by Thad Ward
The dragon opened its mouth. Fire began pouring out. Then a translucent shield appeared in front of the dragon, striking it in the face before vanishing. It wasn’t enough to make Morkenstradivix stop, but the dragon did falter off course a tiny bit. Then another shield appeared, and another.
Ike watched his mana reserves deplete to nothing. “Come on!” he yelled above the rushing wind and sounds of combat. “Turn you damned lizard!”
Flames rained down in a deadly line across the battlefront, but Ike’s interference was just enough to make the dragon’s breath fall on the goblin’s side instead. He heard high-pitched voices shrieking in anguish and terror just as cheers erupted from human voices on the other side.
Morkenstradivix shuddered beneath Ike and the two suddenly dropped several meters. Ike realized with a pang of fear that the dragon was finally succumbing to its injuries. It had been bleeding from multiple deep wounds and suffering cumulative damage from Ike’s sword; the shields must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Ike saw the ground outside the wall rapidly rising to meet him and released his grip on his sword in a vain attempt to abandon ship at the last second. He dove for the softest-looking patch of grass he could spot. Everything went black except for a pair of notifications hovering at the edge of his vision.
Death Defiance activated.
You have achieved a World First: Dragonslayer
Chapter 29
Collecting quest rewards
T he world beyond Ike’s eyelids was bright, making him groan and wince. He opened his eyes slowly to see daylight pouring in through the window. It took him several long moments blinking away the bleariness to remember what had happened the night before and realize he was laying in his bed in the Weir Crest.
Ike sat up and examined his body. He was shirtless, thoroughly bandaged, and could smell the lingering aroma of the different medicines that had been applied. He wasn’t hurt anymore; albeit slow, the game’s health regeneration wasn’t as slow as real life. He did feel sore and stiff, though.
“Wait, I should be dead,” Ike said. “I only had one health when we crashed. That notification…”
“I guess that explains how the dragon smelled the cu-sith on me,” Ike said. “Handy trump card. I should read these things sooner, though. On that note, what does Dragonslayer do?”
“Nice, but I don’t plan to make a habit of meeting dragons.” Ike swung his legs out of bed. His gear was lying in a neat pile on the floor nearby. He put on his shirt, casting Minor Repair to mend the holes in it. He lifted his armor and frowned as bits of broken chainmail clattered onto the floor. “Well, this is a lost cause,” he said. “Even if I repair it, I’m sure there will be durability drain.”
Ike put the armor back down, slipped on his boots, and left the room. It occurred to him that he’d lost quite a bit of good gear in the fight with the dragon. Even if he could salvage the mana from the remains, his cloak and partisan were probably too broken to keep using. That might have bothered him on any other day. Somehow, though, he didn’t mind the sacrifice.
Voices drifted up as Ike descended the stairs to the common room. “Eleven,” Sky said proudly. “Twelve if you include that one Boudica stole near the end.”
“Stole!?” Boudica yelled. “That one had you on the ropes and I saved your ass!”
“I only got four,” Clay said with a hint of disappointment. “Maybe I’m not cut out for fighting.”
Ike got to the bottom of the stairs and saw the three of them at a table together. “That’s because you were too busy holding the gate,” he said with a smile. He walked over to the group. “The rest of them only had the chance to put up a good fight because you kept them from being overwhelmed. Think of it this way: You tanked an army for the whole town.”
“If it isn’t the hero of the hour!” Clay said, rising and pulling Ike into a crushing bear hug.
“More like the hero of hours ago,” Boudica said. Clad in revealing leathers and covered in spiral tattoos, the redhead looked every inch as fierce as she sounded. Just the same, there was a warmth to her tone. “We were wondering when you’d finally get up.”
“Sorry,” Ike said, rubbing his face. He still wasn’t awake yet. “I didn’t exactly stick the landing.”
“I’ll say!” Sky said. He was a tall, bald man with a muscular build that seemed appropriate given all the plate armor he was wearing. “Why’d you have to go and crash the dragon? The rest of us might’ve wanted a ride, too, you know?” he teased.
