by Sam Ferguson
He stormed up to the camp and shouted at them. “You call me a buffoon! You should look at yourselves!”
Dengar wheeled around and drew his sword. “Not another move, Alistair, or I’ll split you in two!”
“You stole from us!” Foman cut in.
Severin shook his head. “You said you wanted a dragon, well I found him. Whatever I took from you, he did worse to me!” Severin spun around, displaying his empty hands. “He took everything! My mule, my charms, and the fire drake parts I had gathered to use as well. If you idiots had tracked him down, none of this would have happened!”
Dengar rushed forward, but instead of striking Severin, he grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. “You saw him!”
Severin nodded and pushed back from Dengar. “He’s that way!” he said as he pointed in the direction of the aspen grove. “It’s nearly a day’s journey by foot, but you can find the monster in a grove of aspen trees chewing on my mule’s bones!”
Dengar spun around and began barking orders. “We need to set out immediately. Foman, gather our gear. Kathair, go and fetch the horses we stabled in the village. Britner, go with Kathair. Go now!”
Severin smiled as the camp burst into a commotion of action. They paid him no mind as he departed from them toward the north. When he was sufficiently far away, he took to his raven form once more and set out to find suitable shelter. Dawn was coming soon, and he was not about to get caught out in the sun.
*****
Lepkin was running toward the village, easily keeping pace with Britner who was dressed in every piece of his armor except for his helmet. His feet set lithely upon the grassy hills, propelling him forward in the night as his mind raced for answers that his limited wisdom was unable to offer.
If he did nothing, the dragon slayers would reach Leatherback and there would be a battle. Whether Leatherback won or not, the consequences would be dire. Kyra’s secret would become known, and the dragon slayers would not offer her any degree of amnesty from her crimes. They would fight through Headmaster Herion, or anyone else if needed, to get to her.
On the other hand, if he betrayed the dragon slayers, he would be dishonored. He might keep Kyra’s secret safe, but the dragon slayers would come for him.
Off in the distance, the lights in the village were twinkling, reminding him that he had precious little time to choose. In a moment, he saw his future flash through his mind in both options.
There was only one thing he could do.
He reached out and tripped Britner with his left leg.
The large man fell to the ground and tumbled down the hill.
Lepkin sprinted toward Britner. The dragon slayer cursed Lepkin and pushed up to his hands and knees. A momentary doubt fluttered through Lepkin’s mind.
Britner didn’t know that the trip was intentional. Lepkin could easily apologize, blame it on the darkness, take a slap or two to the face, and be done with it.
The young boy narrowed his eyes on Britner. No. There was no going back. He leapt in, driving a forceful kick to the back of Britner’s head. The man slammed his face into the ground and snarled.
“Kathair!” Britner launched himself up. He was extremely nimble for having all of that armor on. “What’s gotten into you?”
Lepkin drew his sword. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“What are you going to do with that?” Britner asked.
Lepkin didn’t respond. He came in with a sideways chop. Britner blocked it easily with his left arm, allowing the strong Telarian Steel to absorb the shock of the blow.
Lepkin struck again and again, but Britner blocked each attack.
Then, Lepkin heard the terrifying sound of steel scraping against steel. Britner had drawn his sword.
“Explain yourself, and I might let you live,” Britner said.
Lepkin fell into his training with the elves in Tualdern. Britner was larger, and more experienced, but Lepkin pushed the fear out of his mind. He was going to win this fight.
He jumped in again, striking and slicing.
Sparks kicked off the two blades every couple of swings, but Britner merely laughed at Lepkin’s attacks. Little did the man know that Lepkin was holding back, purposefully allowing his attacks to be slower and predictable.
It was the only way Lepkin was certain he could catch Britner off guard.
Lepkin continued to press his assault at roughly half his actual speed. Then, just as Britner became lazy in his blocks, limply swinging his blade from side to side and laughing as he did so, Lepkin erupted into a fury of action that had the dragon slayer back-pedaling up the hill.
