A Deal with a Dragon
"My, aren't we a cheerful company tonight", Pete said, idly plucking the strings of his lute. "Should I sing a dirge, perhaps? Something appropriate for a funeral?"
"Oh, shut up." Kelmos stared morosely into the campfire. "I always knew that bards meant trouble, and look where we are. I must have been mad to set out with not one, but two of them."
"Just a moment", Iolo interrupted hotly. "If I hadn't got us out of that blasted labyrinth, we'd still be sitting down there admiring a statue of Franco." He shot a venomous look at the thief. "I'd gladly have left him standing there looking decorative, if he hadn't picked up the key to the only exit just before he went and got himself petrified."
"Good for me I did, then", Franco yawned, unperturbed. They'd had this same argument every night running for almost two weeks now, and he'd lost interest about the second or third time around.
"Yes, but did you have to go and ask your god to get us out?" Kelmos shook his head. "Granted, it was dramatic and might look good in a ballad, but did you really have to promise him you'd do everything he asked of you in return?" The mage picked up a branch and threw it onto the fire, sending up a cloud of sparks.
Iolo sniffed. "If you ask a favour of a god, you don't haggle. We were lucky he listened to me at all."
"Lucky..." Kelmos snorted. "Sure, we're lucky to be ordered to fetch an amulet from a dragon's hoard. Piece of cake, really, and probably it will make a good song, too."
"What is a dragon?" Ulwamnar asked haltingly. He was learning remarkably fast, but his grasp of the northern languages was still somewhat limited. He had been a slave to a merchant from very far south, and his master had made the mistake of journeying to the northern parts of the continent on business. There he had been waylaid by bandits, who had freed Ulwamnar along with the rest of the merchant's possessions. The outlaws hadn't really known what to do with him, and his black skin and strange speech had irritated them, so they had been glad when some wandering fools, pardon, adventurers, had offered him to tag along, on the off chance that they might one day travel south. Already he could complain fluently about the cold weather, but the finer points of conversation were still sometimes beyond him.
"Don't they have dragons where you come from?" Pete asked. Ulwamnar merely shrugged.
"A dragon", Kelmos explained, "is a really big lizard, which may or may not breathe fire to roast you before it eats you. Unwholesome beasts, and sensible people avoid them."
"That is a very interesting characterisation", said the dragon.
"Pffrrrtt..." Iolo sputtered, spewing mead into the campfire. Which really was a shameful waste, for it had been very good mead.
"Argh", Kelmos remarked, and fainted.
Pete put down his lute and stared, as did the others. "Now where did you come from?" he asked. Not a very intelligent question perhaps, but compared to his companions' contributions it was definitely an improvement.
The dragon blinked. "Why, I was just out to get my dinner, of course." It grinned amiably at them, displaying two rows of rather impressive teeth.
Pete swallowed. "I hope you enjoyed your meal", he said weakly.
"Meaning that you hope I already had one", the dragon translated. "I did, in fact. I was just taking my after dinner nap when I couldn't help overhearing your very interesting conversation." It settled down comfortably. "Well, I'm all ears. Tell me about this dragon's hoard you mean to rob."
Things were definitely going downhill, Pete decided. But then, there was no one like a bard to talk one out of a tight spot. Since Iolo was still trying not to choke on his mead, that honourable office obviously fell to him. He drew himself erect. "This is a rather long story, but since the noble race of dragons is so famed for their patience, I'm sure you will bear with me", he began.
Franco groaned softly and reached for the flask Iolo had dropped. Knowing Pete and his liking for drama, this would take a while, and there was no sense in wasting perfectly good mead just because one might get eaten later on. He took a healthy swallow and prepared for a long night.
*****
"... and so you see, your Excellency, that it is really not our desire to rob you of your well earned riches, but of course we must obey the divine command to bring this amulet to the sacred temple of Dwyllan." Pete was really proud of this ending and let out a long breath.
Kelmos, who had come around about halfway through the story, looked as though he was still amazed at being in one piece. Franco was snoring softly beside the fire, the now empty flask clutched to his chest. Iolo was sulking, because technically it had been his story, and he felt that Pete should have let him tell it. And Ulwamnar studied the dragon with avid and obviously unperturbed interest.