“Don’t blame me!” Ike teased back. “I was just starting to have some fun when the damn thing fell out of the sky! I guess they don’t make them like they used to.” He laughed and the others laughed along with him. “So, what happened with the goblins after the landing I couldn’t walk away from?”
“Turned tail and scattered,” Boudica said. “At least, the ones the dragon didn’t roast alive. We figure they followed the dragon out of fear and probably ran from it for the same reason.”
Clay gestured vaguely. “Once the attack was dealt with, we were able to get the fires under control. There’s a lot of damage, but it could’ve been a lot worse.”
“Ike!” came Fu’s voice from behind the bar. The imugi emerged from the back room carrying a box. “Why did nobody tell me you were awake? Sit! Eat!” He gestured to the bar.
Ike patted Clay on the shoulder in passing, leaving the three warriors to their stories. He crossed the room and pulled up a seat at the bar. “Still helping out Maisy and Angus?” he asked.
Fu quickly filled a plate with sausage, eggs, and pancakes. “In a way. I’m helping them pack,” he said with a grin.
Ike frowned. “Why? Are they going somewhere?”
Fu added silverware and put the plate in front of Ike. “As it turns out, Maisy inherited the Weir Crest from her parents but never really felt cut out to run it.”
Ike tilted his head to the side in uncomfortable agreement. “I can’t imagine how she got that idea,” he said. He inhaled the sweet aroma of the breakfast. “Itadakimasu,” he said as he bit into a forkful of syrup-soaked pancake. His eyes promptly rolled back into his head.
“Well,” Fu said, “the goblin attack was the last straw. She was too stressed and wanted out of the business. As luck would have it, a motivated buyer was standing very close at hand when she made that decision.”
“Hold on. You didn’t,” Ike said, quickly swallowing the bite he’d been chewing. He smiled as he scanned Fu’s character sheet. “Level two! Congrats, Fu!”
Fu gave a deep bow. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“So you’re getting into the tavern business, huh?” Ike said. He took a bite of sausage, appreciating the warm, greasy flavor. “It definitely suits you. Get anything interesting when you leveled up?”
Fu nodded. “A racial skill called Luck. I couldn’t tell you how it works, though. It just says that my party and I will be more fortunate. I’m not complaining, but I wish it wasn’t so vague.”
Ike gave Fu a serious look. “When, exactly, did you level up last night?”
Fu stroked one of his whiskers and looked up. “I think it was right before Dusty left for the gate and put me in charge of Tavern Team. Why?”
Ike’s jaw dropped. “Fu, I think you saved my life.” He considered the thought he was having a second time. “Twice!”
Fu tilted his head up. “I don’t follow.”
Ike continued eating breakfast while regaling Fu on the details of Sunny’s timely appearance in the alley, the long-shot strategy against the dragon, and the several near misses. “Don’t you see? If the wolf hadn’t shown up, I would probably have died trying to save Myra. Or maybe I wouldn’t have been in the alley in the first place and not been able to equip myself to fight the dragon. Or the dragon would have killed me half a dozen times. I got lucky because you were in my party.”
“Thank you, but I think you’re selling yourself short,” Fu said. “Besides, you skipped something.
How did you equip yourself to fight the dragon?”
“Remember that shop you showed me while I was learning Appraisal?” Ike said. “Twig’s Collection? The one where you could sell wishbones? Twig was inside watching me fight the goblins. I asked her if I could borrow the mana from the magic items she had on sale to save the town.”
“Brilliant!” Fu said. “I’m surprised she agreed. She was always a bit stingy.”
Ike gestured vaguely. “I think it helped that she saw me trying to save a little girl. And that a dragon was attacking the city and none of her goods would be worth a copper tenth if they all went up in smoke. Even so, I agreed to recover the mana and re-enchant the items I harvested. It’s on my to-do list for today.” He dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “On an unrelated note, do you know if Ada’s online?”
“She is,” Clay said, calling from his table across the room. “She left just before you woke up. She’s turning in her quest with the magistrate.”
“Got it. Thanks,” Ike called back. “What about you? Did you get a chance to turn yours in?”
