The Bringer of War

Myrtle stood upon the castle walls, facing southward. A light breeze that did little to dispel the evening’s heat stirred her hair slightly. The moon was full and bright above, tinging her dark green gown with silver light. She cast her gaze downwards, looking past the sheer drop to the muck choked moat below.

Drakken strode up beside her, crossing his arms over his chest. He gazed out at the city, most of the houses dark at that hour, though the tavern district was brightly lit as always. The king noticed her fascination, and politely cleared his throat.

“It is a long way down,” he said “the water would not give as much as you might think. Your bones would be smashed to pulp.”

“It is a quick way to die,” said Myrtle, not turning her gaze from the moat.

She heard the ringing sound as Drakken drew his blade from its sheath. The cold metal pressed against her exposed spine, hard enough to draw blood.

“If you wish,” he said “I can run you through right now, and you would die even faster.”

Myrtle did not react except to turn her head slightly.

“I do not wish to die at this time,” she said.

“But you do wish to die,” said Drakken.

“Yes,” said Myrtle “but I do not know what death holds for me. The logical choice would be to keep living until I find out or lose patience.”

Drakken ran the blade down her back, nearly tearing her skin. It reached the seam of her dress inches above her waist. He severed the satin material easily, splitting the dress in two and exposing her to him. Roughly, he turned her about and yanked down on the garment until she stood naked before him in the moonlight. Myrtle made no sound, her eyes betraying no emotion as the king put his mouth upon her neck.

“I’ll melt your cold heart,” he said. Grabbing her by the waist, he lifted her hips until she sat on the crenelation behind her. There was a sheer drop of over seventy feet at her back. Drakken unlaced his trousers and took here there on the wall. He forced her to lean back as he entered her, causing her long blonde hair to trail down the stone.

A roar split the night. Drakken suddenly stopped his thrusting, gazed up at the sky with a look of pure elation on his face.

“She’s here!” he shouted jubilantly. He looked to Myrtle and grabbed her cheeks with both hands. “She is here!”

Myrtle raised an eyebrow, but Drakken extracted himself and moved away from her. He stared up into the starry sky and peered intently.

“Behold,” he said, pointing a knobby finger at the sky. Myrtle slipped back to her feet and looked where he pointed, not bothering to cover herself. A winged shape wheeled around the city, its size difficult to judge. Another roar escaped its toothy maw, and Drakken practically danced with delight.

“I must prepare her nest,” he said, rushing off towards the stairs. Myrtle blinked twice at him, then turned her unfeeling gaze back on the beast.

** *

She was close now, so very close to the source of the call. It screamed through her brain, demanding that she answer. There was another city below her, filled with men who screamed in fear at the sight of her. On instinct, she knew this fear to be both just and desirable. There was a long avenue leading to the biggest structure for miles, and it was from within that she felt the call emanate.

Diving, she dropped towards the strip, it being the only place she had room to land. When she was within fifty feet of slamming into the earth she spread her wings and slowed her descent. She landed on four limbs, using the claws in the center of her wings as feet. The impact shook any still slumbering from their rest, and she was mindful of the fearful shouts and cries ringing through the night.

Carefully folding the delicate wings back, she began walking towards the castle. Someone fired more of the painful but harmless sticks at her, which rang off her tough hide to land in broken pieces on the cobblestone avenue. She turned her head towards a group of men hastily reloading their cross bows. The dragon opened her maw wide, looming over them. The men screamed, wetting themselves as death closed in around them. Two of them disappeared entirely within the fetid maw, while one still had his upper torso visible. He screamed and pounded upon the scaly mouth holding him prisoner, until the dragon shook her head and his body was ripped in half. His upper half flew through the night and crashed into the window of one of the fancier houses.

The power of the call faded before something more primal, and sensation of hunger. Turning away from the castle, she began to wade through the buildings. The larger structures she slithered or climbed over, but the smaller ones she simply smashed to rubble. Any humans not quick enough or smart enough to run were snapped up in her bloody teeth and ground to paste.

More of the men with bows came against her, and she snarled in irritation as their sticks pounded against her scales. A few brave souls even charged forward and hacked at her feet with metal blades. One of the swords managed to find a bit of the delicate wing flesh, and tore a fist sized hole in it.

Enraged, the dragon lifted her foot into the air and brought it down upon the man. He screamed as his death approached, flinging his arm uselessly above himself in a feeble attempt to stop the onslaught. He was crushed against the cobblestone like an egg, his shell rent to pieces and yolk running all over the stone.

The dragon summoned the energy around itself, concentrating it in its chest without realizing what it was doing on a conscious level. A tremendous gout of blue flame erupted from its maw, burning men and buildings alike to ash.