Lepkin swung left, then right, then down at the knee joint, expertly slipping his blade into the flesh behind the slim opening in the armor’s joint.
Britner howled with both pain and rage, but Lepkin pulled back, easily avoiding the onslaught of furious chops and swings. Then, Lepkin jumped left and slapped the back of Britner’s head with the flat of his blade. Britner stumbled forward, putting his left hand up to the back of his head to check for blood.
That was when Lepkin jumped up and came down hard with the pommel of his sword. He connected with Britner’s head with tremendous force, dropping the large warrior to the grass in a heap, face in the dirt and rump up in the air.
Lepkin used his foot to push Britner onto his side. The man was breathing, but his eyes were twitching behind closed lids and his limbs were limp.
“I’m so sorry,” Lepkin said once more, then he sheathed his sword and bolted for the village.
When he got to the stable, he prepared his horse and then pulled it out to the side of the stable and hitched it behind a large barn. He then went back to the stable and prepared some lengths of rope which he used to attach dangling sticks and bundles of straw to the tails of the dragon slayers’ horses.
“Sorry,” Lepkin said before lighting the sticks and straw on fire. He then smacked each horse on the rump and chased them out of the stable toward the coast.
It was a dirty tactic, but he needed every advantage he could get over the others. Besides, he had already dishonored himself with his betrayal of Britner. Scaring a few horses and possibly burning their tails a bit was the least of his worries now.
He rushed back to his horse and then galloped in a wide arc around the valley, heading straight for Kuldiga Academy. With any luck, he would be able to warn Kyra before the dragon slayers reached Leatherback.
Chapter 12
“There he is, right where the old goat said he would be,” Foman said as he pointed to the aspen grove.
“How did a dragon that big get this far into the Middle Kingdom without anyone seeing him?” Britner asked, rubbing the hard lump on the back of his head.
“Shut up, both of you. It’s time put the beast down. Foman, you go around the back. Britner, you will attack him from the front. I’ll come in from the side.”
The three dragon slayers pulled their helmets on and checked their weapons. Britner had a sword at his side and a spear made of Telarian Steel in his hands.
Foman carried a large halberd, also made of Telarian Steel.
Dengar was the only one carrying only a sword. Most dragon slayers preferred one long reach weapon, with either a sword or ax for close fighting. Dengar was always one to rush directly into the fray. He traded the comfort of reach for the ability to dance under a dragon’s legs and strike at the underbelly, trusting in his armor to protect him from the claws and fangs that were sure to come at him.
Dengar kept his eyes on the looming form just inside the grove. In terms of appearance, this particular dragon was rather dull. Dark brown scales and thick, stubby horns that curled out to the sides and then downward. Dengar had hoped that this would be a fantastic beast with bright green or orange scales, something he could brag about as he hung a scale upon his wall in his room back at Ten Forts.
This dragon was hardly worth his time.
He watched as Britner and Foman moved into position. They made no noise as
they moved through the forest. Their black, Telarian Steel armor gave them the appearance of thorned ghosts as they faded away into the trees.
Everything was going smoothly, and then the dragon turned and his massive blue eyes peered through the aspen branches and found Dengar.
“Icadion’s beard,” Dengar cursed.
The dragon rose to its feet and roared mightily. Dengar rushed in, not wanting the dragon to gain the advantage by leaving the ground. He raced between the bright aspen trees and rolled under the dragon’s talons as it swiped at him with its left foreleg.
Britner came in from the side, halberd jabbing at the dragon’s haunches while Foman dashed into the grove from the other side.
“Fire!” Foman shouted.
