The Last Stand of the Dragon

by Hanson, N. J.

  Abel was right, he must be the cheapest drunk in the world if little more than a pint did this to him. Of course, Phillip and those guys drank at least three or four a day. Richard would be more surprised if he ever saw them sober.1

  The only reason he’d gone to the tavern immediately after his confession was to clear his mind. The priest’s words helped, but not as much as he hoped. Ever since he saw it, all Richard could think about was that dragon thing. Sir Ardose’s told him not to speak of it, and so far he hasn’t, not even to the priest during confession, and amazingly not while drunk yesterday. But even now with e pulsing headache, he mind still went back to flapping wings and blazing flames.

  Someone should know. He seriously felt this was so important he would defy the wishes of his lord if it meant possibly saving people, and he would’ve if not for the priest’s reassurance. He wanted to tell the people, wanted to warn them about the fire-breathing monster that now inhabited their mountain, or at least inform them of his suspicions. Besides, if Ardose was right and the dragon was long gone by now, then there was no real harm in telling anyone, right?

  He became so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t see the person approaching him until they were standing literally right beside him. “Richard? Hello? Are you feeling alright?”

  “Huh?” He looked up and found himself staring directly into the emerald-green eyes of Rachel. “Oh, Rachel.” He said. He hurriedly straightened himself out, pushed his chest out and held his chin up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” His cheeks flushed pink.

  “You didn’t hear me very well, either.” A coy smile peeked up at the corners of Rachel’s lips. “I’ve been calling your name for the past few minutes. Is everything okay?”

  Richard cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah. Never better. Why do you ask?”

  “You don’t seem to be here. I mean, you’re standing in front of me, of course, but your mind seems to be far away in a different place.” Rachel said. A light breeze picked up and rustled her wavy, fire-red hair.

  “Sorry,” Richard said, “I’m just recovering from Day-After-Drinking. Thought maybe chopping for firewood for the winter would help settle my mind.”

  “I’d assume it's dangerous to swing an axe while still re-covering from Day-After-Drinking.” Rachel quipped. “Actually, I’m here to talk about my brother.”

  “Dennis?” Richard asked. “Yes, I’ve met the boy, a good lad. How is he doing?”

  “I don’t know, he’s been missing for days.”

  “Days?” Richard asked. “Doesn’t he normally go hunting? People can be out for a while on a hunt.”

  “Not Dennis.” Rachel shook her head, a look of concern over her face. “He’d never be gone for this long. I’m worried that something might have happened to him, but with Sir Ardose away I didn’t know who else to turn to other than you.”

  Richard nodded. “I see. I’ll do what I can. Tomorrow I’ll organize a search to go looking for him. I can’t guarantee anything, but I will try.”

  Rachel gave a sweet smile and bow lightly. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You don’t need to call me that, my lady. I am not a knight.”

  “And I am not a true lady, either.” She chuckled. “Thank you, once again. It means a lot to me.”

  “I’m glad I can help.” Richard took her hand and kissed it. Her face turned almost as red as her hair. She turned and started walking away. Richard returned to his wood chopping.

  Dennis was missing, and now his sister was concerned for his safety. These thoughts weighed heavily on Richard’s mind. He’s never spent much time with the younger boy, but he knew Dennis could handle a bow and arrow effectively, probably even better than himself.

  A terrible idea formed in his head. He stopped his axe mid-swing. Rachel had said her brother went missing while hunting in the woods. What if Dennis was attacked by the dragon while hunting in the mountains?

  He set the axe down and was about to call back to Rachel, but stopped himself. Richard felt it better not to disturb her. He grabbed his axe again and brought it down on the chunk of wood.

  Chapter 9

  A cone shaped pile of rocks, sticks, wood, and leaves smoldered within a cave in the mountain. The female dragon stood over it, she watched with intently undivided attention. Was it the right temperature, or was it too cold? She opened her mouth and a burst of flames scorched the rocks.

