Dragonslayer

by Matthew Lang

  “Can you ride?” his timely rescuer asked.

  “What?”

  “Can you— Just get on,” the man said. His left hand dropped the reins and reached out to Adam, just as another of the four-armed giants crashed through a curtain of creepers and into the small space at the base of a great gray-barked tree. Given the choice between the scary lizard-riding man who saved him and another of the giants that nearly ended him, Adam chose the man. Grabbing the proffered hand, he vaulted off one of the lizard’s legs and up onto its back, his gym bag banging against his back as he landed.

  “Hold on,” his rescuer said, roughly pressing Adam’s left hand to the wide belt around his hips. Adam grasped the thick leather and held on for dear life as the lizard bolted forward, wending sinuously through the undergrowth, nearly taking off Adam’s feet before he hoisted them out of the way. Spears whistled around him, and suddenly he was going up as the lizard ran straight up one of the trees that grew in this area of cloud forest. Then they were running through the canopy, and Adam wasn’t sure what was harder—hanging on or not throwing up.

  The ride seemed to take forever, and when the lizard finally slowed, they came to an opening in the jungle, a temporary patch of sky caused by the toppling of a forest giant. Fungi and mosses had already colonized the iron-gray trunk, working slowly to turn the great tree back into the rich loam of the jungle floor. In the space cleared by its fall, small saplings were jostling toward the light in a mad bid to reestablish the jungle canopy, and the red light of the sky shone down to kiss the ground. With a slight shifting of his knees, the rider nudged the lizard into the leaf-littered hollow at the base of the tree, where the roots had pulled out of the ground. Three other lizards were already there, unharnessed and tearing strips out of the carcass of a spider the size of the greatest Great Dane. Two other people, a man in riding leathers and a woman in a regal cross-tied dress, looked up from their conversation at the sound of their approach.

  “HAIL THE all-conquering Captain Darius,” the second man said. “I see you’ve picked up another stray.”

  “Another?” Adam’s rescuer asked, his tone neutral as he helped Adam dismount.

  The man pulled a soft green robe off one of the exposed roots and slipped it on. “We found this one hiding in our shelter,” he said, jumping down from his perch on a mound of moss-covered something and giving a furry bundle a kick.

  Only when the bundle gasped did Adam realize it was a creature—a person—bound on the ground, albeit a person covered in short brown fur. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a very skinny, bony version of a Hollywood werewolf, just a lot less scary for being bound in rope, struggling feebly, its fur matted and unkempt.

  “I’m surprised it’s managed to survive out here for so long,” Darius said, striding toward the shivering form. “It must have been but a child when it was exiled from the caverns.”

  “Exiled?” Adam asked, the word escaping his mouth before he could clamp down on it.

  The robed man’s smile was not particularly friendly. “You are not from around here, are you?”

  “What gave me away, my accent?” Adam asked before mentally kicking himself. Sometimes he really had a big mouth—and not in the good way. Maybe it was speciesist, but right now he was thinking that sticking with humans would be good for survival. Assuming this wasn’t a very elaborate TV setup. Which he’d never consent to having broadcast.

  “I think, Your Highness, we should restrain that man. He could be dangerous.”

  “We are all dangerous, Magister,” the woman said pointedly. “And I’ll not turn away potential allies so hastily. I am Esmeralda of Aergon,” she said, pushing a strand of dark curly hair back from the almost translucent white skin of her face. “By what name are you called, wanderer?”

  “Adam,” he said, and suddenly a lifetime of geekery came to his rescue. “Forgive my ignorance, but I take it you are a princess, Your Highness?”

  Esmeralda laughed, although her tone held little joy. “Yes, I am, but I am cut off from my father’s caverns. Titles mean little on the surface. And in answer to your question, the bound creature is a cursed Child of Selune, she who fled the sky. All are tested, and the accursed are abandoned to the light of the uncaring sun.”

  “Then if you’re from underground, what are you doing in the light of the uncaring sun, Esmeralda?”

  “Your Highness, you cannot possibly allow—” the robed man started.

  “Hush, Xavier,” Esmeralda said. “We have spoken,” she added, affecting a frosty royal tone worthy of the Queen of England. “We came to the surface seeking a mystical weapon to end my people’s exile,” she added.

  “But we were not expecting the kanak,” Darius rumbled. “Where is everyone else?”

  “Not coming,” Xavier said, his voice tight.

  “All the more reason to keep this one… Adam,” Darius said. “Flat-footed and no mount and he still survived some twenty counts with a kanak.”

  “Twenty counts is good?” Adam asked.

  “On foot? Yes.”

  “We should be going back,” Xavier interrupted. “It is too dangerous out here.”

  “Did you not hear the drop stones falling?” Esmeralda asked. “There is no way in, for all that the caves lie but a thousand paces away. It will take months just to lever them all out of the grooves in the floor, and the drop mechanisms will need repair before the tunnels are clear.”

  “Drop stones… seal your tunnels?” Adam asked.

  “Defensive measure,” Darius said shortly.

  “And you don’t know how to survive up here?”

  “We can manage.”

