Dragon Skin

by G. L. Snodgrass

  For two more years I searched. Following reports and rumors of reports. A dragon had been sighted in the Eastland’s. I would travel there only to find the beast had departed, or more likely, never existed. Another was said to be in the swamps of Ostern. Again, no luck.”

  “It was a rough life Your Majesty. Especially after the comforts of that Davorian village,” I said and almost smiled to myself when I caught the look of concern on Brianna’s face. Was she jealous? Nothing would be better than to learn she was jealous and had pined for me a little.

  “I lived on the road. Alone, with nothing but my horse and my sword. Each day I rode. Each night I practiced. Every person I met along the way I queried for news of Dragons. My life revolved around my quests. Finally, an old farmer told me about a traveler reporting tales of a Dragon.

  “Where?” the king asked as he leaned forward. I had him; if he accepts my story I had him. My heart raced. So close after so long. Don’t fail Stephan, there is too much on the line.

  “The farmer told me that a young dragon had been sighted in the Maitlen Mountains. He said that the beast had been terrorizing the locals for over a year. Taking both people and livestock. The mountains echoed with the screams of over twenty people taken back to its lair and devoured.”

  Now, for the first time I looked at Brianna, her eyes big in shock, she hung on my every word. They all hung on my every word.

  She was as beautiful as ever I thought, letting them wait a moment. Her soft skin glowed. Her eyes sparkled and her luscious hair fell, framing a feminine face of pure love and joy. My heart skipped as I became lost in her stare.

  “Then what,” the wizard demanded.

  I smiled back to him. You old prick, I thought. Thank you.

  “It took me months to reach the foot of the Mountains and another week to climb to the top. As you know the Maitlen Mountains are the highest of all the kingdoms. I climbed and climbed. Hand over fist up narrow trails and across snow bound passes. I climbed so high that I could look down on the tops of clouds. The air grew thin and the smells of the forest disappeared with the trees until only rock remained.”

  Here I paused to let the scene set in and looked off into the distance as if remembering those high peaks.

  “Once there,” I continued. “I began my search. For two more weeks I looked into every cave. Each hollow and possible hiding place. Nothing worth eating lives at those heights. I became sore and dizzy. Then I became hungry, tired and ready to give up. Sure that once again the rumors had been lies.

  After relentless searches, with no food, I decided enough was enough. I would climb down the mountain the next day.

  I was awoken the very next morning by the distant cry of an animal. An animal so large that its roar sounded like a waterfall. The sound sent my bones to shivering and my mouth became dryer than the Davorian dessert. I wanted to find a hole and crawl into it and pray the beast didn’t find me.”

  “Finally, gathering my nerve I searched the skies and saw the Dragon. His wings drumming a steady beat as he returned home, a yearling cow clasped in his claws.”

  Every person in the room was holding their breath. Even Roland was no longer pretending disdain.

  “The monster was huge yet he flew through air like a starling. The cow twisted to get free but Dragon's claws squeezed tightly. The cow was well and truly trapped. Then the Dragon tilted his head back and gave another roar of prideful delight. The sound sent a shiver into my soul. Gathering my things I started to follow the beast. Fighting to keep him in sight.”

  “I didn’t know if I could keep up. He might dip behind a mountain top and I would never see him again. Instead he landed on a hanging crag overlooking a rocky valley. With three quick chomps he finished his meal. Scrambling up the shale I tried to keep quiet but the rocks kept slipping from under me. Tumbling down the hill, clicking and clacking all the way.

  "The huge beast heard me, ruining any chance I might have at surprise. He roared and jumped off his perch to swoop down on me. I brought out my shield, expecting to be roasted. I waited for his fiery breath but nothing happened.

  Instead the giant winged lizard landed before me on the steep slope. His mighty weight causing the shale and loose rocks to slide from underneath him. He flapped his wings to regain his balance then tilted his head from side to side, his fangs dripping with saliva. Looking like a dog trying to figure out which hidden hand held the treat.”