“You know it!” Clay said, holding his arms and flexing his muscles. “Level three baby!”
Ike pushed his empty plate across the bar and stood up. “Well, I can’t just sit around, then. I need to go catch up to you guys. What do I owe you, Fu?”
“That’ll be the usual copper rube,” Fu said seriously, then cracked a smile, “but I’m running a special today. Dragonslayers get a one hundred percent discount.”
Ike smiled. “Thanks, Fu. I’ll be back for lunch,” he said, walking out the front door with a wave to everyone.
The city outside had seen better days. The sun was bright and the temperature was unseasonably warm, but the smell of old smoke was still heavy in the air. Ike saw a man pulling a cart filled with burnt timbers, a small family praying together, a group hammering away at a partially collapsed house, and a woman scrubbing bloody clothes in a washbasin. Moods were subdued, voices were hushed, and commerce had been replaced by cleaning and repairing.
“I told you…!” Ike heard an unmistakable voice from the direction of the western gate, though he couldn’t quite make out what was being said. He had intended to surprise Ada at the magistrate’s office, but he headed toward the commotion instead.
In the arch of the west gate, Ike found Adger Cots engaged in what seemed to be a heated debate with Giovanni Moda, the tailor who’d bought Ike’s gems. Giovanni looked dapper and sophisticated as usual, but Adger had seen better days. The guardsman’s arm was in a sling, his head was bandaged, and there were less serious cuts and scrapes visible on his face. Ike couldn’t be sure, but Adger seemed to be leaning on his spear more than usual.
“Master Cotts,” Giovanni said in a pleading tone, “I must beg your indulgence. The leather degrades with every passing minute. If we do not skin it now, I’m afraid the opportunity will be lost.”
“For the last time,” Adger said, beyond irked, “that dragon is not mine to dispose of. You’ll have to…” Adger paused as he caught sight of Ike walking up, “About time, Fennell. Sell this man your dragon before I do something drastic to shut him up.” Despite his tone, there was a smile on Adger’s lips.
“My dragon?” Ike said.
Giovanni spun on the heel of his stylish shoe and offered Ike a bow better suited for addressing a prince. “Brave master Fennell. First of all, allow me to extend my most sincere gratitude for our deliverance. I have heard tell of your heroics last night and I am deeply moved. If there is anything I can offer in thanks, I am at your service.”
“You’re, uh, welcome,” Ike said, scratching the back of his head. “That doesn’t answer my question, though. My dragon?”
“Right of conquest,” Adger said. “Spoils of war. You killed it. You keep it. I won’t let anyone else lay a hand on it without your say-so.” He used his injured arm to gesture vaguely to the side of the road outside the gate. Morkenstradivix lay in the back of a wagon, the dragon’s body contorted like a ragdoll and its head lolling to the side. Ike’s short sword was still stuck deep in its chest.
Ike grimaced at the sight of it. Even though it was daylight and the dragon was dead, it still set his nerves on edge. He walked over and grasped the handle of his sword as he continued talking to the other two men. “Seems fair. Thanks, Adger. Mr. Moda, I’ll be honest: I have no idea what a fair price on a dragon corpse might be. What did you have in mind?”
“Dragons are rare creatures,” Giovanni explained. “A chance like this only comes once every few decades. Wealthy merchants, nobles, and even royalty will be clamoring for goods made from the hide and bones. I myself have never had the opportunity to craft with such fine material. For this honor, I will pay you three gold kings this very moment.” He opened a leather change purse and held the coins up for Ike to see.
Ike’s eyes widened. The largest coins he’d ever dealt in were platinum tenths, and he remembered a gold king being worth twenty times that much. He was being offered the game equivalent of thousands of dollars. He turned away and began tugging at his sword to cover up his surprise. “A generous offer. Aren’t you giving up your negotiating position, though?”
“No more than you when you said you were unsure of the value,” Giovanni countered. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Besides, you offered me a fair deal on your gems when we first met. I didn’t need to hear that you’d saved the town to know you were a man of good character, Master Fennell. I would never seek to swindle you out of your prize, no matter how great it is.”