The dragon stretched. "A fine story, and nicely told", it said approvingly. "Whether or not it is true you know best, I'm sure. So you say that all you want from my hoard is this amulet?" Pete nodded. "Hmm..." the dragon growled and fell silent for a while. Finally it let its gaze wander thoughtfully over every member of the company. "Perhaps we might work out some compromise..." it mused. "Yes, it may be worth a try."
The companions exchanged puzzled looks. A deal with a dragon? Who had ever heard of that? Most of the stories agreed that the only business dragons had with humans concerned breakfast, lunch and dinner, not necessarily in that order.
"And what sort of compromise were you thinking of?" Iolo inquired cautiously.
The dragon sighed. "The usual sort - you help me, I help you. Which part of that don't you understand?"
"Um... we help you?" Kelmos asked, startled. "What could we possibly do that you cannot?"
The dragon sighed again. "Let me explain. My cave is not far from here, up in the mountains. It's a good place to live, because there's a village of your people in the valley below, and they breed really delicious sheep." The dragon licked its lips with a forked tongue. Kelmos paled and looked as though he might pass out again any moment. "Of course, being human, they want to keep everything for themselves, and they don't like me helping myself to one or two of their sheep every now and then. So from time to time they gang up, arm themselves with their torches and pitchforks and come up to my cave to kill me. Then they generally spend the next fifty years or so trying to regrow their male population." The dragon shook its head regretfully. "Tedious, really, but people never learn. And I'm afraid it's almost time for the next expedition of this sort. But this time, it's a little different. Because", a proud glimmer entered into the huge eyes, "because I have laid an egg."
Pete took the revelation in stride and sketched an elegant bow. "A true bard is always at a lady's service. Tell me what we might do for you, madam, and consider it done."
The dragon nodded approvingly. "Well spoken. What you might do for me is get these idiots to leave me in peace. They might listen to humans, they sure as anything won't listen to me. And this time I can't have a mob of peasants come trampling around my cave. They might damage the egg."
"Umm, excuse me..." Kelmos frowned. "I mean, this may sound a bit harsh, but from everything I've heard about dragons..." The dragon eyed him with interest, and too late he became aware that he had ventured onto very thin ice. "Well, no offence intended, your Ladyship, but..."
"Why don't I just go down there and flatten the whole village, to be done with it once and for all, in true dragon style?" the dragon finished for him. Kelmos nodded embarrassedly and wished he had kept his mouth shut.
"Simple", the dragon said. "You humans are always so hasty and never think about consequences. If I killed these people, who would breed the sheep for me? And when my young one is hatched, he will need to eat, too. Besides, if I just go and burn down a village, the king might decide to send some knights to deal with me. And I can't abide knights. Those lances stick in one's teeth forever." She looked at them. "So, the bargain is this: see to it that these people leave me in peace, preferably for good, and I'll give you the amulet you want. Simple, really."
The companions exchanged a quick look. It wasn't really as if they had any choice. Iolo, not to be outdone by Pete, bowed. "Mylady, we'll do our humble best."
"Well, I hope your best isn't too humble", the dragon murmured. "Now, if you'll pack your belongings, you'll have the singular honour of riding with me to my cave."
*****
"So this is a dragon cave." Pete looked around curiously.
"The stories don't do it justice", Kelmos remarked tartly. He was cold, tired, and still generally disgruntled, although the prospect of not being eaten immediately had lightened his mood somewhat.
Indeed the cave, or at least the part of it that the companions were allowed to enter, was bare and uninteresting. There was just rock, sand, and a regrettable absence of anything remotely resembling treasure.
Franco coughed. He had insisted on sitting up front during the flight, claiming that he wanted a good look. Unfortunately, it being dark, he hadn't got a better look than anyone else but instead had managed to catch a cold.
Iolo stifled a yawn. "It's late, and I expect we are all tired. Why don't we call it a day, and start making plans first thing tomorrow?" The suggestion met with approval throughout, and shortly afterwards the only sounds in the cave were snores in various keys and Franco's sneezes.
*****
"What we need", Pete stated the next morning, "is a plan."
A cough came from the back of the cave.
"What we need is a healer", Kelmos corrected. "He's got a fever, and I don't have the herbs to treat him."
Ulwamnar came over to the others and sat down. "I have looked at him, but I don't have cure. Need herbs, and don't know what grows here." He shrugged apologetically and helped himself to some breakfast.
