Dragonslayer

by Matthew Lang

  Joeri looked between them, and his smile widened. “You two do not behave like master and servant.”

  “Duin’s not my master,” Adam said, his eyes twinkling.

  “Adam, that’s not what he… oh. He enjoys sarcasm, Joeri.”

  Joeri shook his head. “I do not understand, but I’m sure you have good reason.” He reached into a carry-sack and brought out a suit of armor not unlike his own, but with the chitinous plates a bony brown color, accented by a white crescent on the chest piece, with the pointed ends of the moon motif pointing down toward the ground. “This is for you, Sir Adam. A trophy, if you will, but one that may also keep you safe on the field of battle.”

  Adam reached out to touch the cool surface of the breastplate. “Thank you, Chief Hunter,” he said, running his fingers over the delicate work. “It’s beautiful—all these patterns….”

  “We didn’t do those,” Joeri said quickly. “Princess Esmeralda insisted on working some enchantments into the carapace.”

  “What enchantments?” Adam asked, fingering the subtle weblike patterns that shone dimly in orange and blue.

  “I don’t know, Sir Adam. You should ask her.”

  “Where is she anyway?” Adam asked. “I haven’t seen her since before… before I rode out.”

  “Battle planning,” Duin said, coming over to inspect the armor. “At least that’s the official story. Unofficially she and the elders are butting heads over the best way to reach the Golden City, how large an escort to send, and how to coordinate the armies when the Aergonites eventually do show up.”

  “If they show up,” Joeri said.

  “What do you mean, ‘if they show up’?” Adam asked.

  “The cave dwellers have lived beneath the rock for generations,” Joeri said softly. “And they cast out their unwanted to the surface. How many, do you think, really have the courage to face the light of Helene?”

  “I think they’ll come,” Duin said quietly. “They may be frightened of the sky, but they will come if their princess asks it of them.”

  Joeri shrugged, a surprisingly economical movement. “I wish I had your faith, Duin.”

  “I grew up there, Joeri,” Duin said. “We—they—fear the surface, but they also want to live here again, the way they used to.”

  “They’d better come,” Adam said. “If we’re going to liberate their city, the least they can do is turn up to lend a hand. Crap, liberate a city. How many people do you think we’re actually going to have to fight through?”

  “One thing at a time, Adam,” Duin said soothingly. “Let’s see how well your armor fits you before we worry about what it’s going to have to stop.”

  “When did you take the measurements?” Adam asked as Duin and Joeri strapped him into his armor, starting with the tough leather leggings.

  “When you were feverish from moon spider venom,” Duin said, strapping on Adam’s greaves before helping him into the leather jerkin, to which the breastplate, backplate and pauldrons attached. Vambraces, leather riding boots, and an open-faced helm styled like the spider’s head completed the ensemble, and it was only after putting the helmet on that Adam realized the cheek guards really were the spider’s mandibles.

  “I feel like I’m looking out from inside the spider’s mouth,” Adam muttered.

  “You look very imposing, actually,” Duin said as he finished buckling on the left vambrace.

  “I suppose that’s something,” Adam said, stretching to test the fit. “I have to say, it’s a lot lighter than I’m used to.”

  “You are used to metal armor, true?” Joeri asked.

  “How did you know that?”

  “You move as one used to carrying more weight. I assumed that would be the effect of metal armor. We will have to change the way your body thinks—our armors are softer than the steel of Aergon, and you will not be able to rely on your armor to stop every blow.”

  Duin grunted. “From what I saw, the Aergonites have started making carapace armor as well, though.”

  Joeri nodded. “They would. Even where the ore is plentiful, the fire to make steel would be risky for them.”

  “And better used in blades?” Duin suggested.

  Joeri nodded and picked up a couple of heavy quarterstaves. “Come, Sir Adam. We should seek out a place to practice.”