  Gingerly, the dragon pushed a single rock aside and looked inside. Two large, oval-shaped, off-white objects rested inside the burning mound. They were her eggs.

  Only three days had past since she mated with the male, and already she had laid the eggs. This pile of rocks and debris was her nest to keep them warm in these freezing mountains. The rocks protected the eggs from any predators, (although that was very unlikely in the depths of a dragon’s lair) and shielded the eggs from a direct blast of fire. They also acted as miniature heaters, absorbing heat from the fire as it burned and then releasing it slowly back onto the eggs. The female knew through instinct that if the nest became too cold her eggs would die, and this she would not allow.

  She heard a flutter of leathery wings approach from outside the cave. She turned towards the sound, her lips curled back and teeth bared. A growl rumbled in her throat. She must be cautious. This was her first brood, and she would not allow any harm to come to it. If it was required of her, she would die, or kill, for her eggs. Nothing was allowed near her nest without her approval, and getting that was not easy. She blasted the nest with another burst of fire, and then crept to the entrance of her cave.

  The male dragon settled to the ground outside the cave, his wings folded tight against his body. He’d just returned from a hunt, an unsuccessful hunt at that, while the female guarded the nest. She would not be pleased with this, but it was unavoidable. Food was already scarce in these mountains before he arrived, two mature adult dragons was greater than this ecosystem could support.

  Had he returned with nothing to show, the least the female would do is banish him from her domain. The worst case scenario would be her tearing his throat out while he was still alive. Fortunately, he had anticipated this and brought something he hoped would appease her.

  She emerged from the cave entrance, stepping out of the darkness and into the light. She glared intently at the male expectantly. She was larger than him and heavier by about five hundred pounds, in a fight there would be no contest. The male backed away with his head dipped low in a submissive stance. He dropped a smoldering lump from his mouth. The female inspected it, nudging it with her snout.

  Another rock for the nest.

  The female looked down at the rock, then back up at the male. After a moments hesitation, she stepped aside and allowed entrance. The male scooped the rock back up with his mouth and cautiously entered the cave, the female’s eyes never left him for a second. Only once he disappeared completely in the cave did the female spread her wings and take off. Now it was her turn to hunt, and his turn to guard the nest.

  The male walked through the cave until he came to the smoking pile of rocks. He dropped the new stone on top of the others. He sniffed at the nest, inspecting it. Instinct told him it was too warm. Just like the female was driven to keep the nest warmer, he was driven to cool it down. The warmer a nest, the more likely the eggs would produce males, while the cooler it was the better likelihood for female hatchlings. Any other male dragon, even a son, would compete with him for territory, food, and mates.

  Slowly, only a few at a time, he started to pull rocks off the nest. The life-giving heat flowed away from the nest as each stone was removed. The temperature steadily dropped. He would make sure to remove any potential rivals before they could even hatch. However, in doing so, the warmth that kept the embryos alive in these freezing mountains diminished.

  The female returned the next day from yet another unsuccessful hunt. She flared her wings and banked to land, the wind kicked up a cloud of fresh powdery snow. They male lay at the mouth of the cave, w
aiting for her.

  That was not right. He should be inside with the nest, what was he doing out here? Immediately, she could tell something was wrong. Terribly wrong. As the male woke and stood to greet her, she snarled, her teeth bared. The male backed away with his head held low.

  The female charged past him into her cave. She ran until she came to the nest. Her fears were confirmed. Rocks were scattered all around, the fire inside had burned down to only a few small embers. And one of the eggs had been smashed open, the broken pieces of shell lay scattered across the floor. The baby dragon embryo, mostly formed, lay cold and motionless in a pool of the egg yoke.

  No! She would not let her first clutch die! The female let out a screaming roar, a blast of fire erupted from her maw and engulfed the remains of the nest, reigniting the embers. The second egg was still intact, and might survive. This, however, was a moot point for her. The male had not only neglected the nest, he had deliberately killed one of her babies, and this she would not tolerate.

