A Dragon and Her Girl

by Max Florschutz

  “Very well,” Dostoy said with a nod of his head. She wondered how many remnants of other similar camps her guard were likely to find out in the forest. “Do you have any attendants or ladies-in-waiting?”

  She shook her head. “None. I can take care of myself.”

  “Very well. Do you require aid with your luggage? I am willing to lend a claw.”

  “That would be . . .” She glanced at the trunks atop her coach. “Very kind. Thank you.”

  Dostoy simply shook his head. “It is in my interests that you are as cared for as possible and have your needs met.” He dropped to all fours and strode forward. Despite her height, she still had to look up at him. “Your guard, of course, may be of use as well. I can show you to your room, and once you are settled, give you a tour.”

  His words seemed to shock her guard, who began to dismount, no doubt with intentions to help with her luggage. She let them, stepping up on the sideboard of her coach and motioning toward one of the heavier trunks. “This one, if you please,” she said, grabbing a trunk of her own. Dostoy complied, carefully and quite skillfully picking up the trunk and sliding it onto his back, where it lay held between wings. To her surprise, he then waited until she was ready before walking with her back toward the front doors.

  “Your residence will be on the second floor,” he said, his head angling in the direction of a set of windows. “From there, you will have a clear view of any suitors that come to complete your challenges.”

  She smiled. “I look forward to it.”

  Dostoy’s home was, as expected, tailored to suit his needs rather than hers. The halls were large and wide, the ceilings lifted. Stairs elongated to suit a quadrupedal gait, like small terraces rather than steps. Her rooms were both wide and spacious, and far nicer than what she was accustomed to at home. Built for princesses, rather than a seasoned campaigner’s daughter. She suspected that the wooden floor would be more comforting to her than the soft bed.

  But there were other rooms available to her as well. A kitchen, for cooking needs. Human-styled facilities—magic, no less. Extra rooms for servants—not that she had brought any—and even a study with wide windows and a collection of books, everything from histories to children’s stories. She’d raised her eyes at the selection, and Dostoy had admitted with a very human shrug that—after several complaints—he’d simply stocked a little bit of everything, but could acquire more if there was something specific she required.

  Before long her trunks had been delivered, and she dismissed the guard, watching as they rode after the coach.

  This is it, she thought, turning to look at Dostoy’s home once more. The dragon himself was waiting by the entrance. Now, we talk business.

  “So, Dostoy,” she said. “Let us see how you are at a game of Stakes.”

  Stakes was an old game—centuries old, in fact—but it was why she was here. Stakes was a game of strategy, played on a board with near-infinite combinations and methods of play. It involved careful tactical consideration and warfare, and she’d been playing it since she was a child. As the daughter of the one of the most famous mercenary leaders who’d ever lived, how could she not? It was a primer across kingdoms everywhere for budding generals and captains.

  And Dostoy was a dragon who played Stakes. Even more, from what he’d said, he was respectable at it. Which, for what she required, was key.

  In the old days, a dragon’s seizing the children—often daughters—of nobility had been a common enough tactic. They would take them someplace remote, demand a ransom, and wait. A prime method for a young dragon to acquire a horde.

  In response, tradition had sprung up regarding the fate of those who were able to rescue one so kidnapped, not through monetary means but by besting a dragon in combat. Those who could do so, regardless of lineage or upbringing, were rewarded for their deeds. Knighthood, usually. A place in a noble’s guard. Quite often the hand of the one rescued.

  When the truce had been established, suddenly that avenue of success to some had been closed. At least, until one enterprising dragon had arrived at a king’s court to announce a “matchmaking service” whereby he would serve as a challenge for potential suitors. For a small fee, of course.

  Nevertheless, the new method let the old traditions live, while even allowing for the one-time “victim” to set their own terms of “combat,” giving them the power to narrow their potential field of suitors from “good with a blade” to other areas of interest.

