The Dragon and Rose

by Gerhard Gehrke

“I still see two monsters in the final chamber,” the queen said. “And I thought you fel had sharp eyes.”

  This got a laugh from her audience.

  He gestured towards the trolls. “The game’s done. There’s no reason for these stupid creatures to die.”

  “You think yourself capable of defeating two trolls? The arrangement was for you to walk away the reigning champion. My rules set out pureblood against fel and the winner faces the final encounter. But Red Eye’s theater pays the sole survivor from among your kind. So I’ll give you a choice. Either face this last unexpected encounter and fight them, or I award the purse to whomever among you is the last contestant standing. Which will it be?”

  Digger turned in time to see Steel Earring pointing the bolt thrower at him. A hand rested on the firing lever. What was only a few seconds felt like it stretched into a small eternity. But then Steel Earring lifted his fingers in a subtle wave. He wasn’t going to fire, at least not yet. The other contestant on the second bolt thrower remained transfixed by the trolls.

  He moved cautiously towards Tonto, a hand raised. “Tonto? Let’s go find Vinca. How’d you get in here?”

  He saw it. Just past them was a loose section of wall, which was presumably where they had entered the sawmill. All he had to do was take a piece of devil hound meat and lure the creatures out of the way so he could get past. If he could get them to follow, all the better.

  “No, no, no,” the queen said. “This is no good! I guess everyone will just need a little more motivation. Game master? Set the scene.”

  “The dark lord’s audience chamber fills with hellfire...”

  Winches began squeaking. The burning troughs began to tilt. In a moment their contents would spill out onto the floor. While the coals and embers would be easily avoidable, it would force him to the center of the room. But besides dramatic effect, what would that accomplish?

  A moment later, he saw the answer. Previously unseen firepits ignited in the neighboring chamber. The trolls flinched and started turning about in place, looking like wild animals ready to bolt. But while fire would drive a devil hound out of the chamber, the trolls would be sent into a fearful frenzy.

  The creatures yowled and charged. Digger dove aside. Steel Earring fired but the bolt only slammed into the ground between the massive creatures. The crowd above cheered, but their shouts turned to terror as the trolls clambered up on top of the machinery and up the rafters to where the queen and her nobles watched.

  And also right towards Isabel and Monty.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  WITH THE SPEAR IN ONE hand, Hellard tried the door that had just closed behind him and found it locked.

  “Figures.”

  The bounding devil hounds were finishing off the last of the theater spectators. In moments the three dogs would turn on him. While growing up in the eastern desert and during his time as a bandit he had only confronted the creatures twice, and both times it had taken a group to take down a single dog. They were best avoided.

  He kicked the door with his heel. It was solid.

  There was a commotion going on inside the sawmill that he didn’t have time to focus on.

  One of the hounds was creeping towards him. It had a gash on its face, presumably from a rapier wielded by a spectator. The wound hadn’t slowed the dog down.

  In the desert the dogs could be avoided by minding wind direction, staying clean, and rubbing down with sand and dust to mask one’s scent. Sometimes the animals could be distracted by leaving out fresh game, and then the trick was to move quickly away from the pack by listening to their howls.

  But once the beasts were up close, it meant fighting.

  He readied the spear to catch the hound when it pounced. But it continued to pace around him, just out of range. Sniffing at Hellard. Studying him like any hunter would examine prey in order to make an efficient kill. No doubt it didn’t want a second wound, but Hellard didn’t dare hope the spear would serve as a deterrent.

  A second animal joined it. They split up. Got low to the ground. Growled.

  Hellard growled back.

  Both hounds paused and tensed. The third remained busy tearing a limb from a corpse. Hellard propped the spear against the inside of a foot and tried to gauge which would spring first.

  An arrow struck the one on the right. The creature flinched and spun and a second missile nailed it between the eyes. It collapsed. The other hound growled and began to move from side to side. Hellard thrust his spear at it, causing it to bound away, only to stop and turn. Its companion abandoned its meal and joined it. They glared at Hellard with their glowing eyes. But they were distracted.