  JOERI’S IDEAS for training locations were wildly varied, and each one found a new way to test Adam in completely unexpected ways. First there was a heavy patch of dense bamboo through which he was expected to creep soundlessly, or closer to soundlessly than he thought physically possible. Then there were the slime-and-moss-covered stepping stones half submerged in a fast-tumbling stream that he had to navigate while avoiding blows and missiles from a sure-footed assailant, and finally the thin, swaying branches at the very top of the willowy pine trees in which the haerunwoln lived. Even after seeing and touching the thick spider-silk safety net below them, Adam had stood paralyzed in fear for a good ten minutes before daring to venture out onto the limb, and lasted barely one more before falling off when Joeri unexpectedly jarred the branch he was standing on. It was a bit like trying to walk on a tightrope, a skill he had never attempted before, but suddenly the close-fitting soft boots made sense, even if his wooden tightrope was gnarly, uneven, and swayed in the slightest breeze. It took him several sleeps to adjust to a more acrobatic way of moving, let alone fighting, and that didn’t even begin to cover the lessons he received on fighting from lizardback. Adam fell into bed stiff and sore at the end of each sleep’s training, even after a strong massage from Duin.

  “Sometimes I hate you,” Adam grumbled after falling into the safety net for the thousandth or so time.

  “For a groundsman, you’re doing well, Adam,” Joeri said. “I’m sure I’d struggle learning your fighting style too.”

  “Maybe,” Adam replied. “I just wonder how much more time we’ll have to train like this.”

  Joeri smiled bleakly. “At least until the generals stop bickering about the armies and get them here, which could be many months.”

  “I don’t want to wait that long.”

  “Better to wait and train than be dead,” Joeri said. “Hunting is a lot of waiting, Adam. Sitting and waiting for the perfect moment and hoping you don’t go hungry next sleep.”

  Adam rolled to his feet, springing across the net with the ease of practice, and climbed back to the treetops. “So let’s go hunting and see how good I really am.”

  “I don’t think so,” Joeri said. “I’m teaching you how to fight, not hunt.”

  Adam grabbed his staff, bounced himself to a higher branch, and swung at Joeri, who easily leaned away from the blow.

  “Adam, you’re being rather rash in your—”

  With his legs locked around the upper branch, Adam waited until the branch whipped back up to bring his staff crashing into the back of Joeri’s legs, sending the hunter tumbling into the net. After inching back toward the main trunk, Adam dropped onto the sturdier branch below and stared down at Joeri, who was still lying in the net. “So, can you teach me how to hunt now?”

  Joeri bounced to his feet in one smooth motion. “When you can do that on the first strike, yes.”

  “Spoilsport,” Adam said. “All right, come on and let’s do this.”

  Movement gave way to combat and weapon training, and soon Adam and Joeri were dueling with staves on the stepping stones as they attempted to drop each other into the river. Adam learned quickly that speed and momentum were everything to the haerunwoln style of fighting, and he worked hard to unlearn the habits of blocking or parrying strikes that he had picked up with the SCA back home. To the haerunwoln way of thinking, it was better to not be where you could be hit in the first place, especially if you could ready your own attack while avoiding the incoming blow. Adam did find, though, that he often won by blocking or deflecting a blow that Joeri expected him to dodge, and lashing back when the hunter wasn’t expecting an attack.

  “I think I
need to learn your fighting style,” Joeri said after the third time Adam dumped him in the river.

  “Maybe,” Adam said. “More importantly, who are we really going to be fighting? I somehow doubt the dragon fights like you or me.”

  “I think the real question is, how do the people under the dragon’s control fight?” Duin asked from the riverbank.

  “Like madmen,” Joeri replied. “I’ve only faced them once, but they attacked with no regard for their own safety—and fought on long after other people would have fled.”

  “Great,” Adam said, reaching down to give Joeri a hand up. “The attack of the living zombies.”

  “The what?”

  Duin laughed suddenly. “Actually, that’s a very good description.”

  “We could use some of those ourselves,” Joeri said. “The real ones, I mean. They’d be a great help against the dragon’s thralls.”

  “Yeah…,” Adam said slowly. “They would have been.”

  “What do you mean ‘would have been’?” Joeri asked sharply.

