Dragon Slayer: A Pulp Fantasy Harem Adventure

by Michael-Scott Earle

  And what a fucking icy wind it was. The moment we left the shelter of the cliffs, the wind cut through my furs like a frosty knife. When I pulled the cloak tight around my shoulders, the cold found a way through my pants and into my boots. Finally, I’d had enough. This shit was worse than Chicago’s worst winter, and I wasn’t going to be able to kill a dragon if I was frozen.

  “I’m sorry, Nyvea, but I have to do this,” I told her as I tapped into the magic I’d siphoned from the fire goblin. Immediately, warmth spread through my body, and I sighed in relief. “That’s so much better.”

  “Use as little as you can,” she told me. “The last thing you want is to run out of this magic when facing an ice dragon.”

  A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined the dragon’s icy breath turning me into an Ethan-sized popsicle. “Good thinking.” It took a conscious effort to release all but the barest trickle of magic. I had just enough warmth not to spend the next hours shivering, but I wouldn’t use up all the power I’d siphoned from the fire goblin.

  For two hours we rode across a land of stark emptiness. I had to squint against the blinding glare of the sunlight shining on the ice, and I found myself wishing my Ray-Bans had come with me from Earth. I’d look like a total badass and I wouldn’t have to worry about snow blindness.

  That thought brought a smile to my face. I’d definitely look funny wearing a full suit of armor, a heavy full cloak, and a pair of aviators. The image, together with the warmth running through my body, helped to lift my spirits.

  The Gray Hunters led us in a beeline for the mountain, and we only made a detour to avoid a crevasse or a particularly wide crack in the ground. By the time the sun reached the highest point in the sky, the land had already begun to rise gently toward the mountain.

  The two Gray Hunters in the lead drew their horses to a halt, and the rest of us followed their example.

  “What’s the matter?” Sir Galfred asked as he pulled up beside them.

  “River,” one of the men said in a low voice. “Fifty feet wide, covered in ice, but I’m not certain the ice is strong enough to hold us all at once.”

  “Show me,” the knight said.

  My curiosity got the better of me, and I followed Sir Galfred and the Gray Hunters on foot as they strode toward a lighter patch of ice. My eyes went wide as I saw the river under the ice. It flowed fast, and there were white foam caps as it crashed against the rocks beneath the surface. If I could see the water moving, the ice definitely wasn’t thick enough to hold all our weight.

  “We cross in pairs,” Sir Galfred told the Gray Hunters. “You two cross first, and we’ll follow.”

  “Aye, sir,” one of the men said with a nod.

  The two of them mounted up and rode out onto the ice. I held my breath as they made the crossing, and my heart nearly stopped as a loud crack echoed like a gunshot in the silence. But the two men reached the far side without incident, then they turned and gave us the thumbs-up signal.

  “Let’s go, Ethan,” the knight told me. He dismounted and grabbed his horse’s reins. “We’ll be better making the crossing on foot.”

  “Got it.” I dropped from my saddle and strode out onto the ice beside him.

  “When the time comes to face the dragon,” Sir Galfred told me, “I’ll want you at my side.”

  His words caught me by surprise, and I gave him a curious glance.

  “I saw the way you wielded that axe in the battle with the rock trolls,” the knight said. “You fought without hesitation, without fear.” He shot me a grin. “And, don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think you’re stronger than I am.”

  “I won’t argue that,” I said with a laugh. “But I’m just trying to do my best.”

  “You will be a good one to have at my back when we fight Frosdar. With your help, I believe we have a real chance of success.”

  “We will win here,” I told him. “No matter what, the dragon dies.”

  “Even if you have to steal the axe from his hands and use it,” Nyvea insisted in my mind. “You’re the hero, and you’re the one who needs to kill the dragon.”

  “First, I have to find out how to do that, right?” I thought back at her.

  “Tell me, Sir Galfred, how do you kill a dragon?” I asked. “Even with the fire axe, you’re still trying to kill a pretty large creature, right?”

