Every instinct in Gill screamed for him to take advantage of the momentary reprieve, but he was so embedded in the ground that he was stuck. He had to use nearly all of what little energy he had left to push himself out of the man print the dragon had created. When the ground finally released him, Gill scrambled away, then turned to face his foe. The big red beast stood looking at him intently. For an insane moment, Gill thought it looked familiar. He narrowed his eyes as he searched for recognition, but it was too bizarre a notion, no matter how uncanny it seemed. He got to his feet and readied himself for the next exchange.
“Put down your blade, Guillot.”
It took everything that Gill had to not drop his sword in shock. His brains felt scrambled from all the tumbling about—had he imagined the voice?
“Put it down.”
No, he hadn’t. He held the sword out before him, and shook his head resolutely. He couldn’t believe he was considering answering this creature.
“Enough of your kind have died,” the dragon said. “Enough of mine too. Put down your sword and we can settle this without violence.”
Gill’s immediate reaction was indignation. This creature was no different than the one that had destroyed Villerauvais. No different than the one that had killed Beausoleil. Or was it? He remembered how peaceful the golden dragon had looked when he’d first spotted it, knew this one could have killed him with ease had it chosen to. Instead, it had released him. Why? He wanted to find out. He lowered his sword.
“On the ground,” the dragon said. “Over there.”
The Cup’s effects had worn off. This beast could kill him easily, sword in hand or not. Gill shrugged and tossed it to the side.
“Good,” the dragon said. “A moment, if you would?”
Gill nodded, and the dragon started getting smaller. At first Gill thought he might have been right about the head injury. Then he realised it was not just getting smaller—it was changing shape. Soon it started to resemble a human. A human that Gill recognised.
“François?” he said. He felt a flash of anger. This man had killed Barnot and stolen the Cup. Gill’s eyes flicked to his sword and he wondered if he could get to it, and then to the beast, before it was able to revert to its dragon form. If it had wanted him to drop his sword, that meant it was vulnerable in this state.
“I apologise for my deception,” the dragon said. “My name is Pharadon.”
“You murdered my friend, Pharadon,” Gill said.
Pharadon’s brow furrowed. Gill found it hard to believe that only moments before he had been an enormous red dragon.
“I did no harm to anyone,” Pharadon said. “Which of your friends was killed?”
“Barnot. The bald one.” It occurred to Gill that Pharadon was naked. He did his best to avert his gaze.
Pharadon shook his head. “Both of your friends were still in the tavern when I departed. Both alive.”
“You expect me to believe you?”
“Yes. You still live, do you not? Do you think it would be difficult for me to end you if I so chose?”
It was reasonable logic, but Gill was confused. Pharadon might have killed Barnot in self-defence after he was caught stealing the Cup.
“The Cup,” Gill said. “Why did you take it?”
Pharadon shook his head. “It seems you have suffered some misfortunes recently, but you are very much mistaken in attributing them to me. I met with you because I wanted to understand you before I decided what to do. I chose not to kill you.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Gill said. “But those of your kind that I’ve met haven’t fared so well.”
Pharadon laughed. “Dragonkind are not so different to humans. You can meet all sorts. Some better than others. Things were not looking so good for you only moments ago. That should inform you on where I lie on that scale.”
“What’s this all about?” Gill said.
“You’re a dragonslayer. What your people call a ‘Chevalier.’ As best I can tell you’re the only one, and thus the only one who poses a real threat to my kind. I want you to stop.”
“Why not just kill me?”
“I had intended to, until we spoke, and I learned of your loss and your motivation. More killing won’t make things better for either of us.”
“Your kind have been doing most of the killing,” Gill said.
“Indeed. As with your race, there are good and bad amongst mine. This goldscale has the potential to be good. I like to think that I do also. Leave us be, and we will do the same for you.”
“If I disagree?”
“I’ll kill you where you stand. I can smell that you have lost your magic. I suspect you know what that means as well as I do. If you choose to fight me, you will die.”
As a younger man, Gill would have laughed in Pharadon’s face, a display of defiance and bravado that would show how unimpressed he was. However, there was neither boast nor threat in what Pharadon had said. It was merely a statement of what would come to pass.
“What now, then?” Gill said.
“I’ll take this goldscale deep into the mountains and we will never be seen again.”
“What if there are more dragons?”
“A possibility,” Pharadon said. “I will make it my duty to shepherd them into the mountains, far from where any humans dwell. There are many places on this world that are unknown to your kind. There is space for all and no need for conflict.”
“And if you miss one?”
Pharadon shrugged. The gesture looked awkward—a movement copied from observation, not generated by emotion. “I don’t have all the answers. If there are more dragons, some conflict might occur, but on this day, that is not necessary.”
Gill felt there was more he should be saying. He had never been party to the negotiations that had ended any of the wars he had fought in; he now wondered if this was what it had felt like for the people on the weaker side of the table. Should he ask for something in return for agreeing? He couldn’t think of anything.
“How is it that you can speak?” he said. None of the other dragons he had fought had shown any sign of being able to. He found it incredibly unsettling. A terrifying beast was bad enough. One that could speak and think was so much worse.
Pharadon laughed. “How is it that you can speak? Dragonkind were already old when your kind had their first reasoned thought. There were creatures and races before us capable of the same, and I’m sure there will be more after we have all passed from the world. None of us are unique, it is only our experience of life that is special, and that is what I wish to preserve.”
A point of view like that was hard to argue against. What more was there for Gill to say?
“You won’t be seen again?”
The dragon shook his head. Again, the movement looked somehow unnatural, unnerving. Gill wondered if it would look more normal in dragon form. “Any travel we need to undertake in the realm of humans, we will do at night. We won’t be seen, and soon enough, we’ll be far from here.”
“Then I … I agree to your terms.”
Pharadon smiled and nodded. The gesture was short, led by his chin, and seemed as artificial as all the others.
“I wish you well,” Pharadon said.
“I’ll be on my way then,” Gill said.
Pharadon nodded again, still smiling. It was an awkward moment. Gill hadn’t had the chance to look around for his horse, but chasing after it like an idiot while an ancient dragon disguised as a naked man watched was not an activity he could muster any enthusiasm for. He looked about and whistled. The horse owed him no great loyalty, and with the golden dragon still ambling about near the trees, Gill didn’t expect it to respond. It did, however. Feeling relieved, Gill collected his sword and mounted. With no idea of what more to say, he gave Pharadon a salute and rode for Venne.