an ear-splitting roar the dragon spat a gout of flame towards the door. Ilumene couldn’t see what it hit, but he took the opportunity to close the ground, crow-bill axe raised above his head.

  He and Aracnan reached the dragon together. Ilumene ran up the beast’s planted hind leg and jumped off it, throwing himself up onto the body of the beast so he could put his entire weight behind the blow Aracnan headed for its belly. While its wing was still outstretched Ilumene slammed the axe below the muscles at the wing’s base.

  The axe bit in, and was torn from his grip, and Ilumene rolled clear as the dragon bellowed again, recoiling from the blow and rearing, just as Aracnan struck. The Demi-God dropped at the last minute and let his momentum carry him right underneath the creature’s body, slashing its belly as he passed.

  Ilumene fought his way upright. As he scrambled away he glimpsed two Litse in the sky above him, hurling javelins at the dragon’s armoured head. A moment later he ducked as he heard the thwack of a crossbow bolt strike the dragon’s scales and glance off, followed by the deeper thunk of the tail against an armoured body. Ilumene threw himself to the ground and crawled out of range as fast as he could.

  Once back he saw figures surrounding the dragon, all looking pathetically small against it. One of the Litse swooped too low, trying to get close enough to hit its eyes, and the dragon bit like a striking snake. The Litse howled as his leg was caught and he was dragged from the sky, tossed up and bitten again before being thrown away and crashing in a broken heap against the cliff. One of the hunting noblemen tried to exploit its distraction, but while the dragon snapped at another Litse it crushed him with a foot.

  Ilumene pulled his dagger and cut the ties that affixed his second axe to his back, catching it as it dropped. The dragon’s head swung past him, focusing on the noblemen running at it. With a flick of its tail the dragon bowled the pair over, swatting them with ease. As that happened the Jesters ran forward with long easy strides, their weapons drawn but in no apparent rush. Captain Latiar of the Ruby Tower was behind them, carrying a boar-spear, but they all leapt away when the dragon spat a ball of flame at them.

  The nearest Jester wasn’t quick enough. His leg was caught by the unnatural flames and in a moment the fire had caught on his clothes and it had swept up to consume his entire body before anyone could attempt to help him. The Demi-God’s grey-skinned brothers watched the thrashing figure for a moment, all emotion hidden by their leather masks, then charged again. The dragon raked at the air with its dextrous forelimb, forcing both to stop, or be eviscerated.

  And a black-armoured figure leaped from the cliff-face onto the creature’s back.

  The dragon reared again, roaring furiously as Lord Styrax hacked down at the shining green scales underfoot. The impact of sword and scales produced an explosion of light that momentarily blinded Ilumene, and when his eyes cleared he saw the dragon had reached around to gore Styrax, only to have one of its long horns chopped in half by his fanged broadsword. The dragon snarled and shook Styrax off its back. The white-eye seemed to be expecting the move, leaping clear and rolling to his feet in one smooth movement. The dragon clawed at him with a forelimb and he threw himself aside, rolling again as it furrowed the ground.

  The dragon turned to follow him, swinging its tail around in a wide arc to keep the remaining Jesters clear. Its head dipped again and Ilumene saw a blast of red sparks from Styrax’s sword as he warded off the blow. The white-eye struck back, two swift blows that missed, but gave him enough time to leap left again and avoid being gored. A green haze suddenly filled the air around the dragon and the Jesters cried out, covering their faces as though a sudden inferno had flared up.

  Darting streams of emerald light began to race through the air like hunting swallows, arrowing down at Styrax and forcing him to parry strike after strike. A heartbeat later and his sword flared red, and the streams started to explode as Styrax struck them. Once the majority had been destroyed Styrax chanced another blow at the dragon, the light of his sword extending from the tip like a whip to slash across its broad chest again and again. The dragon spat fire at him, b
ut a white shield appeared between the two and the fire was absorbed. It tried to turn and bring its tail to bear, hammering it down towards Styrax’s head, but he battered it aside.

  The white-eye reached forward with his scarred left hand and grabbed at the air, drawing the white shield back to his body. As it reached him the magic expanded and became a swirling ball of blistering energy. He planted his feet and threw the ball forward, where it exploded on the dragon’s chest. The impact drove it upright, its one good wing spreading to steady it. It was the opportunity Styrax had been waiting for, and he was already moving.