  “Indeed,” the knight said and nodded. “The secret is simple: you just hit them until they stop moving!” he laughed, and the ice creaked a bit beneath our feet. “Think of it like taking out those rock trolls. There’s something controlling the creature, the source of their magic and life. For humans, it is the heart and the brain that keeps us alive. Sever the connection between the two, and the body dies. Deprive the body of blood, and it dies.”

  “So that’s it? Just chop off the dragon’s head or cut it until it bleeds to death?”

  “Pretty much,” the knight said with a shrug. “Killing is always straightforward and simple. It’s getting the dragon in a position where you can kill them that’s the tough part.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the Gray Hunters. “That’s where these men come in handy. They’re more than mercenaries, they’re dragon hunters.”

  “Really?” I asked, and my eyebrows rose. “How many dragons have they killed?”

  “Three, or so they say.” The knight gave me a wry grin. “They’ve got a big dragon’s skull in their underground headquarters, which they say used to be the lair of an old black wyrm. And, they certainly seem to know their business. You know those heavy packs they’re lugging around?”

  “Sure,” I said. Each of the Gray Hunters rode with their own packs of personal belongings, but six of them also carried large bundles tied on the backs of their saddles. I’d wondered about them since the first day out of Whitespire but hadn’t remembered to ask Adath.

  “Those are nets specially designed to bring down a dragon,” Sir Galfred said. “Made with a special metal cable, thinner than rope but twice as strong. There are even little barbed hooks on the net meant to catch on the dragon’s scales and tangle in its wings. We just need to get close enough for them to use those nets, and we can keep Frosdar from flying off. So long as he’s on the ground, I can get close enough to use this.” He patted the handle of the axe strapped to his back.

  “So, just that easy, eh?” I asked with a grin.

  “Pretty much.” Sir Galfred laughed and clapped me on the back. “If you can come up with an easier way, you’ll be the hero of Whitespire. Hell, of all the free human cities.”

  “They’d better get ready to break out the party for a hero,” Nyvea told me. “Because you’re coming home with a dragon’s head.”

  I was about to reply, but a loud cracking sound like a gunshot echoed around me. I froze, and my hand flashed out to grab Sir Galfred’s arm and hold him still. That was the sort of sound everyone in Chicago knew to fear.

  The frozen ground beneath me shuddered, and my heart leapt to my throat as spidery cracks began to appear in the ice beneath my feet. I resisted the urge to run as I knew the impact of my pounding boots and the horses’ hooves would damage the ice further. My pulse pounded in my ears as I held my breath and remained perfectly still.

  The cracking slowly stopped, but I didn’t dare breathe until the last sound had died away, then Sir Galfred and I exchanged a relieved glance.

  “Too bloody close,” the knight said.

  “Damn straight!” I let out a long breath.

  We took the rest of the crossing at a slower pace and were careful to avoid the cracks that had begun to spread through the ice. My heart didn’t stop pounding until we reached the far side of the river and stepped onto solid ground.

  After we made it across, Sir Galfred and I mounted up and waited as the rest of the Gray Hunters crossed the river. It proved slow going because the rest of our party had to go a few hundred yards upstream to avoid the cracked section of ice. It was nearly a full half hour later when we resumed our ride toward the
mountain.

  I hadn’t noticed while talking to Sir Galfred, but as we rode, I felt the familiar tingle in the back of my mind grow stronger. I tensed as I expected an attack, then I realized what it was.

  I was feeling Frosdar.

  Even from a mile away it called to me, like a magnet pulling on iron, and I felt the desire to pull its magic into me.

  The feeling grew stronger as we began to ascend the mountain. The slope was gentle at first but soon rose to a sharp incline that the horses struggled to get up. At Sir Galfred’s order, we dismounted and continued on foot. We made slower progress, but at least the horses did not have to struggle with our weight while we climbed.

  The others were soon breathing hard since they were weighed down by their heavy armor and weapons. Oddly enough, I climbed without feeling fatigue. There was a slight ache in my calves from the effort, but not the intense fire I knew should be burning in my legs. The world of Agreon had made me stronger, but not this strong.

  Then I realized what it was. The magic I’d taken from the fire goblin was keeping me warm, but it also filled me with energy.

  “This is amazing!” I told Nyvea. “I feel like I can run up the mountain without getting tired.”