  Such as Stakes and military strategy. As the sole heir to her father’s company, control of his forces would be passed to her in due time. If she ever was to be married, she wanted someone who could live up to the legacy her father had built, someone who could command his armies alongside her with the skill and shrewd strategy the company was known for.

  She needed an equal who could command. And Dostoy would help her draw one out.

  The dragon led her to what she assumed was his own study, where an ornate wooden Stakes table sat near one long, broad window. A fire crackled nearby, though she could smell no smoke, and the other three walls were covered in shelves, each filled in turn with book after book.

  “You enjoy reading?” she asked as she spotted a human-sized seat sitting next to the Stakes table.

  “Studying,” Dostoy replied, lying down on the floor across the table from her almost like a cat. His faintly inhuman—but bright and welcoming—eyes met hers. “Reading for pleasure as well, but when not otherwise occupied with my responsibilities around the mountain, I enjoy learning.”

  “An admirable trait.” She looked down at the wooden tiles, marveling at their careful craftsmanship. Rivers, mountains, fords, roads, and cities were all carved into them in painstaking detail. Dostoy opened a compartment at the side of the table and began carefully picking out impressively detailed pieces. Pieces that were both expensive, she noted, and well-worn with use.

  “I hope this isn’t your only copy of Stakes?” she ventured, taking some of the pieces and setting them in place. “A table such as this shouldn’t be left out in the rain.”

  Dostoy laughed. “Not a chance, Lady Victoria. This is my personal table. I have a travel set I will be testing your suitors with.” The wooden pieces clacked against one another as he placed them with the ease of a seasoned player.

  “Good. A work of art such as this deserves to be cared for—and played,” she added, picking up more of her pieces. They were larger than she was used to, but then it made sense given who they had been made for. “When will the first suitors begin arriving?”

  “Tomorrow,” Dostoy answered. “At least, that is the first day announced that challengers may arrive. Between the appropriate times, of course. Ruleset?”

  “Full,” she answered without pause as the last pieces went into place. “Flip.”

  Dostoy nodded, a single claw tapping a spinner carved into the wood at the side of the table, a more luxurious option than the common coin flip. A dragon’s head carved into one side of the coin represented, she guessed, his chosen token.

  The other side of the piece came up, and she made her first move. A straightforward, if slightly complicated, opening gambit. To her satisfaction, Dostoy caught it immediately, reacting in kind. Excellent. His claims were not in boast, then.

  Play proceeded for several turns in silence before Dostoy spoke. “You know, Lady Victoria, forgive my saying so if you find it indelicate, but you are already unlike most of the clients I’ve served before.”

  “Really?” She lifted one eyebrow at him while moving a formation of infantry in a very aggressive bait. “How so?”

  Dostoy blinked, and she had the distinct impression that her reply had surprised him. “Well,” he began, choosing instead to send scouts across her flanks. “You’re tall for a human woman, for starters. No offense meant, but many of my other clients have been . . . thin. Waifish, really. You, on the other paw, carry a sword.”

  Her hand went to her hip, eyes going wide as she realized the truth o
f his statement. “My apologies,” she said quickly. “I neglected to leave it in my room.” To carry a blade in the home of one who had invited her—

  But Dostoy was shaking his head. “I meant no slight. By all means, wear it wherever you wish. My home is open to you. I merely meant it as an observation. That is all.”

  “Very well,” she replied, moving a few more of her forces in response to his latest push. Dice rolled in a wooden cup, assigning casualties as his tokens charged forward. “Thank you for taking no insult. I have worn a blade ever since I was a small child. In the future, I will leave it in my room until it is needed. No disrespect was meant.” She pulled her forces back in the face of his attack, pressing them together.

  “You also apologize with much more readiness and sincerity. Are you practiced with it? Your blade, I mean,” he added quickly.