"All right", Iolo said. "Let's think this through logically."
Kelmos raised an eyebrow. "What an interesting approach. And a completely novel one in this company."
The bard ignored him. "We must convince the peasants to leave the dragon alone", he murmured thoughtfully. "What would it take peasants to tolerate, or better still, to be glad for the presence of a dragon?"
"Simple", Pete shrugged. "A threat that's even greater. Something the dragon protects them from."
"Hm..." Iolo frowned. "What would frighten people more than a dragon?"
"Evil spirits", Ulwamnar said unexpectedly. "Demons. Everybody fears them."
Pete looked at the southerner, then at Kelmos, and slowly a broad grin spread across his face. "You know, my friend...", he said. "You just gave me an idea. Now, how about this..."
*****
"Mylady, we need your help." Pete bowed low before the dragon. "We have just devised a plan to keep the villagers from attacking you, and indeed to render them eternally grateful to you. If this works out as we intend, you won't need to take their sheep from them. They will bring them to you, and gladly."
"What an intriguing thought", the dragon said. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
Pete grinned. "A little charade, and we need you to play along with it." He looked at her with perfectly calculated admiration. "I'm sure Mylady is a brilliant actress."
She actually fluttered her eyelids at him. "If you think so", she said. "Assign me my part, then."
*****
"Greetings, good people", Iolo said amiably as they approached a group of three men who were having a chat on the village's main (and only) street. It had been decided that Ulwamnar should stay with Franco in the cave, since his unusual looks would probably have scared the people. Iolo, Pete and Kelmos were trying to look their innocent best.
The three peasants stopped their conversation and turned to study the newcomers. After a minute or two of careful scrutiny, the oldest among the villagers obviously decided that the strangers were safe to talk to and replied, "A good day to you, too, Sirs."
"Tell me, do you have a healer in your village?" Kelmos asked.
The man slowly looked them over before answering. "You don't look ill."
"We're not, fortunately", Pete hastened to explain before Kelmos could lose his patience. "But a companion of ours is, and we need a healer to see to him. We left him in the care of a friend a little way back."
The peasant mulled this over. At last he nodded. "Over there, last house but one on the right. Can't miss it, there's bunches of dried stuff all around the door and windows."
"Thank you", Pete said politely and quickly steered his companions away from the helpful locals.
"If they're as quick with their pitchforks as they are with their wits, I wonder how they manage to make a living", Kelmos muttered.
The two bards ignored his comment. "This must be it", Iolo said as they arrived at the hut the peasant had pointed out. There were indeed bunches of dried or drying herbs hanging in the windows, and a sweet scent wafted from them.
Pete knocked at the door. "Yes?" came a voice from within. "Come in, come in, I'm busy."
The companions looked at each other, shrugged, and pushed the door open.
The interior of the cottage consisted of a single, albeit rather large room. A workbench took up most of the space in front of one wall, the rest was mostly filled with shelves and boxes. A bed was crammed into a corner, a small table and two chairs were set next to the fireplace which obviously also served as the kitchen.
A middle-aged man in a stained brown smock was busy at the workbench. To Iolo's disappointment, no strange and colourful elixirs were bubbling away in pots or glass tubes. Instead, the bench was covered with heaps of green stuff and a large bowl.
"Hello there", said the man at the workbench and straightened. "Tedious work, shelling peas, but I do like a good stew. Now, what can I do for you?"
Pete at once launched into a heart-wrenching report of their dear friend's sickness (of course without any mention whatsoever of its cause) and entreated the good healer to come with them and ease his suffering.
The healer nodded sagely. "Yes, yes, our good mountain air might be just a trifle rough for you lowlanders", he said indulgently. "Although it's been years since we had as fine a summer as this one", he added, and Kelmos silently wished Ulwamnar could have heard this. Apparently where he came from, the coldest winters were still warmer than a "fine summer" up here.
While Pete and Iolo chatted idly with him, the healer (who introduced himself as Bertram) gathered a few things into a burlap sack. Finally he declared himself ready to leave and begged the companions to lead the way.
*****
Everything went smoothly for about the first half hour of their way. Then the three friends began to notice signs of growing unease in their companion. "Is anything wrong?" Pete finally asked innocently.
"Well..." Bertram cast an anxious look ahead. "How far is it to the place where you left your friends?"
"Not very far now", Iolo said. "Just a mile or so up that mountain."