  “So, do it,” she responded. “Get the fire axe and forget about the others. You’re the real hero here, so you don’t need them to kill the dragon.”

  “Those nets would make it a lot easier,” I thought to her.

  “But you don’t need them,” she purred. “You have the Mark of the Guardian to give you everything you need. All you have to do is find the source of the dragon’s power and make it yours. You won’t need nets then.”

  “What do you mean by the source of the dragon’s power?” I asked.

  “Somewhere in that mountain is an altar which serves both as its access and its tether to the magic,” Nyvea told me. “You need to find that altar and destroy it.”

  Finding the stone altar that was the source of the dragon’s power was probably a bit easier said than done, given the size of the mountain. I’d have to get close to it to siphon the magic, but I doubted Frosdar would let me walk up to it and steal its power.

  “The plan was to take the fire axe and hack at the dragon until it’s too weak to fight back,” I thought to her. “Now, I have to find a stone altar in the middle of a mountain, then destroy it so I can siphon the dragon’s magic. Like a walk in the fucking park.” I thought to her.

  “You’re a big, strong hero,” Nyvea purred. “Anyone can do easy. Barodan picked you because you can do the impossible.”

  I snorted and shook my head. I was about to respond, but Sir Galfred’s words cut me off.

  “The entrance to Frosdar’s lair,” the knight said.

  I followed his pointing finger up the mountain side. There, twenty yards above us, a hole had been carved into the side of the mountain. As we reached it, I realized it was a tunnel. The tunnel was eight feet high and six feet wide, and the path inside sloped gently downward for ten yards before turning sharply to the right.

  “Ready the nets,” Sir Galfred told the Gray Hunters.

  Adath snapped quiet orders to the gray-cloaked men, and they set about removing the massive bundles from their horses’ backs. The men removed the canvas covers to reveal nets made of braided metal, sort of like the cables we used for the electric winch on our fire truck. They donned thick leather gloves as they moved the nets, and I gave them a wide berth to avoid being caught by one of the wicked-looking giant barbs.

  All of us drew weapons, adjusted our gear, and pulled our cloaks tighter one last time. Sir Galfred gave a nod, and we strode into the tunnel.

  I’d expected it to be pitch black once we left the daylight behind, but it seemed the surrounding ice glowed with an inner light that painted everything an eerie shade of light blue. It was bright enough that I could see the tension lining Sir Galfred’s face and the nervous expressions on the Gray Hunters behind me.

  The feeling in the back of my mind grew stronger with every step I took deeper into the mountain. I could sense an immense source of power very close by, and I knew we were approaching the lair where we would find Frosdar the Hoary. I shot a glance at the fire axe gripped in Sir Galfred’s hand.

  “Now’s your chance,” Nyvea hissed at me. “Take it from him.”

  I ignored her words and then continued into the tunnel. Sir Galfred had been pretty damn nice to me, and he’d asked me to have his back. There was no way in hell I was going to steal the axe from him so I could have the glory. I’d do my best to help my team kill the dragon, and hope that we all survived the ordeal.

  The tunnel ran for another fifty yards before opening into a twenty-foot tall cave with a rounded roof and smooth walls. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, and sharp stalagmites three and four feet tall littered the icy floor around us. With Sir Galfred and I in the lead, we picked our way carefully through the forest of spikes toward the mouth of the tunnel at the far end of the cavern.

  A low rumbling sound echoed through the cavern, and we all paused mid-step. My stomach clenched at the sound and I gripped my axe tighter. But after a moment, I realized it wasn’t a growl, but the soft grumble of a snore.

  “The dragon sleeps,” Sir Galfred whispered with relief. The pale blue light made his teeth shine as he grinned. “The Goddesses smile on us. Mind your feet and keep an eye out for guard—”

  The surrounding walls exploded outward and sprayed us with a shower of snow and ice shards. Five massive creatures dropped to the ground in front of our small company, and we all took a quick step back so that we had more space to fight. The creatures were like enormous ice centipedes crossed with snowmen. They were fifteen feet tall, with lumpy bodies and long, stick-thin arms. The monsters even had the glittering coal-black eyeballs and pointed noses.