  “Is that macho-commander speak for no?” Adam asked. “No offense, but it sounds like macho-commander speak for no.”

  “That is not a helpful attitude,” Esmeralda said, bristling slightly.

  “Neither is ignoring the facts,” Adam said evenly. “You’re going to need him,” he added, indicating the bound creature.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You said it yourselves. He’s survived up here for who knows how long. And if you don’t know the terrain, you need someone who does.”

  “Too dangerous,” Darius said flatly.

  “And you’re not?”

  “We only have four mounts,” Darius said. “He would need to ride with someone.”

  Adam glanced around at the three others. This felt like the start of a video game. One with the dialogue options down at the bottom, usually labeled “diplomatic,” “attempt to be inappropriately witty,” or “get angry and probably get yourself killed.” Mentally, he chose diplomatic. At least for now. “Fine,” he said. “Teach me how to ride, and he can ride with me.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I’m the one who wants him around because I think he’s my best bet at surviving, and I’m not really important to any of you, right? If he plays up or mucks me around, you can ride on and take your chances without us.”

  Darius hesitated and then turned to the princess. “His argument makes a certain amount of sense, Princess.”

  “Then he can free the captive,” Esmeralda said coolly. “And if he is torn to ribbons in the process, we will have our answer. If not, we can congratulate him on his clear thinking.”

  “Thank you,” Adam said, only slightly sarcastically.

  Esmeralda’s expression was unreadable. “You are very welcome.”

  THE OTHERS had withdrawn to what they must have felt was a safe distance, and Adam could feel their watchful eyes on him as he squatted next to the mass of dark fur. Close up, he could make out the darker brown stripes that crossed its back, breaking up the richer chestnut—or at least the patches of chestnut fur that were not covered in dirt or muck. He could also count the creature’s ribs and wondered at how gaunt it was. Even as he looked at the lanky-limbed humanoid lying prostrate in its bonds, its chest cavity rising and falling gently with each breath, he saw it was regarding him out of one, barely open,
deep brown eye.

  Adam had always heard the phrase “struck by the intelligence of the animal’s gaze” bandied about, but in this particular instance, he was struck by the intelligence and humanity in the gaze that regarded, no, measured him. He still wasn’t sure if this was some elaborate theme park full of special effects, if everything he was experiencing was real, or if he was just locked in a padded room somewhere drooling into a straightjacket, but regardless of where he might be, the person lying bound on the ground was exactly that—a person.

  “Did you get all that?” he asked. “I mean, did you understand it all?”

  The eye closed and then slowly opened, and the man—Adam assumed it was a man—nodded ever so slightly.

  “So, um… I’m going to free you now…. Don’t, like, bite or anything, okay?”

  Even with the twisted leather gag in his mouth, there was the ghost of a smile and a feeble shake of the head.

  Although Adam had his sword, he found the knots simple enough to undo after a bit of worrying. Several years in the Scouts had proved handy in the end—although strangely, he felt a working knowledge of bondage might have been more useful in this instance. Of course, in bondage, the typical idea was to restrain without hurting. Whoever had tied these knots hadn’t had such niceties in mind. As he freed the man’s lightly furred arm, Adam could see the others tensing. The feeling crackled between the three observers, and it only intensified as the man continued to lie on the ground, with Darius putting his hand carefully on his saber. Almost embarrassed, Adam turned his back and focused instead on freeing the man’s legs and feet, catching an accidental glimpse under the tattered loincloth that appeared to be all the man was wearing—or all he had been permitted to retain. Only when Adam removed the taut gag and began coiling the now slack cord did the man slowly roll into a sitting position, carefully keeping his hands in full view the entire time.

  “Thank you,” the man said, his voice thick and dry.

  “No worries,” Adam said softly. “I’m Adam.”

  “Duin,” the furred man said.

  “Shall we get moving?” Xavier’s voice cut in. “As much as I would love to take our time getting to know each other, we have a kanak war band somewhere back there that could sniff us out at any moment.”

  “Good point, Magister,” Esmeralda said, stepping closer to the mottled green-and-black lizard that must have been her mount and glancing around the edges of their small clearing. “Let us ride.”

  “And… how do I do that?” Adam asked.

  Duin raised a tentative hand. “I can—”

  “No, you can’t,” Xavier snapped firmly.

  “—show you how,” Duin finished softly.

  “I will show you,” Darius said firmly. “Come and meet Zoul.”

  “Zoul?” Adam asked. “Who’s Zoul?”

  ZOUL TURNED out to be one of the larger lizards that had been dusk baking in the reddish light, which made him appear an angry black. On closer inspection, however, Adam discovered he was really a dark green. His scales were edged with purple in a pattern not unlike the supple leathers Xavier and Captain Darius wore, and his eyes were slit vertically in the way of reptiles. A tall crest ran from the top of his head down part of his neck, and it appeared that the giant six-legged lizard would be able to raise or lower it at will, much like the plumage on some birds. However, what Adam really noticed was the lizard’s teeth—sharp, pointed, and each somewhere between two and four inches in length.