  “Ogre! This way!”

  Red Eye stood at the spiked fence near the corner of the lot, a bow and arrow in his hands. Somehow his little hat still clung to the top of his head.

  “What are you waiting for?” Hellard asked. “Shoot them!”

  “I was waiting to see if you were going to turn that spear on me.”

  “Tell me you have a way out of here.”

  “There’s over the fence. But the castle guard is shooting down anyone trying to climb away. I didn’t want this. I wanted a fair fight.”

  “Fair’s an interesting word when you’re on the wrong side of it. Watch out. Here they come.”

  Both hounds were approaching around opposite sides of an empty lumber rack. One paused to sniff its fallen packmate.

  “I take it you’ve fired a bow before,” Hellard said.

  “Hunted mule deer as a kid in the coast hills. Haven’t touched a bow in years.”

  “I’m glad you have a good memory.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s one little problem. I have one arrow left.”

  Three arrows. Three dogs. Sounded like the type of situation Lady Claudia would arrange for her catacombs. But the odds of three perfect kill shots were impossibly low.

  Hellard faced the nearest hound as it closed in. The beast bared its teeth. Gobs of spittle dripped from its jaw. When the creature got close he thrust his spear, but it bounded back as if luring Hellard away.

  Red Eye said, “Gotcha!” and fired.

  Hellard turned in time to see the second hound leap on top of the lumber rack only to jump right back off and straight into the gangster. The arrow had missed. The hound knocked Red Eye to the ground and tried to clamp its teeth on the man, but he thrust the bow sideways into its mouth.

  Turning the spear, Hellard brought it down into the creature’s back. But the one behind him wasn’t waiting. It landed on top of him and he felt claws dig into his shoulders. He let go of the spear and caught the creature by the ears. Its fangs snapped at his neck. He turned and jerked, fighting to pry the beast free as its claws continued to tear at him.

  He clamped a hand under its jaw. The hound wasn’t letting go. Pulling it free would mean losing more than just skin as its claws tightened.

  Red Eye continued to struggle with the hound on top of him, but the bow wasn’t going to hold it off forever.

  Hellard adjusted his grip on his own monster, keeping its fangs away from him. Then he delivered a savage punch to the hound on top of Red Eye. The dog toppled off. Red Eye scurried to retrieve Hellard’s spear. He drove the spear tip into Hellard’s hound.

  Pain exploded as the claws tore free. Hellard threw the creature off towards the remaining devil hound. The stabbed creature quivered and whimpered and didn’t appear able to get up.

  He made a quick check of his neck. There was a lot of blood. The bleeding hound continued to die. The last one snarled, its hackles up.

  Hellard reached out for the spear. Red Eye handed it over and got behind him.

  When the hound leapt, Hellard was ready. He caught the animal in the belly and let it impale itself as he locked the spear in place. A shudder ran down the spear shaft. The creature shrieked. Its claws tried to rake him. With the monster fixed, he slammed it into the ground and drove the spear down, staking the slashing beast into the dirt. Then he pulled th
e weapon free and finished off the other one.

  “You’re bleeding,” Red Eye said.

  “Enough to get me out of your game?”

  “Not mine anymore. Whatever’s happening inside that sawmill doesn’t sound fun.”

  “About time you realized that.”

  From inside the sawmill came cries of terror. Men and women were screaming. The red blossom of a growing fire radiated from the gaps of the sliding door. It wasn’t just Digger and the fel who were in trouble. Something was going wrong with the games.

  Hellard looked up at the nearest rooftop beyond the lumberyard and tried to spot the guards.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “You’ve got to stop this! It’s over!”

  But there was no answer. He didn’t see anyone.

  Red Eye ran to the fence. Although it had spikes on top, he looked ready to try climbing. There was nothing nearby to serve as a ladder or step. But he slid back down as he tried to shimmy the steel bars.

  Hellard got beneath him. “Let me give you a boost. But then you have to help me get out of here.”