  Brianna gasped and several people held their hands to their mouth in fear.

  “Obviously being full from his last meal he didn’t know what to do with me. I saw my opportunity and rushed him, screaming at the top of my lungs for reasons still unknown to me. At first he didn’t do anything. Surprised I think by the fact that a mere human thought he could attack a mighty dragon.”

  “Seeing that I was serious he drew back his long neck and let loose a blast of fire. I’d expected this, I’d planned for this. Using my shield I crouched behind it, waiting for him to exhaust himself, letting the fire flow around me. Unfortunately, no one ever tells you how long a dragon’s fire lasts. I’d thought second but still he bellowed. The shield grew hot and I feared I’d lose my grip and expose myself to a fiery death.”

  “The shield grew so hot that the heat passed through to my arm.” I said as I stopped and rolled back my sleeve, exposing my left forearm. The nasty scar crawled from wrist to elbow, red and wrinkled white skin testifying to the heat of the blast.

  People shuffled to get a better look. I twisted so that everyone could see and watched Brianna’s eyes narrow with concern and obvious pain. It helped my heart to know she still cared.

  “Eventually,” I continued. “The fire stopped and he began to draw in a huge breath to reload. I realized this might be my only chance. Knowing that even Davorian Steel couldn’t breach his armor, I rushed the monster and thrust my sword up into his mouth, between his teeth and directly into his brain. It was like pushing into a stone. My arm shook with the force. I know that I struck true but still the beast wouldn’t die. He roared and scraped at me with his mighty claws.”

  Here I paused and lifted my shirt showing them the three ugly scars across my belly. The jagged red lines could be nothing except a dragon’s caress.

  The king studied my wounds and looked me in the eye, begging me to continue. Everyone was beseeching me to continue.

  “His wing knocked me down, pulling the sword from my grip. It hung there, the tip buried in the roof of his giant mouth. He twisted and turned trying to free it but lost his footing and began to slide, then tumble, rolling down the hill. Every turn brought the hilt of the sword hard into contact with the ground. I expected the weapon to shatter and the beast to return to devour me, but it held. The Davorians had taught me well.”

  “At last the giant monster came to rest at the bottom of the rocky slope. Unmoving, Dead. The sword had done its job. I can tell you that no one was more surprised than I to have survived.”

  “The next difficulty was removing his skin. Even dead, some of its magic remained and I could not cut through its armor. I had to cut from the inside. Working down his long throat I removed the skin I show you now.”

  The room was silent, no one breathed, no one moved. Each person was up on that mountain imagining what they would have done.

  The king’s eyes darted between myself and the giant skin on the floor. This was the moment. If he believed me I was rich. If he didn’t I was dead.

  Smiling he nodded his head and said, “I believe you.”

  The room erupted in cheers. Sir Roland looked like he’d swallowed an ale mug. His face scrunched up in pain with nothing to do but accept the verdict. Brianna looked at me like a young woman should look at a man. Her eyes focused in admiration and pure love.

  “Name you price son. What will you take for your trophy? I would have it adorn my hall.”

  I looked at the king, then at Roland. Smiling I said “Only two things Sire, Kendall’s Keep and Lady Brianna’s hand in marriage.”r />
  The crowd yelled in surprise and the king looked down at me like he wanted to stomp me into a corner and leave me there. It was too much, his expression said.

  “Here me your majesty. Think about how good an offer I bring you. One, you get a Dragon Slayer as a liege man. Not many kings in our history have had a Dragon slayer bend a knee and swear an oath of loyalty. Two it places a Dragon Slayer in an empty keep on your border. Your neighbors to the west will think twice before they encroach. Three, it places Lady Brianna in another house. No longer will you have to suffer her barbed tongue and biting wit.”

  Any one of the arguments might have been enough but I think it was the last that did it. Brianna had frozen at the mention of her name. I had not discussed this with her. Was I overstepping my boundaries? Did she still want me? The gossip said she was betrothed to Roland, had she decided to forget me and accept that low frog of a man.