She killed hundreds that night, soldiers and citizens alike disappearing into her belly. When nearly half the city was reduced to rubble, and the remaining half largely on fire, the Dragon at last felt its hunger sated. It would need the nourishment.

The call promised it would have a place to breed.

The dragon stopped before the drawbridge, curious about the strange device. It sniffed the wooden barrier, green scales on its nostrils twitching. It started when the bridge began to lower, and took a few cautious steps back. A lone human came striding over the bridge, holding up a golden rod covered with bright, polished stones. The smell of gold reached her nostrils, not just from the scepter but from the man. Her single yellow eye locked upon his gray ones, and the bond was forged. This was the one who had called her, who had made her come so far. He was the one who would give her a place to breed, to whelp the growing life within her.

** *

Drakken smiled as the Dragon padded heavily after him. He strode over to the great metal grate in the castle courtyard, once used to house a cistern in case of siege. Now it stood empty, the metal hasps open and stretched towards the sky. There was a vast pit now, so deep the bottom was not visible, would not have been even on a bright sunny day. Drakken laughed as his guards ran in fear from the dragon. Not until it had slipped down into the dark chasm did he notice Roland cowering behind a hitching post.

“Come, my friend,” said Drakken, beckoning the seneschal with his hand. “My queen has sated her hunger.”

Roland made his way across the courtyard, walking awkwardly as he had made a mess of his undergarments. He stood trembling before Drakken, eyes transfixed on the deep hole that the dragon had slithered into.

“What have we done?” said Roland, dropping to his knees. “What have we done? The city lies in ruins!”

“Yes,” said Drakken, dismissing the notion with his hand as if it were not significant “but we can always build it again.”

** *

Bruno and Crown stood on a hill overlooking Fort Drakken, the same hill he and Hector had stood upon many moons before. Their horses whinnied in fear as the city burned before them. A line of refugees had formed about a mile west, huddled together as they watched their homes go up in flames. Someone had made an effort to organize fire resistance, but they were sorely lacking in manpower. Much of the city blazed brightly, and would likely do so until it was ash.

“This is...” said Crown “this is wrong.”

“I am surprised you care, assassin,” said Bruno, though he was in too much in shock to put much venom in his words.

“I can handle a few deaths,” said Crown “particularly if they cause the machine that is the kingdom to run more smoothly. This...this senseless slaughter can serve no purpose, can bring only misery. Do you still wish to make for the hidden tunnels, or does this suffice as proof of Drakken’s madness?”

“I don’t know,” said Bruno, his mind reeling from the sight before him. “I think we should speak with the survivors, find out what they know.”

The two men spurred their mounts down the hill and angled for the refugee camp. At first they merely blended into the chaotic jumble of humanity. Some ran about screaming, some stood staring at the flames, eyes wide and pouring tears, while some sat in a heap and huddled.

There were those folk who had recovered their senses somewhat, and were trying to organize search parties for those still missing. One of them, a young Templar with an arm in a sling, noticed Bruno and his jaw fell wide.

“Sir Cromwell,” he said, forcing his way through the throng “Sir Cromwell!”

“Thaddeus,” said Bruno, his face splitting in a grim smile “I am glad to see that you number among the living.”

Crown cleared his throat, which made Bruno’s nose twitch in irritation.

“Thaddeus,” he said “it is not exactly my pleasure to introduce Crown, a killer for hire. Thaddeus was my first squire, and an honorable man.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” said Crown with a wink.

“What happened, sir Thaddues?” said Bruno.

“Part of me thinks my mind must be clouded by all those blows you rightly gave me in my youth,” said the young knight “but, Allfather help my eyes, I think it was a dragon. A monstrous dragon, its head rising higher than the rooftops...”

Thaddeus paused, looked to both men and narrowed his eyes.

“You are not surprised,” he said “not surprised at all.”

“No, Thaddeus,” said Bruno sadly “we are not. Go one, finish your tale, that I may begin mine.”

“It was a nightmare,” said Thaddeus “a dozen Templars fell before the wrath of its cursed flames before we were ordered by our superiors not to engage the beast but to aid in the evacuation.”

“That was likely wise,” said Bruno “go on.”

“There are witnesses who were brave or foolhardy enough to track the beast as it laid waste to our city,” said Thaddeus.

“I imagine that must have been fairly easy,” said Crown with a smirk.

Thaddeus frowned at him but kept speaking.

“They say Drakken came out and spoke to the dragon, charmed it somehow.” he said. “The beast crawled into the tunnels below the Castle and has not been seen since. Has the king gone mad?”

“So it would seem,” said Bruno “how many of our order remain?”