  “Yeah. Anything. I think the guards are distracted by whatever is going on in there.”

  He shoved Red Eye up to where he managed to swing over the spikes and drop down to the other side into tall weeds. Hellard waited and listened even as he looked back at the sawmill.

  “Hey! Red Eye!”

  The gangster didn’t respond. Had he run off?

  “Don’t you dare leave me!”

  He heard a shuffling and then a soft thud followed by gasping.

  “Red Eye?”

  Something was being dragged and then propped up against the fence. A rickety wooden ladder was shoved up and over to where Hellard could grab it.

  He set it against the steel bars and tentatively climbed the first few rungs to test if the ladder would hold him. He kept searching the night for guards and dogs. Steeling himself up, he topped the fence and slid down the opposite side, hoping the fire was indeed distracting any of the queen’s archers.

  Red Eye lay in the weeds, his hands trembling over a gaping wound in his abdomen. His fingers pressed against blood and ropes of intestines. He was panting heavily, his mouth working like a fish fighting to breathe.

  A hooded figure was crouched nearby holding a short spear that glistened. “He wasn’t going to come back for you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “A friend to all our kind. I’ve heard of you, Sprat Hellard, and hoped we could meet. Because together we might change the fate of our people on this island. Call me Marcus.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  THE ARCHERS ON THE upper story of the sawmill platform began to fire. Arrows and crossbow bolts rained down. But the trolls were fast, quickly ascending to a blind spot beneath the soldiers.

  One of the two creatures—Digger was having a hard time with which was which in the red glow of the inferno—pulled himself up and out of sight. The shouting audience started screaming. The second troll reached up with a long arm and snatched an archer. He was shaking the man about as the hapless soldier repeatedly smacked the creature with his bow.

  The two fel followed Digger as he ran into the second chamber. It was smaller than the main room of the sawmill, and now with the blazing fire on all sides, there was little room to move. He saw no means of exit besides the lopsided wall panel. But it was blocked by a mountain of burning coals.

  But surely the queen intended the fight with the final hound, now torn asunder, to be the climax. Which meant there had to be a way out or some final puzzle.

  He began to pull portions of the singed devil hound away from the fire.

  “What are you doing?” Steel Earring asked.

  “Look for a token or a key.”

  Neither fel appeared willing to get closer to the hound’s remains. The cries of terror on the upper platform continued unabated. One of the trolls was making a mewling sound. Something was hammering on the upper floor. The heat around Digger threatened to blister his skin.

  Digger could find nothing among the fur, bone, and flesh. But he couldn’t give up.

  “How about a collar?” Steel Earring asked.

  “Where?”

  The fel pointed up.

  Digger hurried to look up at the troll still hanging from a crossbeam. The creature had dropped the archer. But there was a chunk of meat dangling from his mouth. In with the gristle and fur was a collar with something shiny attached.

  The troll swayed as it dangled until it too pulled itself up onto the next floor. Judging from the pounding footsteps, some of the observers had made it out onto the outer stairway.

  He ran to a support post and looked for a way to climb. There were no handholds. The growing flames were catching the wood of the floor.

  He climbed one of the machines and found the second bolt thrower still loaded. Setting his sword down, he tilted the weapon as high as it would go and fired. The bolt struck one of the columns. He jumped and grabbed the bolt. Even as the bolt tore free, he cinched one arm and both legs around the column. He shimmied up towards the platform, ignoring the slivers cutting into his skin.

  The second-floor handrail required him to swing out and take hold of it. As he grabbed it, a soldier backed up in front of him, stabbing at one of the trolls with his sword. The creature smashed into the man. The handrail shuddered.

  Digger could hold on no longer and pulled himself up. He came face-to-face with Mudo.

  The pale troll’s black eyes stared. The hunk of meat remained in his mouth like a forgotten nub of a cigar.