  She charged back out of the cave in full rage attack mode. The male was caught by surprise when she pounced on him, her claws and teeth tore into his skin. He roared in pain as her fangs sank into the soft flesh around his throat.

  She shook back and forth, then threw him to the ground. The male staggered on his feet, blood oozing from the injury in his neck. She roared again, her claws slashed at the air between them. In another moment she would be on him again, and this time would not let go until he was dead.

  The male turned and ran. He opened his wings and took off with a powerful down stroke. He flew as fast as he could as if his life depended on it, which it really did. If he tried to land anywhere near this territory again the female would not hesitate to rip his throat out.

  But for now, she let him go. She did not care if that coward left or not, or even if he lived or died. Her main concern now was the safety of her remaining egg and to keep it alive. She walked back into the cave and reformed her pile of rocks around the one remaining egg, picking them up with her mouth and dropping them in a circular pile around it.

  From now on, she needed to stay close to the nest at all times, but she also needed food and couldn’t leave for a day at a time to get it. Hunting now would take too long with no guarantee of making a kill. What she needed was an easy supply of food that would also let her stay close to the nest.

  She had no choice; she would have to raid the farms of men. It was a habit she’d developed and many times tried to break, but always fallen back to.

  Human settlements always had a large number of prey animals to choose from that were easy to kill. But even with such a strong temptation, she was hesitant to go. She stood by the nest. Her eyes moved frantically between her egg and the entrance of the cave. She knew her only option was to steal from the humans again, but she was finding it hard to bring herself to it. The last time she started stealing from them almost got her killed, as did the time before that. Sometimes, the scar left by the arrow in her chest still ached.

  At the moment, no other choice existed. She would have to kill the human’s livestock. The dragon breathed another stream of flames on the nest. With the rocks bathed in fire, she went to the entrance of her cave, flared her wings and took off, her sights on the village.

  Chapter 1 0

  R ichard pushed open the door of a workshop. The sign above the door outside read Brown’s Blacksmith. There were few windows, the room was cast in dark shadows. Soot covered almost everything in fine layers of black dust. Richard saw through a doorway the bright glow of a furnace and he heard the rhythmic clanging of a hammer striking metal against an anvil.

  He slammed the door hard behind him. The clanging stopped. A voice called out from the workroom. “I’ll be right up there.” The was a hiss of steam as the metal was plunged in a barrel of water, soon followed by the grinding of coals as it was shoved back into the furnace.

  A well muscles, bald man stepped out of the workroom. His arms were thick and powerful, with veins running along them all the way from wrist to shoulder. A leather apron hung around his neck which was covered in ash and scorch marks. His face and hands were also covered with soot and his thick beard had places where the hair was singed.

  The blacksmith, Mr. Brown, rubbed his hands on a dirty rag. “Hello, sir.”

  “Hello, Mr. Brown.” Richard said. “I’m here to pick up my order. It is done, yes?”

  “Absolutely.” Mr. Brown replied. “Just let me go get it.” He stepped back into the workshop and came out with a sword in his hands. The blade was covered in a tanned leather scabbard, and the handle was wrapped in leather straps with gold glittering underneath. The every end of the hilt was adorned with a roaring lion’s head. “I must say, this is probably my best work to date.”

  Richard grabbed the word by the hilt and pulled it from the sheath. He held it up before his eyes, the pointed tip aimed at the ceiling. The total length of the sword ran forty inches from the tip of the blade to the bottom of the hilt, with thirty-two of those inches being the blade itself. The pommel was just long enough that Richard could grip it with both hands, but also short enough that he could use it one-handed if he chose. “It’s lighter than I thought.”

  “That’s because it’s made with such skill.” The blacksmith took a small block of wood and held it up with one hand. “You may test it if you’d like.” He tossed the wooden block up in the air.

  Richard gripped the hilt with both hands and swung the sword in an arch. He felt no drag, no resistance at all, but still the blade sliced through the block like it was nothing. It fell to the ground in two pieces.