Ike finally pulled the sword free, wiping the ichor on the grass and putting it in its sheath. “I appreciate that,” he said, walking back to Giovanni. “How about this, then? Let’s make it one gold king for me, one to help rebuild Weir, and one for some new gear. My armor didn’t make it out of the fight and I could use a replacement.”
Giovanni smiled. He handed a gold coin to Adger, put one back into his coin purse, and clasped hands with Ike, passing the coin into Ike’s palm. “For you, Isaac Fennell, I will offer my finest work. Dragonhide armor truly befitting of your valor. Come by my shop later so I can take your measurements.”
Ike gave a firm shake back and slipped the valuable coin into his pouch. “Good deal. A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Moda.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Giovanni said, rolling up his sleeves, “I have some work to do.” He gave a slight bow to both men and walked over to the dragon’s corpse.
Adger looked down at the gold coin. “The people of Weir thank you,” he said, awkwardly juggling his spear in the crook of his arm while depositing the coin into a pouch. “Now that he’s not bothering us, I can thank you properly. I gave you hero’s work and you delivered! I intend to give you the hero’s reward I promised!”
Congratulations! You have completed the quest: Slay the Leader of the Goblins.
You have reached level 3.
Your maximum health has increased to 10.
Your maximum mana has increased to 17.
Your Enchantment skill has increased to level 3.
Your Identification skill has increased to level 3.
You have learned the class skill: Confluence
Minor Reshape has evolved into: Lesser Reshape.
“Pay attention, boy!” Adger said, rapping Ike’s forehead with the shaft of his spear. “I’m trying to reward you! It’s rude to ignore your elders!”
Ike laughed and rubbed his head. He’d been too lost in thought reviewing the notifications and changes to his character sheet to hear what Adger was saying. “Sorry,” he said. Just the same, he was excited by all the new skill levels and itching to find out what his new abilities could do.
“Now, as I was saying,” Adger said, clearing his throat, “that was fine work last night. Taking down a dragon is one thing, but you did more than that. I have no doubt that you rallying the help you did was what saved the city. It took bravery, daring, wit, and I daresay a fair amount of luck to boot. You’ve more than ea
rned this.” Adger held his spear in the crook of his arm again as he pulled out a golden badge and offered it to Ike.
Ike accepted the badge and admired it. It was small and shaped similarly to the clasp on Adger’s cloak, but was decorated with an unfamiliar rune. A matching gold chain hung from an eyelet at the top. “Thank you. It looks a lot like yours. Does it signify something?”
“It does,” Adger said, and there was a reverence to his tone. “Only ten such medals are known to exist, and only six are accounted for. They’ve been passed down since ancient times, from one hero to the next. The clasps worn by guards,” Adger nodded toward the one on his chest, “are made in their likeness as a way of inspiring us to live up to the examples of those who’ve worn the originals.”
Ike nodded, still unsure of the significance of the reward. Part of him wished the medal was enchanted. “Wait, if you’re giving it to me, doesn’t that mean a hero gave it to you?” He looked up from the medal and met Adger’s gaze. “Doesn’t that make you a hero, too?”
Adger nodded and offered Ike a genuine smile free of his usual sternness. “I was, but age has gotten the better of me. I never wear the thing anymore, anyway. Draws too much attention. I end up spending more time telling tales of my exploits than doing my job.” Adger gave the medal a wistful look. “Wear this and everyone who lays eyes on it will recognize it. Nobles will open their doors and grant you audience. Guards will let you pass without a toll or peace bond. Peace-loving citizens of all sorts will offer you succor and take your word at the highest value.”
Ike raised his eyebrows. “Adger, I can’t accept something like this. It’s too much.” He tried to hand it back to the old man.
“Rubbish!” Adger said, returning to his usual scowl. “You did hero’s work. You deserve it. There are only two rules. First, never wear it lightly. Put it on for today; I’m sure everyone will know why. After that, don’t take it out unless you need it. Trust me, it’s not healthy getting that sort of attention all the time. Second,” Adger’s voice softened, “know when it’s time to pass it on. One day you’ll see someone else worthy of it. Pass it on to them as I’ve passed it on to you.”