  Her forces looked on the verge of loss. She pulled them further back. “Of course,” she replied. “Hence the third challenge.” The first was that a suitor had to be fleet of foot enough—or clever enough—to make it to the Stakes board with Dostoy defending it. The second was that they must beat him in a game. And the third was that she herself would duel them—openly as a test of their personal skill with combat, but privately as a test of their mettle, honor, and dignity. Only then would she consider giving them her hand. Victory in all three was not a promise.

  “Your challenges are unique as well,” Dostoy replied, leading his forces forward. Victory appeared imminent. Both went silent as he completed his movements. “I believe I will be quite interested to see what sort of suitors respond.”

  “Capable ones, one would hope,” Victoria replied, checking the board carefully. Perfect. She flipped over one of the wooden cards, exposing her cannons, hidden in the forest from his view, as they unleashed a blistering salvo that cut deep into the side of Dostoy’s army. Half his pieces were gone from the board in an instant.

  “That was impressive,” Dostoy replied, eyes wide with surprise as she moved the rest of her pieces forward, cutting into what was left of his pieces and wiping many more of them from the board. “I didn’t even suspect there was something there.”

  “I’ve been playing Stakes since I was a child, too,” she replied, ending her turn. Dostoy reached out with a single talon and knocked over the piece representing his commanding officer, a sign of surrender. “A grasp of strategy and tactics is vital, considering what I stand to inherit. Hence the challenge. If I could find someone who could be a match for me at Stakes, or even defeat me, then the company’s future will be in good hands.” She glanced at his remaining pieces, noting the count. “What was your hidden piece?” He smiled and flicked the barrier down.

  “A dragon?”

  “A personal favorite of mine,” he replied. “I almost never play without it. Powerful in the right claws—or hands—but prone to weakness in the wrong place.”

  “Well,” she said, dismantling her pieces. “Perhaps a second chance to prove yourself?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  “In fact,” she added as they began to set the board up once more, flipping and moving tiles to new locations. This time the battlefield became a long, narrow valley. “If you don’t mind, I suggest we play nightly, to hone one another’s skills.”

  “And further test those suitors who come calling?”

  “Precisely.” She spun the spinner, the dragon’s head coming up. “Your move.” Dostoy’s claws came down, and the second game began.

  Day Two

  By midday of the second day after her arrival, she was already bored.

  Not a single suitor had shown up, potential or otherwise. She had gotten her hopes up when she’d seen a young man approaching up the road, but he’d turned out to have been one of the local farmers Dostoy watched over, there to discuss something to do with crops on the eastern side of the mountain. Tedium had returned with his departure, and she’d retreated to one of the books she’d pulled from the shelves.

  But by midday, she was through with it. Her muscles were already sore from an extended sword practice the night before and that morning, and she was growing tired of reading about ancient kings. Surely there must be more to occupy myself with. She left her rooms behind her, wandering about the

  “lair”—she was starting to think of it more as an estate—and looking for something or someone to pass the time with.

  She found Dostoy lying in his study, bent over a large book and reading intently. To her surprise, a pair of glasses were perched across his muzzle, and she tried to keep her expression neutral as he turned to look over them at her. “Yes, Lady Victoria? Did you need something?”

  “Nothing more than a change of pace,” she said. “I needed to get out and do something other than read.”

  “I understand,” Dostoy said, plucking the glasses from his face with surprising care and placing them atop the book. “I believe that is usually why so many of my clients decline to come alone. Then again, sharp minds require constant stimulation. Would you care for another game of Stakes?” He’d yet to beat her, and she suspected he was building a grudging admiration of her talent at the game.

  “No no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t want to take time away from your studies. They are yours after all. What . . . are you studying, actually? I don’t believe I’ve asked.”

  “Magic,” Dostoy replied. “Primarily.”

  “Magic?” She stepped forward, taking a quick look at the pages of the book he’d left open. “Are you a wizard?”