  “What of it Bri?” The king asked.

  “What, No,” Roland yelled jumping up as his hand went to his sword. I swear if looks could kill I would have died two lifetimes ago.

  “Sit down!” the king bellowed. People forgot how forceful he could be when he wanted to be. “Well Bri, do you want this man?”

  She paused a moment, her face white. Her eyes boring into me trying to understand. “Yes, your Majesty, of course I will take him for a husband,” she said. My heart began to beat again.

  .o0o.

  Stephan

  Brianna and I rested our horses as we looked out over The Kendall Valley. Tonight would be our wedding night. I’d refused to share her bed while under her uncle’s roof. We would wait until we reached our new home.

  A distant gray stone castle nestled in the foothills protecting the only path to the mountain passes. Our new home. Two villages rested on the valley floor separated by checkerboard green and brown farms. It looked peaceful and productive. My heart swelled with pride, it was all ours. Quite a long way from a Smith’s forge.

  “Stephan are the Davorian girls as pretty as they say?” Brianna asked. I think she was worried about the night before us.

  “Not as pretty as some from my homeland,” I said with a smile. “But yes they are beautiful.”

  “Oh.” was all she said.

  I smiled to myself. “Of course, they’re not as pretty as the women of Autsland,”

  “Where is that,” she asked.

  “On the far said of the Davorian dessert is a high mountain range. On the other side is a green land with mighty rivers flowing down to a deep blue sea.” Her eyes grew big; she’d never been more than a few miles from her Uncle’s home.

  “In these rivers,” I continued “lives a mighty lizard called the crocodilia. This giant lizard has no magic, doesn’t fly, nor does it breathe fire. But some say that once killed, if done properly, it looks just like a Dragon’s skin.”

  My Brianna didn’t say anything, her smile slowly matching mine. There wasn’t much to say. Sometimes the story is enough.

  The End

  A Demon's Nightmare

  Chapter One

  Landon Marshall was harder than ironwood and sharper than Damascus steel. That might be why God came to him for help.

  Head down, his hands buried in his pockets and shoulders hunched, the big man plowed through the cold wind. The weak street lamps threw everything into black and white. Casting shadows across the tight brownstone houses. The desolate road sparkled with an early mist as his boot steps echoed off the parked cars.

  Landon Marshall was pissed, never a good thing. He spit into the gutter, trying to rid this feeling of pent up frustration. He'd just lost his job. He had forty two dollars and his last condom in his wallet, and the landlord’s final notice sitting on the kitchen table at home.

  Things couldn’t get much worse. Of course, every time he had thought that in the past, he’d been proven wrong.

  It shouldn’t have been that big a deal. Some punk had been hassling a girl, barely old enough to be in there legally. Landon being Landon had told him to back off.

  The idiot, not liking being told what to do by a mere bartender, took a swing. Not smart, as anyone with any brains could have told him. Landon had fifty pounds of solid muscle on the guy and at six four, a good five inches. So he’d laid the punk out, simple, one swing, case closed.

  That should have been the end of it. But it seemed the jerk was the nephew of some guy that Manny owed a lot of money to; the bent nose kind of money. Case reopened and Landon was on the street.

  He pushed the hair out of his eyes and his hand back into his pocket. Oh well, it was time to be moving on anyway. I never saw a sight that didn’t look better looking back. Keep telling yourself crap like that and you might start believing it, He told himself

  A little part of him, buried deep down, had hoped it would be different here, but nope, not to be. Head down he continued home.

  An unexpected of movement, a glimpse of something not right, down the side alley caught his eye. Something big and leathery flickered beyond the green dumpsters. Landon hesitated, this wasn’t his problem, and it wasn’t his issue. Leave it alone he told himself and then proceeded to ignore his own good advice.

  Someone turned on a bathroom light on the third story bathing the alleyway in a week glow. There was enough light for Landon to see the three attackers converge on a solitary figure. Punching and kicking him relentlessly. He heard the hard crack as fists hit face and boot connected with knee.