  “Zoul, this is Adam,” Darius said as they approached the lizard, who had turned his head to watch them with reptilian disinterest. “He’s going to be riding you for a while, along with… the Child of Selune. Don’t hurt him.”

  As if in response, a long bluish tongue flickered out, and a transparent inner eyelid dropped down over the lizard’s eye.

  Urged by Darius and trailed by Duin, Adam stepped closer to the lizard’s flank, noting how the leather saddle was fitted almost directly above the lizard’s middle set of legs, with straps securing it around the lizard’s chest, midsection, and tail.

  “You will need this,” Darius said, taking a wide leather belt out of a saddlebag. He strapped it around Adam’s waist. “It belonged to one of our champions, but… she doesn’t need it now. Do not dishonor it.”

  “Um… I’ll try not to,” Adam said as Darius buckled him in, allowing two long leather straps to dangle front and back of Adam’s person.

  “Good,” Darius said. “Now, to mount a lizard, you need to let him know you’re here by gently placing one hand on his foreleg. The other can be placed on his saddle. They’re used to riders, but you don’t want to spook them.”

  Adam tried very hard not to visualize a spooked lizard and exactly how it might react with its knifelike teeth.

  “Now we’re on the left of the lizard, so you want to step up onto his foreleg with your left leg and swing yourself over so you’re sitting in the saddle. Your Highness, if you wouldn’t mind demonstrating?”

  Obligingly, Esmeralda vaulted into her saddle with the grace of one who had grown up riding lizardback, then attached the heavy metal clips on her riding belt to catches in the saddle’s pommel and cantle.

  “Now you, Adam.”

  Adam found himself boosted by a helpful hand on the small of his back, and before he had time to panic, he was astride the great beast, clipped into the riding saddle, with reins in his hands and Duin clinging on behind him. Then came a quick reminder to keep his feet up on the strange leather protrusions on the side of the saddle—so designed to keep a rider’s feet from scraping on whatever surface the lizard was scrambling over, but they made Adam feel as though he was being spread out over a leather mount so he could be, well, mounted himself. All it needed was a B grade soundtrack and a dodgy camera angle and it could be streaming live over the internet for three dollars a month. He tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about Duin’s furry body pressed up against his, or the strange smell that was part dirt, part strong mammalian musk, and part something altogether different that he couldn’t quite pin down. He especially tried not to think of the wolfman’s sharp teeth mere inches from his own ear. And then, with luggage stowed in the tough netting that was bundled over the lizards’ rear haunches, Darius ordered them all to move out and prodded Zoul into a skittering amble. Almost immediately Adam was far too busy trying not to fall off to think about anything else.

  Chapter 3

  FOR WHAT seemed like an eternity, Adam’s world narrowed to the time between each lizard-induced jerk and crotch-crushing jolt he was enduring. Grimacing in pain, he tried to work out how Darius or Xavier could possibly ride as comfortably as they seemed to be doing, when Duin came to his rescue.

  “You need to brace yourself with your legs,” he murmured. “Squeeze the saddle with your knees to keep your body raised above it. If you need to, you can lean forward and brace with your hands on the saddle horn or even on your lizard’s neck. It is also the position to be in if you need to fit through a narrow tunnel—or avoid being knocked in the head by a low-hanging stalactite.”

  “Right, thanks.”

  Adam did as Duin suggested and found the entire experience suddenly very much like his first, and only, attempt at riding a horse at anything greater than a sedate walk. All his concentration had to go into keeping his balls from being squished, and that was supposed to be done by moving with your mount to prevent said ballsack ever coming into contact with the hard leather of the saddle. Twelve-year-old Adam never quite managed to master the canter, and twenty-five-year-old Adam still suspected he’d looked like a cartoon character bouncing on the back of a galloping horse when the instructor urged them into a run. Worse, his leg muscles had quickly given up hope of supporting his body properly and left his testicles to their own, very limited devices. Now his legs protested but took their share of the burden, which was a big improvement. However, he found it to be very much like bracing himself in a plank position at the gym—meaning every muscle in h
is body was probably going to be sore later.

  Of course, this new posture also meant Duin’s crotch was riding against his ass each time Zoul’s six-legged gait made its up-and-down cyclical movements. In other circumstances, this would either be cause for embarrassment or celebration, but Adam had other things to worry about than potentially awkward contact between intimate body parts. As it was, he spent most of the ride hanging on for dear life and occasionally remembering to tug on the reins. Thankfully, Zoul proved largely self-powered and self-motivated, following the others with barely any encouragement from his rider.

  Even with the lizard’s autopilot switched on, movement through the wet forest was difficult. Adam had to make a conscious effort to remember to duck to avoid being swiped by tangles of vines and broad arrow-shaped leaves of blue and green. Small boat-shaped pods dangled like skeletal fingers from trees here and there, and bright pinkish flowers grew from rosettes of long, fleshy leaves that he was certain were growing directly on the branches, rather than out from them. There were no signs of habitation, human or otherwise, and the entire experience had a surreal lost-world flavor to it, although this was aided by the lizards’ philosophy of movement, which their riders had obviously embraced since early childhood: go straight from point A to point B, and if anything gets in your way, go over it.