Dengar looked up to see the dragon’s head rearing back. The tell-tale glow of red and orange appeared in the back of its throat and then came the hissing roar of flames. Dengar turned and covered his eyes. The searing flames washed over him like a terrible wave, crashing him down to the ground. The Telarian Steel held fast, but it did little to cool the fires as they beat down upon him. The leather padding beneath the armor afforded him some protection, but sweat poured from his body and he found it nearly impossible to breath except in short, quick breaths.
The fire stopped then, with only the lingering flames atop the grass or the nearby trees still burning. Dengar turned to see that Foman had charged in to distract the dragon. The man was jabbing his spear in and out as quick as lightning, but nothing was getting through the monster’s scales.
“Watch out!” Britner called.
Too late.
The dragon’s tail slammed into Foman and sent him cart-wheeling through the air. He landed hard into an aspen, about half way up the trunk from the ground. The tree split and then the top half fell atop Foman, pinning him to the ground with a sickening thawump!
The dragon roared and glanced back at its tail. There were a few crimson gashes, courtesy of Foman’s barbed armor.
“You are the dragon slayers,” the monster said as it backed away and looked at Dengar.
Dengar paused. This dragon was different from the others he had fought before. It seemed unaffected by the blight. That made it no less lethal, of course, but it was curious to be sure.
“All dragons are enemies of the Middle Kingdom,” Dengar stated.
“I am not,” the dragon said clearly.
Britner moved in and swung his halberd up into the inside of the dragon’s right hip joint. The dragon snarled ferociously and leapt into the air. Dengar watched helplessly as Britner struggled futilely to free his weapon. The blade had bitten into the joint, and was now lodged solidly inside. As the dragon rose higher and higher, Britner’s grip began to slip.
The dragon flew up into the air and then shook itself as it dashed forward. Britner was thrown free, and came crashing down to land on a large boulder in the center of the clearing inside the grove of aspens. Sparks flew out from the stone as the armor bit and ground against it. From the way Britner’s back arched over the rock and his limbs hung limp, Dengar knew the man was dead.
A moment later a terrible wave of fire came roiling down from above. Dengar darted out to his right, but the dragon matched his every move. The flames found him, and pushed him down into the ground once more.
Just as the heat became so intense that Dengar was about to lose consciousness, a heavy point drove into his back, pinning him to the ground. The flames stopped, and the dragon’s rumbling voice was heard close above him.
“Finish it then!” Dengar shouted.
“Who told you where to find me?” the dragon asked.
“What difference does it make, demon?” Dengar spat.
“Someone from the school?” the dragon inquired as he pressed his heavy talon deeper into Dengar’s back. The Telarian Steel groaned under the pressure, but it held together enough to prevent the man from being run through.
Dengar was not about to give the dragon any information. “Foman!” he shouted, hoping his other comrade was still alive.
“Was it the boy?” the dragon asked.
Dengar stopped struggling for a moment. “The boy?” he repeated in a whisper.
“The boy who was with you, was he the betrayer?”
Dengar cursed himself. He had thought that Kathair had tripped Britner and run away out of fear. He had never suspected the boy to be in league with the dragon. “You know Kathair?” Dengar spat.
The pressure eased on the man’s back. “He did not betray me then?”
“I didn’t say that,” Dengar said, hoping he might be able to turn the dragon against the traitor.
The pressure lifted then. A moment later, Dengar was rolling across the ground, having been flicked by a large talon. “I can tell by the way you reacted that you had no knowledge of the fact that Lepkin knows me,” the dragon said. “Enough of this, I wish for no more blood to be shed.”
“You attacked me,” Dengar snarled as he pushed up to his feet and scanned the area for his sword.
“A fine accusation coming from the men who were setting an ambush at my home. I did not attack you, I have done no harm!”
Dengar saw his sword, but it was back where the dragon had pinned him. To run for it would mean to run toward the dragon.
The dragon must have noted Dengar’s stare, for he placed his right foreleg atop the weapon, concealing it entirely. “No more fighting,” the dragon said.
