We Fight Dragons (Volume 1, Chapter 1) 'A long time ago...'
Georgius Cappadocia rode unarmoured and uneasy. High above, Draco Magnus stalked him from behind the clouds.
This strange green land in the west was the opposite of everything that the Dragon stood for. Where the Dragon brought fire, the land brought forth cool rains. While the Dragon sought to dominate the land, the land and everything in it exploded with vitality and growth.
Georgius liked this land despite its climate and the lack of sophistication. He had seen courts in the east that put the rough towers of the land’s lords to shame, but the people of the land were warm and welcoming and held him neither in high nor low regard, which was a refreshing change from the courtly and religious politics he had endured.
A large shadow crossed the path, and his horse shivered fiercely.
‘Easy, Charlemagne. The beast is revealing itself to test our nerve. That is all. Don’t be afraid.’
As the horse calmed, the knight clutched a blackened copper amulet which hung around his neck, and if anyone was watching they would think he was praying. The clouds above grew thicker and darker, omens of heavy rain.
A loud screech rolled across the clouds. Like thunder, but malevolent and full of evil intent.
‘You don’t like the rain, do you, beast.’ Georgius knew that Dragons preferred fire and heat, to rain and cold. ‘You don’t want to attack now. But you see from my path that I know where your lair is. Tell me, what awaits there? Have you been busy hatching a new brood?’
Georgius spoke as if the Dragon could hear him, because he was sure that with its other-worldly keen senses it could.
Rider and horse approached the base of a wooded hill. Georgius knew that the lair was somewhere within, probably reached by some cleft in the rocks. This was an ancient land, and it had many sanctuary’s where ancient folk had once dwelled, before the ‘people of the eagle’ had driven them out. Sanctuaries that a Dragon could find refuge in.
He drew his heavy iron sword, with wound-copper grip. He nudged Charlemagne forward with his knees, as he clutched the amulet and increased the intensity of his prayers.
The first attack came out of the bushes on his left. A farmer with a pitchfork, his eyes focused to the point of madness as he attacked. Georgius easily parried the thrust aside, and turned his full attention on the madman.
‘Potestas.’ He commanded.
At the sound of the word the maddened farmer staggered and fell to his knees. He clutched his skull like there was a war going on inside it, which there was. As this happened, Georgius scanned the hillside for more attackers, and saw a bowman drawing to fire from behind a moss-spattered boulder. Without hesitation he urged Charlemagne forward, steering from left to right using the stirrups, to foil the bowman’s aim.
‘Potestas.’ He commanded again when he was so close that he could see the white’s of the bowman’s eyes.
Instead of falling to the ground, the bowman shrugged the word off as if it were a physical blow, and responded with a growl that stretched the vibration of his throat to an unnatural degree. Just before Georgius reached him, the bowman tossed his weapon to the ground and showed a pair of empty hands in surrender.
The bowman’s voice crackled inhumanly. ‘Sun-slave! I’ll tear you apart at the joints and feed you to my spawn. Or will you kill an unarmed man?’
Georgius almost relented. He had not expected such exertion of control from the Dragon over its victims. Either it had been working its evil on these people for longer than he thought, or it had grown more powerful than he’d expected.
It was a trap, of course, designed to unhorse him. But he had no intention of stopping to exorcise the man and leave his back exposed. He rode Charlemagne right over the bowman, toppling him like a twig in a storm. He prayed that the man was not killed, and promised to aid him as soon as the fight was over.
Without pause he pushed his horse on towards a cluster of boulders that he could see at the top of the hill.
‘Feed me to your spawn, eh? I wasn’t sure, but now I owe you thanks, for naming my targets,’ he taunted the beast.
His horse, which had been nervous, suddenly stopped its shivering, which gave away what was about to happen next. The cessation of something that only his horse could hear, meant that it was attacking.
Georgius could use the horse as bait, but Charlemagne had been faithful and the stallion trusted him. He owed the animal more than to die like that. He dug in his spurs and pulled the reins hard to the right. The horse spun at the shock of the sharp metal spurs and bolted, and Georgius leapt off nimbly, ready to fight.
An unseen force like a veritable mountain slammed into the ground where they had just been, sending leaves and dirt flying everywhere, briefly outlining the invisible, snarling bulk of Draco Magnus.
