Dragon Hunt

By John Cosper

It was the third night in a row Altaron woke to the sounds of his fellow villagers, shrieking and screaming. He leaped from under the bearskin blanket directly into the minotaur-hide boots and rushed for the door, grabbing his quiver and arrows along the way.

The entire village glowed from the newly set fires. Altaron turned in the direction of the heat and flames, fighting his way past screaming woman and children escaping the horror. As he navigated the dirt paths that criss-crossed his beloved village, his worst fears were confirmed.

"The orphans... not the orphans..."

The large hut on the south side was engulfed in a swirling fire. There were plenty of children streaming from the inferno, but the unmistakable smell of burning flesh told him there were more casualties this night.

"Up here, m'lord!" Altaron looked up and saw his best archers poised on top of the blacksmith's shop. Oresta, the village sheriff motioned for his master to join them. Altaron found the steps outside and ascended two at a time.

"Did you see it, Oresta?" Altaron asked.

"M'lord, we heard the foul beast, but no one saw. On my life, we were to a man awake and vigilant, yet the demon serpent evaded detection."

"You're certain it was a dragon?"

Oresta looked out at the devastation. A third of the village already lay blackened from two prior raids. "M'lord, aren't you?"

Altaron shook his head. "I'm afraid so."

The black sky of night gave way to blue. The orphanage and a dozen more buildings seemed to absorb the blackness out of the sky into their charred remnants. Altaron stood at the door of his house, held there by the entire remaining populace of town. No one doubted the dragon existed now. They were under siege, and action had to be taken.

"Where is the wise one?" Altaron shouted over the crowd. To his right, the crowd parted, and a lean, robed figure approached. "Elias, it appears you were right."

"For the sake of the people, I am glad you believe," said Elias. "How many more must die before you trust my word?"

"No more, Elias!" Altaron said with authority. "No more."

Elias stroked his soft beard. "You do not wish to consult the books then?"

"My father taught me to govern these people in wisdom and shrewdness," said Altaron. "The books are my guide in knowing that truth. The books tell me the nature of good and evil. They also tell me to heed the counsel of wise men."

Elias took Altaron's hand. The villagers roared their approval. They had believed Elias at the start. What else but a dragon would do such evil? Altaron now felt deeply ashamed his caution had cost the lives of so many dear to him. No longer.

"Elias, we need more of your counsel," Altaron said. "You will give me direction to the dragon's lair."

Elias bowed humbly. "I gratefully do my duty to the one who would deliver his people."

Altaron lifted his sword. "I call on all able-bodied men to join me on a quest to destroy the dragon."

The people cheered their approval once again. Men of the village lifted their weapons into the air. Just like his forefathers, Altaron would lead a mighty quest to save the village from the evil creatures of darkness.

By noon a feast was assembled for the brave warriors that would accompany Altaron on his quest to slay the dragon. Lamb, beef, pork, and vegetables of all kinds lined a table formed from the shattered remnants of the burned buildings, and families gathered to wish sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers well as they set out on the dangerous quest.

Elias, meanwhile, vanished into his hut, consulting his charts and scrolls to identify the most likely location of the dragon. Altaron stood through the feast, too anxious to sit. He kept an eye peeled on the door to Elias' hut, so eager to set off on his quest that he didn't hear the pleadings of his wife to hold out just a little longer.

"Altaron, please," she said. "I don't want to lose you!"

He looked at her, fierce resolve in his eyes. "I will not lose the village my family built."

They heard the cheers of Altaron's people as Elias emerged from the hut, a scroll on his hand. "M'lord, I have found the dragon!"

Altaron kissed his bride goodbye, then took the scroll from the wise man. With his two closest friends and warriors, he followed Elias into his hut, unrolling the map on a table.

Elias had already chosen the ideal path to the beast's lair. It was not an easy route, but Elias chose a path not for shortness, but optimum intercept potential. "If he attacks us again, he will have to cross paths with our brave savior," he told Altaron.

Altaron nodded. "Just show me where the journey ends."

Elias traced his hand over the map, through the Black Mountains, past the Swamp of Blood, and into the Valley of Doom.

"There, m'lord. The Cave of the Hellmouth. There is where you will find the creature."