  “The sword is perfectly balanced, and sharp enough to slice dragon scales.” The blacksmith bragged. Richard paused, he inwardly hesitated at the comment. While he knew Mr. Brown most likely meant it as just an expression, the idea still festered in his mind. Mr. Brown picked up the two halves of the wood block and placed them back together. The seem were they separated all but disappeared. “It is the highest quality I have ever made.”

  “That’s good. I’d expect nothing less.” Richard sheathed the sword. He produced a small bag of gold coins from inside his coat and handed it to the blacksmith. “I paid the first half in advance, so here is the second half.” He then took a few extra coins from his side purse and placed them in Mr. Brown’s rough, callused hands. “and a little something extra.”

  “Thank you, sir. You are too kind.”

  New sword in hand, Richard stepped back out into the cold. A fierce wind battered him as soon as he stepped outside. Be pulled his wolf-skin coat tighter around his body.

  He liked the weapon, it felt right in his hands, but it was actually for Sir Ardose. He walked towards Ardose’s manor, the snow crunching beneath his feet. While it was only October, the wind and the snow storms were growing fiercer. In less than two months, winter would set in.

  As he came upon the estate his lord lived in, he past the animal pen next to the barn and found five sheep huddled together in the middle of the pen. Richard paused. What were all these animals doing outside? There was no grass for them, an no shelter aside from their own wool. Ardose’s servants wouldn’t be so careless to leave his sheep unattended like that, so why were they here?

  His gaze shifted from the sheep pen to the clouds above. In the sky, he saw a dark ripple move against the white clouds. Small at first, but it grew steadily larger as it came closer. Without noticing, Richard had stopped and stood by the sheep pen staring up at the sky. His exposed hands grew numb in the wind, though he hardly noticed. He focused all his attention on the dark shape in the sky.

  As it grew larger, it began to take a more definitive shape. The dark wrinkle became wings. Instead of black, it was a pale green, closer to the color of jade rocks. Soon, it was undeniable what the shape was. A large reptile with huge wings and a mouth full of sharp teeth. Richard’s blood ran cold. His worst fear confirmed. The dragon had come.

  A cry of panic arose from the village. People screamed and
ran as the dragon came in full view. It flew over the village, its wings stretched out. The dragon touched down in Sir Ardose’s sheep pen, its wings kicked up a blast of snow which pelted Richard in the face. He winced and covered his face with his arm. His legs caught on themselves and he lost his balance, his arms flailed in the air as he fell back.

  The woolly animals in the pen bleated in fear. They scurried around in a blind panic, bunched together as they ran. The dragon roared a loud, deafening roar that split the air. It lunged at the sheep, moving with lightning speed, and snapped its jaws closed around a ewe.

  The ewe cried out in terror and pain. It’s legs kicked frantically as it was lifted from the ground. The dragon shook its head violently from side to side, the sheep’s bones cracked and snapped in its mouth. The screams of the ewe suddenly feel silent with a final snapping of the dragon’s jaws. It hung limply from the creature’s mouth.

  Richard crawled onto his knees. He stared up at the massive creature, unable to look away. Even on all fours, the dragon was as tall as a standing bear and longer than a horse and cart. Its wings reached

  from one side of the sheep pen to the other with ease.

  It snout was as long as one of Richard’s legs and it had a crown of six horns protruding from the back of its head and laying over its neck. Blood dripped from the dragon’s mouth.

  A monster from Hell. That was what he was seeing now, and there was no denying it. This was a beast from the Devil. Richard’s heart refused to beat, he was to frightened to move, too frightened to breathe. His hands clenched tightly around the scabbard of the sword.

  A shock ran through his body. The sword! The blacksmith said it was sharp enough to slice dragon scales, now was the perfect time to test it. Richard jumped to his feet with the sword in hand. He gripped the hilt and tore it from the sheath, the blade glittered in the sunlight