Both combatants used the moment to recover. Swirling leaves continued to rebound off the hide of the beast, showing Georgius where it was, as he gripped his sword in one hand and readied to attack.
‘Friend,’ spoke the Dragon gently, attempting to sway or distract him.
‘No!’ Georgius spat back, denying its words even as they tried to worm into his thoughts. ‘No friends here. You ended entire villages before I had even heard of you, and have driven more than that mad and insane. Speak your final words beast, but ‘friend’ is not one of them.’
The Dragon coiled and shifted, and its silvered voice sounded like the finest courtesan from the east. ‘Why do you care? Who were they to you?’
‘To themselves, to their families, each one was a world that you destroyed, a future that you ended.’ Georgius showed hesitation, for just a moment. Maybe he had to know if there was more to the beast. ‘So I will ask you… in turn... why?’
The Dragon paused its roiling as if considering the question carefully, and it answered lazily. ‘Freedom… and I am most free when I destroy them… I would rather exquisite freedom… even more than the joy of domination… do these ideas surprise you?’
‘No, beast. Not from you, they do not surprise. However, they did buy me time.’
The Dragon roared as it understood that Georgius had kept praying under his breath while it had been considering and lauding its own nature. The clouds that had been gathering above were now swirling and rumbling. A splattering rain started to fall, outlining the Dragon’s invisible bulk.
Angered, the Dragon leapt forward, a barely perceptible outline of teeth and claws. Georgius smelled its putrid breath, as he ducked below its snatching jaws and jammed his sword with all his substantial might into its chest, between its front legs.
As the Dragon reared up in pain, Georgius rolled and scrambled away and behind a tree, before the monster’s bulk came back down, crushing where he had just been, which drove the blade deeper, causing more frothing anguish.
‘Aaaaargh!’ The Dragon’s scream tried to cut into Georgius’ mind, both threatening and imploring at the same time. Its voice was no longer smooth and warm, but cold and menacing. ‘That was ill-done, Knight. You once stood some small chance… but now you are unarmed… and doomed.’
Georgius ignored the threats, clutched his amulet tightly, and whispered a prayer that melded into the sound of the leaves rushing around them. He focused inward, ignoring the Dragon was its looped its head around the tree and opened wide enough to devour him whole.
In that instant the storm broke. A bolt of lightning rocketed down from the sky, seeking out its favourite partner, the iron in the sword with the copper handle. It travelled through the Dragon, paralysing it mid-lunge. Georgius could see its outline fully now as sparks flew off its scales, showering him and falling on the wet ground.
The lightning lingered in the air, like a thing savouring the justice that it delivered, before flashing out in an instant. As the Dragon fell its body disintegrated into black mist on the wind before it hit the ground. Then all was quiet.
There was a charred hole in the ground where the Dragon had stood, and the now darkened sword that lay in the hollow. Cautiously, and using layers of his damp clothing, Georgius took up his sword and inspected the blade for fractures, thankfully finding none.
After gathering Charlemagne he recalled the bowman who he had run down, but the man was gone, which meant that at least he was alive, and now free of the Dragon’s control.
The last thing to do was to go inside the hill, and destroy the monster’s spawn. It was not something he relished or looked forward to, but it was absolutely necessary. He found the entrance where the earth had been delicately scrapped away by the beast as it had wormed in and out over time.
Inside he went, with a flaming torch lighting his way, and in the depths of the hill he found a dozen slumbering eggs, which he dispatched as mercifully as possible, turning each into a dark mist that clouded the air before it dispersed.
When the grisly task was done, and he was turning to leave, he spotted something in the darkness that drew his interest. At first he thought it was the remains of a leather helm or jerkin, perhaps a wineskin, but the light of the lantern confirmed his greatest fear.
It was an egg. Hatched. And the spawn had already left the nest. It would be small and weak now, but even as a Knight he had no way to find it.
He had longed to return east, back to his warm and softly remembered homeland, but now his quest remained unfulfilled. He could not leave this place, this green land that had welcomed him. Instead, he was forced to remain. A prisoner of his own vows, more than any geography.
Back outside the hill, he mounted his horse and rode slowly back to the village that he had passed on his way here.
.