  He threw himself forward in a blaze of magic and lunged with his fanged sword. The points bit and drove deep between the scales of the dragon’s forelimbs. The dragon howled and raked down, an explosion of emerald fire and sparks obscuring them for a moment before it cleared.

  Styrax was still standing. He cut left and right, severing one clawed toe entirely, and the dragon slammed its head down, unmindful of the risk, and sideswiped Styrax before he could reverse his sword, knocking the Menin lord from his feet.

  General Gaur saw the danger and tried to buy Styrax time, throwing his huge axe so the dragon had to dodge instead of readying itself for the killing blow. The beast warrior hurled himself aside to avoid the dragon’s lashing tail that crashed down a moment later.

  Ilumene blinked. Styrax was up again, rising higher than any normal man could and hacking at the dragon’s neck. Through a mist of blood and magic Styrax struck again, then cut upwards with a reverse-blow. The injury didn’t seem to slow the dragon, but this time its attempt to gore Styrax was parried and he caught it a glancing blow on the jaw before it pulled back.

  Shapes appeared around Styrax’s head, too fast for Ilumene to make out before they exploded in white sparks. In response Styrax cut a circle in the air, a trail of golden light spinning and coalescing in its wake. The dragon lashed down, gripping the ring with its claws to rip it away. Somehow it held long enough for Styrax to duck underneath and cut upwards at the dragon’s stunted dew-claw.

  The dragon jerked back immediately, forelimb curling protectively inwards, and Styrax moved closer, sword swinging across his body to fend off its other set of claws. It lunged down at him again with its horns, only to be smashed aside with a sudden flare of magic that opened up its defences. Styrax immediately hacked deep into its massive jaw, putting his full weight into the blow.

  The beast reeled and as it pulled back Styrax swung up in another long loop. A golden arc appeared above the dragon’s head, yanking it down as he tugged at the air with his left hand. The head came back into range and Styrax roared with triumph as he hacked into its throat with all his unnatural strength.

  Not trusting that to be the killing blow he struck again and again while the golden tether held it, but still somehow the beast strained and burst through the restraint. Styrax grabbed a handful of empty air and pulled himself higher off the ground to chop again at the dragon’s long neck. He was forced to twist in midair and barely avoided the lunging jaws.

  He grabbed the dragon’s horns for leverage and somehow hauled himself up so he could slam Kobra’s double-tip into its throat, thrusting up with the huge broadsword as he dragged down on the horn. Surrounded by a glittering corona of magic Styrax forced the head down below his body and hacked into the wound as hard as he could.

  Dragon head and white-eye fell to the ground together. Styrax was up in a flash to cut again at the beast, but Ilumene could see it was unnecessary. The dragon’s huge body convulsed and spasmed briefly, then slumped still.

  It was dead, but Styrax didn’t stop, slashing at the corpse with all the fury of an enraged white-eye, with all the passion of a man grieving. When finally he realised it was over the beast’s head was attached only by a few sinews. He let his sword fall from his hands, forgotten, and slumped to his knees. The echoes faded and a sudden silence fell over the scene.

  Ilumene looked around. Even the Jesters looked stunned by the battle they had witnessed. It had been mere moments since Styrax had leaped into the battle. Neither of the surviving Demi-Gods had managed to take a step closer. Their sword-tips rested on the grass. The dispassionate Ilumene had to remind himself to breathe again as he stared at the figure in black armour.

  Styrax knelt with his head bowed, a foot away from a horn almost as long as his own body, staring at the corpse but not making a sound. Slowly, carefully, he got to his feet and retrieved his sword, wiping it and sheathing the weapon before he turned his back on them all.

  And you thought to fight him, Lord Isak? Ilumene thought with wonder and scorn. As a pawn of Azaer’s machinations you were a fool. As a boy trying to choose his own destiny, you were even worse. It’s a shame you were so keen to run towards your own death. I’d have enjoyed that moment when you realised you never stood a chance against us.

  CHAPTER 10

  For once King Emin slept late, only waking mid-morning at the hysterical chatter of a blackbird somewhere close to his bedroom window. Camatayl Castle was quiet despite the hour. He got out of bed and pulled on the nearest clothes before pushing open the shutters to look out of the window.

