“Aye, that I have.”
The man sighed in relief. Soon twenty people gathered around, patting Kresean on the back and shaking his hand.
“Chandael’s still gone looking for help,” the big man said. “We didn’t know if he had found anyone.”
“Well, he found me. Sir Kresean Myrk Saxus at your service.”
Dayn blinked. Sir Kresean? He wasn’t a Knight.
Kresean’s smile faded into a serious look. “The drag-on-has anyone seen it again?”
“No, sir,” the man admitted. “No one has seen it yet, but we’ve followed its tracks, and the way it takes apart a sheep is a terrible thing to see.”
The villagers nodded their heads.
“We’ve gone out looking for it but only in large groups. It hasn’t shown its face. We thought one man might succeed where many would fail. I would try it myself, of course, but I haven’t even got a sword.”
“Of course,” Kresean said, careful not to hurt the man’s feelings. “No one expects you to slay a dragon anymore than you’d expect a soldier to know how to plant a field.”
The man nodded and seemed to feel better.
“More animals were lost again this week. Soon we shall all be forced to seek our livelihoods elsewhere. Our poor village barely has enough trade to survive as it is.
And with poor Kindy’s loss. . We fear more for the safety of our children with every day that passes.” The man’s gaze drifted to the ground.
“Do you think you can help us?” A woman broke from the throng and headed for Kresean. He turned to her and took her hand in his.
“What is your name, good woman?” he asked.
“Cessa. I have two daughters. I’m afraid to send them to herd the sheep. Yet if no one is there to watch them, we might lose the entire flock.”
Kresean patted her hand. “Cessa, tomorrow at first light my comrade and I will find this rascal and liberate him of his head. I shall bring it back as proof, and you can do with it as you see fit.”
A flicker of a smile crossed the woman’s face, and a murmur went through the crowd.
“Thank you, kind sir. Thank you. The gods must have sent you.”
They were given a room that night in Chandael’s loft, which doubled as an inn for what travelers managed to find themselves in Feergu. Dayn couldn’t sleep, but Kresean’s light snores assured him that everything was going to be all right. He meant to ask the warrior about calling himself a Knight. Probably that was another practical necessity. The man was everything Dayn could’ve asked for in a hero. The bard finally drifted off to sleep, dreaming of shining armies and huge banquet halls in which to sing his ballad.
The next day Dayn and Kresean bade goodby to the villagers and rode west toward the dragon’s lair. Heavy mist rode alongside them. Moisture clung to Dayn’s skin like wet fingers. The mountain’s bulk was a palpable presence before them. Everything seemed unreal to Dayn.
At the beginning of the ride, Kresean had been strangely pensive. If ever there was a time to talk of past war stories or to delineate a plan to fight the dragon, now was that time, but as they left the town, Kresean said nothing.
He’s mentally preparing himself, Dayn thought. Best to leave him alone.
The entire ride passed in silence. Finally they came to the river ford where the people had lost the beast’s tracks. Farther upstream the valley narrowed into a steep canyon with many caves along the water’s edge, where the people suspected the dragon kept its lair.
“If this is the ford, then we’re almost there.” Dayn smiled at his companion. Kresean grinned back.
“We’ll have this rascal’s head stuffed in a sack before lunch.”
The two crossed the river and crept up the rocky hill on the far side. The ground sloped down gently until it neared the water and dropped off into a sheer cliff. Dayn started to walk along the edge of the cliff. Below was a series of caves. There were half a dozen small openings, their mouths near the water. Among the rocks below, Dayn spotted some scattered bones. The remains were covered with tufts of bloody wool.
“Ah ha!” Kresean whispered and pulled back from the edge. Dayn did the same.
“Looks like this is it, lad.”
“We found his lair,” Dayn whispered excitedly. He could barely contain his excitement. “Do you think it’s in there?”
Kresean nodded. “I do. Let’s think a moment.”
“Yes,” Dayn said. “So, do we go in after it right away? Or lure it out?”
“Easy, lad. Not so fast. We wait.”
“Wait?”
“Best to be prudent to start. Let’s see the size of the thing first, then we can make our plan.”
“Oh,” Dayn said. “Okay.”
They settled in to watch the cave’s opening.
When half the day had passed, Dayn thought he was going to die of boredom. He had long ago given up lying next to Kresean and staring at the cave. Instead, he paced back and forth. A short while after Dayn had become bored, so had Kresean. Instead of keeping vigil on the cave, he had unpocketed some game stones and was tossing them in a patch of dirt he had smoothed. He seemed completely unconcerned. He’d invited Dayn to join a few times, but the bard wanted to get on with the adventure. This wasn’t what Dayn had in mind when he thought of dragon hunting. Shouldn’t the whole process move a little faster? Perhaps he was being impractical again. Certainly Kresean knew what he was doing. Still. .
Dayn didn’t want to follow that thought, but happily he was interrupted by Kresean.
“It’s finally moving,” the warrior said calmly. Dayn turned around and could hear the scraping sound. Kresean pocketed his stones and moved quietly over to the edge of the cliff.
Dayn flopped on his belly and stared down at the empty cave mouth. At first, he didn’t see anything, but soon he heard a scraping below. It was coming closer.
“What now?” Dayn whispered tensely. “Do we ambush it? Don’t you need to be closer? Are you going to stab it as soon as it comes out?”
“Just wait, lad.”
Clamping down on his excitement, Dayn waited. He envisioned the beast bursting from its lair, unfurling its wings, and leaping for the sky. A reptilian battle cry would wail forth. Excess moisture would spray from its wing tips like deadly diamonds. It would turn its burning eyes upon the pair of heroes on the top of the cliff and-
The dreaded dragon lumbered out of the cave.
Dayn’s excitement melted like a chunk of butter thrown on a fire. He let out his pent-up breath.
“That’s the dragon?” he exclaimed.
Kresean was smiling. “Dragon enough for me, lad.”
Dayn whipped his head about. “What?” He looked back down at the creature. He wasn’t an expert on dragons, to be sure. He would be the first to admit it. However, he had heard tales of the fearsome beasts. He knew about dragonfear scattering entire armies. He knew that dragon fire could destroy a stone tower with one blast, that dragon lightning could blow the tops off of mountains. One shriek from a dragon could freeze a person’s blood. Dragons were filled with magical might and fierce intelligence. Dragons were green, black, red, blue, copper, and gold and so on. This one was the color of mud.
It was no bigger than his mare. It looked like nothing more than a lizard-a very big lizard, true, but a lizard nonetheless. Whatever that thing was, it was not a dragon.
The reptile was moving with the lethargy of a cow. It was close to seven feet long, counting the tail, but never a dragon!
“Are you kidding?” Dayn asked.
“No,” Kresean replied.
“But that’s not a dragon!”
“It is to them, lad. That’s all that matters. We’re here to take care of their dragon. That’s their dragon. Let’s take care of it.”
Dayn sighed and crouched next to the ledge. He looked disconsolately down at the giant lizard. How was he going to make a ballad out of this? Why hadn’t some villager come and poked a spear into that hapless thing long before?
Dayn cleared his throat, lightly. “Well, go lop its head off, and let’s get back.”