  Dostoy let out a laugh, the tone surprisingly bright for one so large. “No,” he said. “As far as I know, there never has been a dragon wizard. But that doesn’t mean there couldn’t be.” He held up two of his talons, and a soft glow began to pulse from between them. “That also doesn’t mean that there have not been dragons who have used magic. We are, after all, creatures of innate magic. But become a wizard? Apply at a formal academy?” He shook his head. “Perhaps if fate led me that way. I merely find the study of magic interesting. And it gives me something to do and learn when not attending to my other duties.”

  His words made sense. Magic was a discipline of great effort, like any other, but to a being that was already infused with it . . . “Are you proficient at it?”

  “A bit. Nothing like your skill with strategy. Or with the sword. But I know more than a few spells. Many of them are simple, practical things, such as light, heat, or even taking away pain so that a healer can do their work. But I have tried my hand at more complicated spells. Or ones that are mostly useless. For example . . .” He held up his talons, and a moment later, without warning, his tan scales became a bright, vivid purple.

  “Hah!” The laugh was free of her before she had a chance to catch it, but there was no calling it back. “That’s incredible!” It was, but she also had to admit the shade of purple he’d chosen looked ridiculous. Thankfully, Dostoy was smiling as well.

  “Of limited use save amusement,” he said, his scales returning to their usual shade. “Or perhaps distraction. I’ve made some progress with illusion as well.” She blinked, and there were two Dostoys lying before her. Then the one to her left stood and began to grow, filling his half of the room. “But I can’t mix them with sound yet, nor maintain them very far,” the first Dostoy said as the second vanished.

  “Even so, I am impressed,” she said. “I’ve never had a chance to learn magic myself. What few wizards we’ve employed have been quite expensive and very secretive. Overly so, if you ask me.”

  “I agree,” Dostoy said, turning and motioning to the book lying at his desk. “Which was one reason why I purchased these books. It was far cheaper to learn on my own and make my own discoveries than to pay a wizard to teach me a few tricks. Thus, I gain understanding.”

  “Is there anything you’d like to do with it?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “As of yet, I am unsure. There are a myriad of uses detailed across the various tomes I have collected, and I m
ust admit some curiosity to various schools on my own part. Much of it is powerful magic, some of it is not, but . . .”

  “You are Dostoy the Mighty, after all.”

  “I prefer Dostoy, myself,” he said. “But true nonetheless, if only by my innate magical ability. Would you like to study here for a change of pace? I was in the middle of something, but—”

  “Yes.” If nothing else, reading magical theory would be interesting. “I’ll leave you to it. Where would you recommend I start if I wished to learn a little about magic?”

  “’Adricarle’s Treatise Magicka,’ on the second shelf,” Dostoy said, his tail pointing at the row in question. “It provides a thorough and mostly concise overview.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” The dragon returned to his study of his tome, and she in turn picked out the book he’d pointed her toward, heavy in her hands. A light spell would be useful. As would an illusion, or a spell that reduced pain. Her curiosity aroused, she sat down, her back against the wall, and began to read.

  Day Five

  It had taken until the third day for a potential suitor to show up. He’d been turned away by Dostoy without even reaching the Stakes table. To no one’s surprise, even the suitor, who admitted upon surrendering that he’d not expected much, but felt obligated to try. Not a strong start, not a strong suitor.

  The fourth saw the appearance of two more suitors, both of which had made it to the Stakes table before being soundly outmaneuvered by Dostoy. She had to admit, he was a very capable player with a clear talent for thinking ahead and trapping his opponents. Their nightly games had grown longer, though he’d yet to beat her. But it put a high requirement on those who came pursuing her.

  Thus far the fifth day had been silent. She set down the treatise she’d been reading, taking a brief break and glancing at the clock. Dostoy wasn’t there at the moment, having been called away to deal with something on one of the local farms, leaving her alone in the study. After the second day, she’d moved some of the spare chairs from her rooms down to the study to give her some additional seating options for when she wanted to read about magic.