The healer paled. "I'm not going up there", he stated flatly.
"But why not?" Pete asked. "We left him in a cave, should be a perfectly safe place."
"A cave", Bertram groaned. "There's a dragon up there!"
"Oh, her." Pete shrugged dismissively. "Yes, we've met. Nice lady, really."
"But..." sputtered Bertram, suddenly convinced that these strangers had to be several cards short of a full deck, "A dragon! He'll fry us!"
"She", corrected Pete. "Don't forget that, she's very partial to being addressed as a lady."
Suddenly Bertram turned around and started running back towards the village at top speed.
"Now, let's not be hasty", Iolo said soothingly and caught him at the collar. "The world could be a much friendlier place if people weren't so full of prejudices. Here", he drew a flask from his belt with his free hand and gave it to the trembling healer. "Have a drink, and everything will look brighter."
Bertram gave him the kind of look normally reserved for raving madmen, but accepted the flask.
"Tsk." Pete shook his head and opened the flask for him when it became obvious that Bertram's hands were shaking too much. "There you go."
The healer closed his eyes resignedly and took a gulp. At once his eyes widened in surprise. "This is good stuff", he said approvingly. "Very good stuff", he added and took another swig. Iolo watched mournfully as the last of his mead went down. The sacrifices one was forced to make...
*****
"An' where do we go now?" Bertram asked with a heavy tongue. "Light or, or reft? I mean, rrright or llleft?" He swayed a little and beamed at them.
Pete looked ahead, where exactly one path ran straight up the mountain, and decided that Bertram had had enough. Which was just as well, for they didn't have any more mead. He took the healer's arm. "Just straight on", he said. "A nice little walk, and it's not far now." He gently steered Bertram towards the path, and the healer came as meekly as a lamb.
It took a while to get back to the cave, for Bertram in his current condition was anything but sure-footed. At least he didn't protest any more and seemed to have forgotten that a murderous, fire-breathing beast dwelled just ahead.
"This is your medicine man?" Ulwamnar asked with a dubious look at Bertram.
The healer squinted. "My, my, that does look bad", he murmured and cast an accusing glance at Pete. "You said nothin' about burns!"
"No, no", Kelmos explained hastily. "He's not your patient, he's as healthy as can be. The colour is... the result of a magical experiment gone wrong. Nothing contagious", he added quickly as he saw Bertram's doubtful look.
As on cue, a rasping cough came from the back of the cave. "That was your patient", Pete said helpfully, steered the healer towards Franco's bed and gave Kelmos a meaningful nod. The mage quietly withdrew into one of the side caves.
*****
To Pete's surprise, Bertram's intoxication didn't seem to have much of an impact on his skills as a healer. He looked Franco over, then produced a little flask from his sack and ordered him to drink the contents. Then he took a small cloth bag and handed it to Pete. "Make a tea from these herbs, and give it to him four times a day. Tastes abominable, but should have him up and about in a few days." He yawned. "'n now I think I'll take a little nap..." he murmured. Pete just smiled, handed him a blanket and eased him to the floor. Moments later, Bertram was snoring peacefully.
Pete grinned and rubbed his hands. "Is Kelmos ready?" he asked Iolo, who had just peeped into the side cave.
"Should be any moment, I think", Iolo replied. "The whole floor in there is covered with scribblings and diagrams. I wonder what exactly it is he's conjuring."
"He said something about a fire elemental, the most impressive thing he knows how to call", Pete said. "A flaming dragon would be pretty... would look really good in a fight with her Ladyship."
"She knows what she's supposed to do?"
Pete nodded. "Everything's ready, we're just waiting for Kelmos."
*****
"Bertram!" Pete shook the healer's shoulder. "Bertram, wake up, there's trouble!"
"Whassat?" Bertram looked up at him with bleary eyes.
"I'll explain later", Pete said urgently, "but now we have to... oh gods!"
A shrill scream came from the side cave. A moment later Kelmos emerged running, hotly pursued, as it was, by a very strange creature. Pete sighed inwardly. So much for flaming dragons... oh well, this thing was probably not too bad, considering Kelmos was still an apprentice.
Hard on the mage's heels came a vaguely humanoid figure, about three feet tall, and surrounded by a dull reddish glow. Sparks fell from its body as it menacingly brandished a small dagger. At least there were proper flames licking along the blade.