Dengar shook his head. He knew this was simply a trick. Dragons always used tricks. He needed to find a way to make it appear as though he was falling for the dragon’s feigned wish for peace. Hopefully that way he could buy himself enough time to formulate a plan.
“A merchant told me where to find you,” Dengar said.
“Merchant?” the dragon echoed. “I have not seen any merchants.”
“He said you ate his mule.”
The dragon shook his massive head. “I have done no such thing. I eat only from the forest, taking elk, deer, and moose as my food. If I am lucky, then I eat fish.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Dengar said. His eyes caught a flicker of movement near the broken aspen tree on the opposite side of the clearing in the grove. He didn’t focus on it though, for fear of drawing the dragon’s attention to it. He smiled at his turn of fortune, for the dragon could not see the smile through the helmet’s visor.
Foman was slowly, quietly, extricating himself from under the broken tree and sneaking toward the dragon’s rear with his spear. There was hope yet, as long as Dengar could keep the dragon talking.
The large warrior sat down in the grass and held his hands out to the sides as if to show he was giving up. “Tell me then, who ate the sheep to the north?”
“The fire drakes,” the dragon answered. “When I heard of them, I went and hunted them down.”
“What do you mean you heard of them?” Dengar pressed.
Foman was closer now, almost within range to strike.
The dragon seemed to frown. “I have a friend who told me about the attacks. I was afraid that you would go north, looking for dragons, and that you might eventually find me. I thought perhaps if I killed the drakes for you, then you would stop hunting for a larger dragon.”
“How did you know of us?” Dengar asked. Then, he put a finger in the air. “Wait, it was Kathair, wasn’t it? He told you we were here. Tell me, dragon, how long have you been in league with the boy? Did he demand part of your treasure to keep your secret?”
“He took nothing from me,” the dragon said.
An instant later he roared terribly and spun about.
As soon as Dengar saw his sword was uncovered once more, he leapt up and sprinted for it. He managed to pick it up and jump out of the way just before the dragon had fully spun around, placing a back foot down where the sword had been.
Dengar looked up and saw the black spear sticking out from an area near the underside of the dragon’s tail. He smiled wider and went to work on the dragon’s leg that h
ad just come down. He hacked with all of his strength, his sword biting into the scales on the inside of the leg and breaking them apart to slash the skin underneath. A spray of blood shot out and the dragon roared again.
Then the leg went up, coiling near the dragon’s underbelly and poised to strike. Dengar jumped to his left, but the dragon adjusted his aim and the clawed foot came back with tremendous force.
As a child, Dengar had once been kicked by a horse in the stomach. That incident had left him injured for days with terrible pain and a near-permanent dent in his abdomen.
This was much worse.
The talons connected first, driving into Dengar and lifting him off his feet. Then the force of the full foot slammed him a half-moment later and all the air in his lungs was suddenly gone, replaced by a burning desire for breath that he could not regain. The ground below him seemed to fall away as he flew up in an arc over the aspen trees at the edge of the clearing. He hadn’t reached the apex of his flight before slamming into an exceptionally tall tree.
After the ringing in his ears cleared and his vision came back to him, he realized he had not fallen to the ground after hitting the tree. Instead, his barbs and blades on his armor had hung him on the tree. As the tree swayed under his weight, he watched the scene unfold below.
Foman was terribly outmatched.
Dengar couldn’t understand it. As a trio, they had defeated several other dragons together. The battles had been hard, but never as one-sided as it was in this case. Foman put up a valiant effort, cutting and slicing with his sword as the dragon parried and danced around him.
Then came the blood-curdling scream. The dragon, having learned his lesson about the barbs on the armor, used a single talon to deliver the death blow. He came in over the top and drove his talon down through the neck joint where the armor was weakest. Foman crumpled to the ground and then the dragon turned back to regard Dengar.
“We will never stop,” Dengar said as the dragon leapt up into the air and hovered in front of him, beating his leathery wings and bobbing slightly up and down.