  Adam and Duin shared a long glance.

  “The only necromancer I know they had was Xavier,” Adam said. “Princess Esmeralda never mentioned him taking on an apprentice.”

  “Not to mention Khalivibra got to him,” Duin said. “The last thing we want is two lots of zombies attacking us.”

  Joeri sighed. “Shards, I was hoping we’d have them to bolster our forces. No wonder the elders have been bickering for so long.”

  “Are you allowed to say the elders are ‘bickering’?” Duin asked.

  “Probably not,” Joeri said. “But everyone is saying it. Come on, let’s go eat.”

  Chapter 18

  THE PEOPLE of Boolikstaad rarely took meals in their homes, having no fire to cook with—or at least, not having fire in their homes of living wood. What fires there were tended to be kept tiny by necessity, lest a smoking section of the forest give away their location. Instead there were great communal eating plazas just above ground level, close to the hot springs where the haerunwoln did most of the cooking and bathing. Not for the first time, Adam marveled at a society that ran without currency, with each individual giving what they could and receiving what they needed. He had, of course, seen evidence of barter for specific items and commissions, but by and large, every haerunwoln contributed to their city in whatever way they could, and always lent a hand to a neighbor in need.

  The plaza was always busy, and today was no exception, with a number of people already seated at the long communal tables. Joining the queue, Adam, Duin, and Joeri helped themselves to a rich seafood—or more accurately riverfood—soup of crab, watercress, pepperberry, and a sour berry that looked a bit like a tomato. There were also chewy balls of bland tapioca and hot chilies floating in the soup, and a barbecue of coal-baked spider. With plenty of fresh fruit for the taking, the meal was simple but delicately flavored, and Adam was still thankful for a meal he didn’t have to catch and prepare himself. They found seats off to one side, near a planter box of flowering succulents, and were halfway through their meal when the buzz of conversations quieted down.

  Looking up from his wooden bowl, Adam saw Esmeralda heading purposefully toward them, and he rose smoothly to his feet.

  “Your Royal Highness,” he said, with what he thought was a formal bow. “How kind of you to grace us with your presence.”

  Esmeralda smiled winsomely. “Thank you, Sir Adam. I trust I am not intruding.”

  “No, of course not,” Adam said, rising from his bow. “Please have a seat, Your Highness,” he added, pulling out a chair for her.

  “Thank you, Sir Adam,” Esmeralda said, sitting demurely at their table. “Why exactly are we doing this?”

  “Adam’s decided the safest thing to do is attempt to kill Khalivibra,” Duin said.

  “And that’s turned him into a court fop?”

  “Hey, sitting right here,” Adam protested.

  “So is he,” Duin said meaningfully, glancing over at Joeri.

  Adam and Esmeralda exchanged a glance and then looked over at the chief hunter.

  “Please, continue to speak as if I am not here,” he said, smiling slightly. “I understand.”

  “You do?” Esmeralda asked.

  “Of course,” Joeri said. “Adam does not consider himself a hero but has decided to kill Khalivibra; as such he is acting as a hero should to get support for your war effort, Your Highness. The more support you have, the better his chances of success.” Joeri smiled. “I suppose true love must be a strong motivator.”

  Adam’s blood ran cold. “True love?” he asked, trying not to squeak.

  “And how he blushes,” Joeri said, his grin widening. “They will sing songs of you when you claim your bride, Sir Adam the Innocent.”

  “Bride?” Adam asked, staring at Esmeralda. “Ah….”

  “No need to act surprised,” Joeri said. “Everyone knows the reward for slaying a dragon.”

  “Sir Adam and I have agreed to discuss that, should we succeed,” Esmeralda said smoothly. “Any promises made before that would be premature.”

  “And very distracting,” Adam said honestly. “Let’s not count our chickens before they hatch.”

  Joeri frowned. “Excuse me, Sir Adam, but what is a chicken?”

  “Small, feathered, lays eggs… think tiny feathered lizard that’s kept for meat and eggs, okay? With wings.”