  But the creature didn’t seem interested in Digger. He wasn’t much interested in the soldier he had just squashed either, as he stood erect and pawed at a hatch above him. The troll let out a garbled cry and shoved the hatch open. Then he pulled himself up and out of sight, taking the hunk of devil hound with the attached collar with him.

  Digger climbed up to the platform, his arms trembling from the exertion. A door led outside from the second floor. A cluster of elegantly dressed spectators were pushing their way out of the sawmill. But Tonto had a second group cornered on the opposite side of the platform.

  Isabel and Jamie were holding the troll off. Jamie wielded a rapier, Isabel a metal torch holder with no torch. Behind them stood the queen and her steward along with a few of her guests.

  Tonto had several arrows in him. He shifted between Isabel and Jamie as each kept stabbing their weapons at him.

  Digger clapped his hands. “Tonto! Hey! Look at me!”

  The troll turned.

  “You want out of here? This way.”

  Tonto made no sign he understood. From Digger’s cellar encounter with both beasts, he knew they had a singular focus, and it was food. He could only hope the dumb animal could comprehend that his companion, Mudo, had found a way out of the burning mill.

  Digger jumped for the open hatchway and hauled himself up to the crooked roof. Tonto lumbered after him. The troll gripped the hatch and pulled himself up. Digger rose to hurry out of the way as Mudo lumbered across the roof towards him and hemmed him in. Tonto finished climbing and let out a growl as he tore arrows from his arm.

  He had trolls in front and behind, and a sloping roof to either side. Gaps between the broken shingles revealed the growing inferno below.

  Mudo swiped at Digger, forcing him back towards the second troll. The meat and the collar remained in his teeth.

  He waved at the troll. “Mudo! Drop it!”

  The troll lumbered closer. Taking a tentative step down the slope of the roof, Digger edged away, hoping the wood would hold him. If the creatures would stay still he might stand a chance to relieve Mudo of the collar. Mudo appeared to have lost interest in him. But before Digger could move closer, Tonto plucked a final arrow from his thigh and casually threw it away, smacking Digger in the process and sending him tumbling.

  Digger bounced once and then the roof beneath him collapsed. Arms flailing, his hand caught a lip of roof tile but it crumpled. He
dropped. He collided with the platform rail and almost went over, but Isabel latched on to him with both hands.

  Monty helped pull him to the platform and helped him stand.

  “Let go,” Digger said, “I’m fine.”

  He brushed long splinters from his arms and face. Looked up to see where the trolls where but neither was in sight. He needed the collar to get the other fel out.

  Lady Claudia was nearby and clapping, a broad smile creasing the layers of white makeup. Even with the flames beneath them and dead guards and guests around her, she looked nothing less than overjoyed.

  “What twists!” she said. “What unexpected delights! I could never have planned for such a final round. Hardly the climax I wanted but you delivered, my champion.”

  Digger closed in on her. “It’s over? We’re done?”

  “I’m afraid I have nothing else in store for you.”

  “Those two fel down there—get them out. And the ogre outside...we need to help him.”

  She turned as if looking for someone. “Fair is fair. But it appears my game master has run off.”

  Digger realized there was no one left with her but Jamie and her steward. Her guards and guests had either fled or lay dead. Here she was. The Queen of Diregloom, the Lady of Loom Island, the author of so much misery. While Jamie stood close to his aunt, he wouldn’t be able to stop Digger. He could throw her over the side of the platform, break her neck, take Jamie’s sword and—

  Isabel gripped an arm. Whispered, “Don’t. Just stop. It’s finished.”

  “We could end it all here.”

  “And then what? Have you paused to think through what comes next? You believe it’s bad now for us?”

  He didn’t answer. Watched as the queen hurried to the exit, calling for her steward to follow.

  “Game’s over,” she called.

  A group of guards met her at the door. She cried out as they took her by both arms and started pulling her along with them down the outer stairway.

  “Let go! What are you doing?”

  Digger hurried after them and descended the steps. He made it to the bottom in time to see Rochus supervising the placing of the protesting Lady Claudia into a waiting carriage. More guards stood around the horses, weapons drawn.