“Less than a score,” said Thaddeus “the town watch was even more decimated, as their masters were more willing to throw their lives away.”

“Tragic,” said Crown flippantly, which earned him a glare from both men.

“We need a strategy,” said Bruno “it appears as if we must fulfill the thirteenth duty, my former squire.”

“Truly?” said Thaddeus, his jaw going slack. “That has never been done, sir Bruno. Never.”

“Never has the capital been besieged by a giant dragon,” said Bruno “we must do our duty, sir Thaddeus. We must-”

Bruno stopped speaking as a great tumult began to drown him out. He looked past the mass of humanity, aided by his elevation on horseback. A crowd of refugees was shouting excitedly, making way for a stranger in dull black garb.

He was a big man, taller and stockier than Bruno. A bald pate shone in the torchlight, marred by the darkness of his felt eye patch. Nasty scars ran down the left half of his face, though the man’s mustache hid some of them. He gripped a spear of the same dull black metal as his breastplate. A bit of gold dyed fabric fluttered in the gentle breeze, affixed just below its sharpened metal tip.

“What’s all this, now?” said Crown, his curiosity piqued.

“It’s a dragon slayer!” shouted one man, cupping his hands around his mouth. “The Allfather has sent us a dragon slayer!”

“We are saved!” shouted a short woman in a pointed hat, though she did not seem to have as much enthusiasm. Indeed, she mouthed a silent ‘yay’ and rolled her eyes as the call was taken up by others.

Bruno spurred his horse towards the man, a scowl crossing his ebon features. He turned his mare sideways, blocking the procession’s path.

“Your kind is not welcome here,” said Bruno, eyes staring harshly down at Seamus.

“Bet that’s the first time he’s said that,” said Lobo, winking at Seamus.

“Hold your tongue,” said Seamus “that is the man we have been searching for.”

Seamus took a step forward and held his free arm out to engender relative silence from his supporters. He looked up to Bruno, then swept into a low bow.

“I am Seamus Dragonsbane,” he said “and I have come to kill the beast which destroyed your city. Are you the one called Sir Bruno Cromwell, also known as the Black Knight, hero of the-”

“Yes, yes,” said Bruno “we have no time for titles, and for Allfather’s sake, man, stop bowing I am no king. Do you know the nature of the beast you face?”

“Aye,” said Seamus grimly “you could say that. It took my brother and my eye in Port Gar. I managed to settle the score some...”

Seamus gestured to his eye.

“...but the beast escaped my wrath. I have traveled far to gain my vengeance, knight, and have no time for your posturing.”

“Dragon slayers are swindlers,” said Bruno “charlatans who take advantage of the gullible.”

“I know,” said Seamus, a look of guilt in his one eyed gaze “most of them are, but I am the real thing. This spear-”

He held it aloft.

“-may not look like much, but it has been forged to resist the Dragon’s blood and fire, and has been enchanted to sever its scales like parchment.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” said Stella ruefully.

“So name your price, then,” said Bruno with a grin “for you will never collect it, as your bones will lie scorched and blackened.”

“No price,” said Seamus, which caused both Lobo and Stella to protest. He ignored them completely. “I only ask that I be permitted to enter the castle and slay the monster.”

“Two warriors,” said Crown, his eyes lighting up “two tyrants....fate has provided us with an unexpected ally, my good knight! I can lead him skulking beneath the castle walls, while you-”

“While I confront Drakken on the surface,” said Bruno with a bit of a smile. “If one of us fails, the other may succeed. When Davros’s men arrive, we-”

“Duncan Davros?” said Seamus, causing both men to do a double-take. “I fear you will be waiting forever, as he has likely been slain along with his men.”

“No,” said Bruno, his face falling “it cannot be true. It cannot...”

“I fear he speaks truly, my lord,” said Hal, limping his way up to the front of the throng. He leaned heavily on the walking staff gripped in his knobby hands. “I rode with the rebels as chaplain. We were butchered by hooded killers who seemed to melt out of the shadows.”

Crown’s eyes went wide, and he coughed nervously, but the gesture was lost on those present.

“Duncan,” said Bruno, his lip trembling a bit “did I cause your death, old friend?”

“No time for guilt, sir Knight,” said Crown “we must act, and quickly. The people are stunned, in shock. It will take little to turn them against Drakken now.”

“Agreed,” said Bruno, hardening his heart and clenching his jaw “the time will come for mourning. Now is a time for action.”

“This is one of those moments,” said Lobo excitedly “one of those historical moments, and I am privy to it! Oh, the ballad this will make!”

“Hopefully,” said Seamus with a hint of a smile “it has a happy ending!”