  “Really? Where can we find some of those?”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be around in a few hundred million years,” Adam said. “Look, can we just forget about the chickens? To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Esmeralda?”

  “Mostly I just wanted to talk,” Esmeralda said. “I haven’t seen you in quite some time.”

  “You look good, though,” Adam said. “Boolikstaad’s been good for you.”

  “The rest and food have been good for me,” Esmeralda said, rubbing her temples. “And the fact that I do not have to call upon magic every sleep has definitely helped. As for Boolikstaad… well, I suppose the elders are no worse than my father’s doddering old councilors back in Aergon. Just when I think we’ve reached an agreement, one of them raises another objection and we’re talking in circles for what seems like hours.”

  “They’re scared,” Joeri said. “If you succeed, the people who cast them out will return to the surface; if you lose, the dragon will probably raze Boolikstaad. Either way, our lives change forever.”

  “What do you think about it all?” Adam asked curiously.

  “I think it’s about time,” Joeri said. “We’ve been here for generations—a lot of us were born here, even me. We’re too comfortable here.”

  “Too comfortable?” Esmeralda asked.

  “We forget how fragile this haven of ours is,” Joeri explained. “If one of the large kanak tribes decided to leave the rainforest and move into the area and we didn’t scare them off or destroy them quickly, we’d be dead in short order. And as you said, Sir Adam, if just one of Khalivibra’s thralls finds out where we are, she’ll know. And if she comes for us….”

  “I still don’t get why she would,” Adam said.

  “She’s a creature of Helene,” Joeri said. “We are the Children of Selune, and until Selune forgives us, we will be hunted by the wrath of her sister.”

  “And according to your religion, it’s all right to kill the instrument of the wrath of the gods?” Adam asked.

  “Isn’t that normally how you pass the trials of the gods?” Esmeralda asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been tried by the gods as such,” Adam said. “I’m just glad there won’t be religious fanatics on this side wanting to stop us from winning.”

  Joeri shrugged. “If there were, they’d have left by now and we’d be dead.”

  “That’s a depressing thought,” Adam said.

  “True, though,” Duin said.

  “Would you like something to eat, Your Highness?” Adam asked in a louder tone of v
oice.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Everyone’s trying to listen in,” Adam hissed.

  “Thank you, Sir Adam, but I already ate,” Esmeralda said. “Actually, I also came to tell you that I will be leaving in a few sleeps’ time.”

  “You’re what?”

  “Leaving Boolikstaad. I need to get back to Aergon if we’re going to get anything done,” Esmeralda said. “You know that.”

  “I thought you were still arguing strategy,” Adam said.

  “We were,” Esmeralda admitted. “But whatever we choose to do, the unchallenged fact remains that I am the only one the Aergonites will listen to. I have to go.”

  “They didn’t want you to?”

  “If they have me here, they have leverage to make sure that my people treat them fairly,” Esmeralda said. “That’s why you’re staying here.”

  “What?”

  “Well, you’re the only other person they can hold on to.”

  “It does give you more time to train,” Duin said, his voice carefully neutral.

  “Look, not that I’m anxious to retrace our steps and go through everything we did twice more, but… you won’t make it by yourself. We barely made it here.”

  “With a traitor in our midst and kanak on our heels,” Esmeralda pointed out. “I won’t have those problems going back, and Elder Faas has agreed to provide me with an escort.”

  “How much of an escort?” Adam asked.

  “Four warriors,” Esmeralda said. “We made it with fewer, and any more would make us easy to spot.”

  “Just like that?” Adam asked. “This is all happening rather fast, don’t you think?”

  “We’ve been here for six weeks,” Esmeralda said. “That’s long enough, don’t you think?”

  “And when you return?”

  “One of my generals will come to Boolikstaad, and we’ll coordinate a strike on the Golden City,” Esmeralda said. “We’ve already started sending out scouts to see where the weak points are. The idea is to create a diversion. We lure the dragon away, slip you into the city, and you destroy the dragon’s power source. Then, when she comes back to investigate, you strike her down.”