Altaron clapped Elias on the back. "Protect my people, rule them justly in my absence."

Elias nodded. "'Tis a heavy burden, but I gratefully accept."

Outside his men were waiting for him, packs on their backs, as he emerged from the hut. Altaron's armor bearer brought him his own pack.

"My people!" Altaron shouted. "There comes a time when every king, lord, and master must prove his value. When he must be the servant of all. As surely as my fathers served you through their valor, I will not rest until the dragon that massacred my family lies dead!"

The people cheered. Altaron stepped off, beginning the journey that would make his name legend. His most trusted soldiers followed closely, then the other volunteers. Fifty in all - all but six archers and four horsemen - left the village that day.

They reached the Black Mountains by nightfall, and the journey became cruel. The first night, a flock of vampire bats took the lives of three men. The next day, a gang of trolls captured and ate Altaron's best friend, Matanu. Altaron himself led the raid on the trolls encampment, slaughtering the giant thugs and recovering what was left of Matanu for burial.

Still, the resolve of the band of warriors did not waiver. They crossed the Black Mountains in a week, and began the slow trek alongside the Swamp of Blood. Despite frequent encounters with the saber-tooth cats that lurked in the swamp trees, no one was lost. Each man kept one eye on the swamp, and the other on the skies.

Two weeks. No sign of the dragon. Every step brought them closer to their goal. The barren, black wastelands of the Valley of Doom seemed to stretch on forever. Disaster nearly struck one night when the brave warriors were attacked by a pack of spike-tailed lizards, but once more Altaron rallied his men and led them to escape on higher ground.

The Valley of Doom ended at the base of Mount Murtah. It was there Nehroo the scout noticed the stench.

"M'lord!" he cried out. "I smell the dragon's foul breath!"

Altaron drew his sword. "If there be any cowardice in this merry band, then turn back and leave us heroes to defend our village. To the death! Death to the dragon!"

"Long live Altaron!" the men shouted.

Altaron led his men up the narrow trail outlined in a sketch by Elias. Good Elias, every step was accurate. When they reached the mouth of the cave, the group split. The spear men took position to the left, right, and above the mouth. Archers prepared their strongbows and took position out of fire range. If the creature fled the cave, they would take him down.

Altaron led the second squad higher to a secret back entrance. The stench was almost unbearable here. They could hear the mighty creature moving about. Altaron motioned for silence, then led the group into the cave.

The warriors slid through the tiny tunnel, inching forward softly. If the dragon sensed their presence, one blast up the tunnel would roast them all. But Altaron made sure those with him were the most sure footed of his troop. They set foot on the dark rock in the cave, checking out the dank surroundings. One man gagged from the stench, but controlled himself.

Altaron led them into the cave. It was only a short distance in they saw the creature's mighty tail. Stealth was even more important now. Every footstep was taken carefully. Every movement slow. The beast snored on, unaware of its impending doom.

It was at that moment Altaron's armor bearer lost his footing and tripped.

The soldiers turned collectively to the young man as he staggered to his feet. By the time he was up, they knew they were in trouble. The snoring had stopped, and they could feel the bad breath on their backs. Slowly, they turned to face their doom.

"I say!" the creature spoke. "Visitors in my lair? And I haven't cleaned in weeks. This is intolerably embarrassing, I must say."

Altaron's hand froze on his sword. Was the dragon talking? Was he dead already and this was some derranged purgatory? The dragon made itself comfortable and went on.

"Did you all come in the back way? You must have, filthy as you are. I haven't dusted up there in ages. Why you all must be famished! Perhaps I can get you some refreshments? Food, drink, anyone?"

The men looked at Altaron, who looked back. He was the leader; he had to do something.

"Eh, are you, um, a talking dragon?"

The dragon laughed, a puff of fire escaping its nostrils gaily. "Of course I'm a talking dragon. All dragons talk. You were expecting a song and dance maybe? I can sing, but if I dance, it tends to create avalanches, and we wouldn't want that. Let me see."

The dragon turned to a high cliff in the cave and pulled down a large barrel. "Ah here we are. Mead from the court of Camelot, from the brewery of Merlin himself. I daresay you chaps have never had mead this good. Glasses are in the pile to your left."