  The fields beyond were largely empty, just a few dozen shaggy goats and a herder perched on a drystone wall. The tower walls were so thick that he had to lean right out before he could see the nearest of Kamfer’s Ford’s buildings. A gust of cold air chased him back inside the room and he pulled the shutter with him. He’d need another layer before he headed outside.

  In the next room he found Sir Creyl, Commander of the Brotherhood, and one of their newer recruits, Kap Daratin. Sir Creyl, a former gangster, sat in the furthest corner so he could watch both entrances to the room. Despite there not being enough room at the small table, Daratin was trying to do the same, his bowl of rice porridge perched on the corner of the table. The room itself was plain, whitewashed plaster adorned only by a trio of tiny gold-inlaid icons and a simple woven rug on the floor.

  The young man flinched when King Emin entered, new enough as a King’s Man to have to fight the urge to stand when his monarch entered the room. He came a hair’s breadth from tipping the whole bowl into his lap, but like all members of the Brotherhood he had lightning reactions.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ the two men said together, with Daratin continuing, ‘Shall I fetch you some breakfast?’

  Emin nodded. There were servants in the tower, but this wasn’t an official trip. Away from the eyes of polite society the Brotherhood usually waited on him; it avoided the requirements of ceremony and protocol. When Daratin had left King Emin took his seat at the table. Sir Creyl gestured towards a clay bottle but Emin shook his head.

  ‘Even watered down I’ve never had a taste for beer at breakfast.’

  Sir Creyl smiled, his ice-blue eyes sparkling. ‘It’s so weak you can hardly call it beer; best way to start a day.’

  ‘I think I’ll start with red tea, thank you. My head feels heavy enough this morning without help.’

  ‘That’s not like you; you’re usually insufferable from dawn onwards. Why do you think I drink?’

  Emin ignored the quip. ‘I know, but I don’t even feel like I slept. Must have though, I remember dreaming of my son as a toddler, trying to run from a Menin Army.’

  ‘Ah, a new father’s fears; I remember them well!’ Creyl laughed. ‘Why do you think I started drinking?’

  ‘It’s guilt at leaving so soon. Once things are set up here maybe I’ll be able to return to Narkang for a while.’

  ‘Once that old bastard Aladorn is signed on, you’ll be well covered here,’ Sir Creyl declared. ‘He won’t refuse you, no matter how old he’s got.’

  Emin pictured the man who’d helped mastermind his conquest of the kingdom, twenty years previously. General Dall Aladorn had been a cantankerous and belligerent drunk of fifty summers then. Sir Creyl was right that he’d be keen to prove he still had what it took to win a war. Emin’s only concern was that the general had pickled his brain out of sheer bor
edom; he wanted to see the man himself before asking him to prepare for invasion.

  ‘We’ll find out when he gets here,’ Emin said eventually. ‘For the moment, could you give me a moment’s peace? Perhaps go and see to our guests’ needs?’

  Sir Creyl left without a word, recognising the order easily enough. When Daratin returned with a stack of honeyed flat-breads he set the plate on the table and exited quickly himself. Emin picked at the food, his appetite pretty nonexistent. He was just about to give up and ring for his tea when there was a knock at the door.

  ‘What now?’ he sighed before calling for the person to enter.

  He frowned, not immediately recognising the woman in the long dress with a green scarf half-covering her face. When he did he almost fell off his chair as he scrambled up, reaching for a sword he’d forgotten to buckle to his hip.

  ‘Oh, that’s not very friendly,’ said the young woman, pointing a slender finger at him and making a sharp downward motion. ‘Sit.’

  Emin felt an irresistible weight appear on his shoulders and drive him back down into his seat. She stepped forward and gave him a fond smile, one he recognised all too well.

  ‘This can’t be,’ he muttered. ‘It’s impossible! What sort of trick is this?’

  ‘Aren’t you pleased to see me?’ she asked, shutting the door behind her and walking to the centre of the room. Her dress was elegant but old-fashioned, twenty years out of date. She was no more than twenty-five summers old, with bright yellow eyes and auburn hair hanging in a plait over her left shoulder.

  ‘If you really were my sister,’ Emin growled with mounting anger, ‘then yes, I would be delighted. But she’s dead. If you’re looking to make an enemy of me you’re going about it in the right way.’

  The woman sat at the table, still smiling. ‘You have a life-size painting of her in your throne room and one of the finest buildings in Narkang bears her name, yet you’re not glad to see her in all her beauty before you. You humans are fickle.’