  The man crumbled like a stack of blocks and lay on the pavement without moving.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Landon yelled, realizing how lame he sounded as soon as the words left his mouth. All he really wanted to do was to let them know they were being observed and that the smart thing would be to run away. He didn’t really expect it to work, but you never knew.

  All three of the attackers turned to stare at him as if he were that three headed dog Cerberus from Hell. Their faces full of surprise and hopefulness.

  Landon started down the alley. Instinctively his hands formed into fists and his shoulders straitened. The mood he was in tonight, a fight might be exactly what he needed. For the first time he caught a glimpse of the victim. The man looked to be about a hundred and twenty years old. With more wrinkles than a dried raisin and age spots the size of casino chips. He had a fine gossamer swatch of pure white hair shielding a balding head and brown eyes that seemed to sparkle in the weak alley light.

  The man glanced at Landon from the ground, his bloody lips parting in a weak smile of broken yellowed teeth. How had this guy taken those hit and survived? Landon wondered. There was no way that had been faked. You can’t recreate that special sound of fist hitting flesh.

  A red rage descended over him like a thick fog. Everything was shut out except the three young men high fiving each other at their accomplishments. Obviously not professionals, but way more than amateurs. His stomach rolled over as he rushed in, what had he gotten himself into this time?

  He hit the first teen with a shoulder in the gut, knocking him into his buddy then followed with a quick right to the remaining attacker. The connection of his fists with the other guy’s cheekbone sent a shiver of excitement down Landon’s spine that registered through the fog.

  “AAAARRRGH” Landon yelled at the top of his lungs and threw an elbow into a solar plexus before stomping down on an instep. He twisted and turned, throwing punches that connected, kicks that hit home and a head butt that burst a nose into a crimson shower of blood.

  The attackers got their licks in too. A fist connected with Landon’s right eye and staggered him for a moment. Giving another attacker time to try and tackle him. He turned and used the punk’s momentum to throw the guy head first into a brick wall. The teenager collapsed on the spot.

  Twisting back, Landon faced the other two. They stood there, sucking in huge gulps of air like wheezing bellows. Then their eyes drifted out of focus and looked over his shoulder, behind him. As he watched, the color drained from their faces like
cartoon thermometers. He actually saw the blood drop like an Otis elevator as a look of terror shot through their eyes.

  Landon gulped in more air and briefly looked over his should to see what was going on.

  The old guy had gotten up and as Landon watched, the man started to change. First by growing taller, standing up straighter. His hair started to thicken and convert from white to a straw colored blond. His skin turned from pale yellow to a healthy tan as the thousands of wrinkles started to disappear like stars of the eastern sky in the early morning, one after the other they vanished until he stood there with a flawless complexion.

  Landon whipped around fully to face this creature. For surely no man could change like that. Even his cloths changed from a ragged patchwork of Salvation Army rejects to a charcoal Italian suit of the highest quality. The man rolled his shoulders as if someone had just removed a strait jacket. His eyes lost that cloudy cataract appearance and became crystal clear blue like a high mountain lake as he smiled with perfect teeth.

  After only a few seconds, a tall very handsome man of about twenty five stood where only moments before a crooked old geezer had lain. The man shot his cuffs and pulled each shirt sleeve into perfect position then looked down at his pants and ran a thumb and forefinger over the creases to make sure they lined up correctly. When he was done he straightened and straightened his sky blue silk tie as if he was looking into a gold plated mirror.

  Finally satisfied with his appearance, the blond guy smiled at Landon and dipped his head in a quick thank you.

  A scuffle and muttering behind him had Landon whipping around again in time to see the two remaining attackers retreating, dragging their fallen buddy down the alley. They couldn’t seem to get away fast enough. Landon felt an overwhelming desire to join them. He turned back to face this, this? … He didn’t know what and that frightened him to his core. Instead he clinched his fists and adjusted his feet. Preparing to run if necessary, fight if he had too.