The men looked and saw an immense stockpile of treasure, including many golden cups. They were parched, and a few started toward the cups.

"Hold your ground, men!" Altaron shouted. "Look, enough of this feigned hospitality. My name is Altaron!"

"How do you do? I'm Edna."

"And you burned my village!"

The dragon seemed incredibly offended. "Me? Why... burned a village? Oh my dear chap, you must be mistaken!"

"There is no mistake! More than half of my people died in fires that could only have been set by a winged serpent like you!"

Edna sighed. "My dear lord of the village, did you or your men ever see a dragon?"

"I saw 'im!" cried one soldier.

Edna raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that highly, dear boy. Beside if it was a him, it could certainly not have been a lady like me."

"Well," said the man. "Maybe it was a she."

"Oh come come now, you saw what you expected to see. Any time a town burns, the people automatically blame the dragons. Well, boys, this may come a shock to you, but we dragons have much better things to do than bug your lot."

"Such as?" said Altaron.

"Oh look, I'm not going to defend myself if I'm already convicted," Edna said. "You want to come to bloody blows, that's fine. I'll defend myself quite ably, but I'd rather do this without bloodshed."

"I'm afraid that's out of the question, beast!" Altaron's sword was out, gleaming. "We have traveled many miles, directed by the wise one Elias, to this very place so that you may perish for the deaths you--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lord Altaron," Edna said. "Elias? Elias the wise?"

"Yes," said Altaron.

"Handsome fellow, soft beard, wears a hood a lot?"

"Yes."

Edna giggled. "My stars, it would be him again. Boys, please sit. You're going to want to be seated for this tale."

"Stand your ground, men!" shouted Altaron.

"Suit yourself," said Edna. "It's not a long story. Elias has pulled this stunt with me before. He blows into town, does a fe magic tricks, wins the confidence of young monarchs and rulers, lads who just came to power and haven't gained much in the wisdom department. Once he's well established, he creates some crisis that sends the men off to defend the country. Meanwhile, he drags all the women and children off to his Castle in the Abyss and devours them."

An uneasy feeling crept into Altaron's gut. "You lie."

"Oh no," said Edna. "He's been at it for centuries. Same racket, though sometimes he blames vampires. Five times before, I've had armies like yours come to kill me. Those who paused long enough to hear my tale went home and found their families gone. Dreadfully sad, really."

"It's not true," said one old man. "Is it?"

"No," said Altaron. "The beast tells lies!"

"Why is that?" said Edna. "Because I'm different? I'm big, and ugly, and smell bad to your feeble nostrils? Oh dear lord of the village, did you not consult the ancient texts before running off to do Elias' bidding?"

All eyes were on Altaron now. "I had all the evidence I needed."

"You were in a rush to do justice," said Edna. "No one can blame you. The people were frightened, and here's this handsome devil whispering in your ear. 'It's the dragon! The dragon! Gotta slay the dragon.' Yet even a cursory glance at the ancient wisdom would tell you the devil is hardly ever the fierce, hideous monster. He's an angel."

Altaron knew it to be true. So many times had his father had warned him, "When two offer counsel, listen with your mind, not your eyes." Of course until this moment, Altaron chalked the proverb up to his father's senility, proving just how little he knew about listening intelligently.

Elias was handsome. Elias was smooth. Elias was even now devouring the flesh of his own kin.

"We could ride home, m'lord!" one young warrior said. "Swift as the wind, we can stop him."

"He's long gone by now, boys," said Edna. "My advice? Move on, find another country. Marry well. And if you see the face of an angel again, kill him a lot."

With that advice the warriors made their way out of the cave, walking out the front. Edna waved to them. "Toodle loo, Altaron. You and your brave band are welcome any time. It gets lonely up here!"

To a man the group agreed to return home. The village was decimated, burned to ash, and their families vanished. Most chose to move on, to start fresh in new places. Altaron's armor bearer even encountered Elias in his journeys... and found himself on the business end of a knife when he dropped his guard for a split second.

Altaron and the few who remained rebuilt their village. They married again, raised children, and lived quite happily for many years until a flock of fire-breating bunnies descended on the town.

But that is another story for another day.

Copyright 2006 by John Cosper