  The comparison ended when one of the massive beasts opened its mouth to reveal three rows of eight-inch fangs. Before we could move, one of them snatched up a Gray Hunter and brought it to its huge mouth. Blood exploded over its white body as it bit the guy’s head off with a single snap of its powerful jaws, and I felt momentarily rooted in place when I realized that the man had just been killed by a giant evil bug-snowman.

  “Snow Killers!” Sir Galfred shouted as he raised his axe to block a swipe aimed at his face and chopped at the creature’s spindly limb. His blow went wide, and he staggered with the force. Before the knight could recover, one of the massive snow killers thrust out a hand, and its razor-sharp claws flew at the knight’s back.

  My instincts kicked in and snapped me out of my trance. I brought my axe swinging around like I was chopping high on a tree, and an ear-splitting shriek filled the cavern as the blade sliced through the creature’s long talons. It stumbled backward, and a pale blue liquid leaked from the severed stump of its wrist.

  “Take them down!” Sir Galfred cried. “Quickly, before Frosdar wakes.” He raised his axe and charged the creature whose arm I had lopped off. I expected to see the flame spring to life at any moment, but the axe head remained untouched by flames.

  “Why doesn’t he use the axe’s magic to take down the monsters?” I asked Nyvea as I raced toward another of the Snow Killers.

  “Dragons wake more slowly than humans. But the moment Frosdar senses the fire magic, it will sense the true peril and either fly away or use its magical abilities to kill you. Sir Galfred knows he has to wait until the last moment to use the power of the axe.”

  The rumbling sound stopped, and I guessed Frosdar was waking up. We had to finish this fight quickly if we were to take down the dragon before it got really pissed off.

  I hacked at the flailing limb of the Snow Killer and was rewarded with another loud shriek as my axe head chopped off another of its long spindly talons. I ducked a swipe of its other hand and leapt to the side to avoid its snapping jaws. As I dodged, I flipped the axe in my hand and swung the pick right at its head. The painted red metal sprayed shards of ice and snow as it crunched through its sk
ull. The creature gave a loud shriek, and pale blue fluid sprayed across my face. It felt like being hit with drops of nitrogen that froze instantly, and I quickly wiped it away before it freeze-burned my skin.

  “Steal its magic!” Nyvea cried.

  I could sense a lot of power within the creature, and I prepared to siphon it into myself. But a loud cry of pain behind me diverted my attention, and I spun to see Sir Galfred sag to one knee. Pain twisted his face into a grimace as one of the Snow Killers pulled its long talons out of his armored side, and drops of his blood spattered the white snow.

  The creature drew back its arm to strike again, but I didn’t give it a chance. I pulled out one of my hatchets with a practiced move and threw it at the Snow Killer. The blade spun through the air, hit the monster at the shoulder, and cut off its long limb.

  The monster whirled toward me and bared its teeth in a snarl. Its coal-black eyes glittered as it charged and swiped its remaining arm at my face. I ducked the blow and caught the next attack with my axe, but the force of the monster’s arm hit me with enough strength to knock me back a step. As I fell back, I reached out, gripped its arm, and pulled hard. The creature staggered forward off-balance and fell to one knee. My movement had surprised the monster, and I was able to raise my weapon up over my head before it could get to its feet. With a mighty one-handed blow, I buried the pick side of my axe in the top of its head. The Snow Killer instantly went limp, and I ripped my pick out of its head.

  “Help…the others!” came Sir Galfred’s cry.

  I turned to find the Gray Hunters locked in battle with the remaining three Snow Killers. Two of the gray-cloaked men lay sprawled on the ground, and their blood stained the ice a gruesome crimson. Four more lay unconscious or dazed, and three men staggered backward as one of the monsters battered at their shields. Adath and the remaining Gray Hunters had cornered the second Snow Killer against the wall, and they were using their swords and axes to bring it down. Two men attacked the last Snow Killer with long spears while a third raced around behind it to chop at its legs. It shrieked and fell, but its flailing limbs caught one of the Gray Hunters in the leg. The man cried as bone shattered, and he hit the ground hard.