Kelmos screamed again as the gnome caught up with him and stabbed at him. The mage went down in what Pete had to admit was a really convincing fashion.
"Oh gods, the demons!" Iolo shouted dramatically and drew his rapier. "Pete, we must stop it before the big ones get through!"
"Yes, we absolutely have to!" Pete too drew his weapon, ostensibly ignoring Bertram, who pressed himself against the wall, wide-eyed and shivering. Pete really hoped the healer wasn't going to pass out with terror, or all this carefully laid out display would be for nothing.
The two bards raised their weapons and hurled themselves against the elemental, battle cries on their lips. After all, certain customs had to be observed.
Kelmos had given the gnome detailed instructions. Pete felt a little sorry that he was in the middle of the fight, it must have been really an impressive show to watch from the outside. And what a song this would make... if only the creature had been a little larger. As it was, they always had to be careful not to obstruct Bertram's view of the "monster".
It quickly became clear that the "defenders" didn't stand a chance against their "attacker". "Argh!" Iolo cried and went down in a heartbreaking rendition of the Dying Hero.
Pete cast a panicked glance around. "Dragon!" he called. "Dragon, where are you? The gate of hell has opened, where is its guardian?" He was really proud of that line, he would have to remember it.
"Here!" A bellowing roar echoed through the cave as the dragon came forth. Pete cast a worried glance at Bertram, but the healer held up admirably. Perhaps he was simply too scared to remember how to faint. He stared from the motionless figure of Iolo to the flaming gnome to the dragon and back, his mouth hanging open. Brilliant, thought Pete and decided it was time for his own exit. He gasped loudly, clutching his chest in the general area where the gnome was pointing his dagger, and fell to his knees. Slowly he sagged down, turning so he could watch Bertram through half-closed lids.
The dragon reared her head and breathed fire. The jet was carefully aimed at the mouth of the cave and illuminated its interior briefly, but brightly. The gnome, being a fire spirit, was of course unharmed by it and waved its dagger threateningly at the dragon. The fight that ensued was, as Iolo had to admit, worthy of a song. Or perhaps even two. The gnome danced around the dragon, trying to stab her, while the dragon roared and slashed about with her claws. She was a good actress, he thought, she really managed to make this look like hard work. Finally, in a last tremendous outburst of flame and a mighty roar, she ripped the gnome apart. The elemental flickered for a moment, then disappeared.
Silence fell. Then Iolo issued a piteous groan and drew himself to his knees. Pete and Kelmos, also miraculously alive, followed suit, and Ulwamnar peeped from the side cave where he had "hidden".
"That was close", Pete remarked and nodded at the dragon. "Thank you, Mylady. You came in time."
"And to think that this was one of the small and harmless ones..." Iolo shuddered.
"What in the name of the Serpent was that?" stuttered Bertram, suddenly very sober again and wishing he wasn't.
"A demon", Kelmos said grimly. "A mighty demon straight from the pits of hell. Didn't you know there's a gate in these caves?"
"A... a gate?" Bertram looked at him in confusion.
"Yes, a gate to hell. Sometimes it opens, and... things... come through. This time we were lucky, it was only one, and a small one at that. Who knows what might come out next time."
Bertram gulped. "Can't this gate be closed?"
"No." This time the dragon spoke. "It can't be closed, it can only be guarded. Which is why I'm here." She looked at him earnestly. "It is my duty to guard this gate and to protect you and your people. And since until today you weren't even aware of its existence, I seem to have fulfilled this duty quite well so far."
Bertram could only stare at her and nod weakly. And then, finally, he passed out. But since the show was over anyway, nobody minded much.
*****
Three days later, the companions went down to the village to see whether their plan had borne the expected fruits. It was already late afternoon, and they proceeded straight to the tavern. As they had hoped, a cluster of people had gathered around the long table in the centre of the room. In their midst Bertram was holding court.
"... and I tell you, I couldn't believe my eyes when this monster came out of the cave", he was saying. "A giant, at least nine feet tall and wielding this incredibly large flaming sword! The blade alone was as long as I'm tall! It cut down the strangers like nothing, and then the dragon... oh, greetings, my friends. Good to see you're up and about again." He waved cheerfully at them.
"Yes, it was a near thing", Pete replied gravely and sat down. "But I'm feeling a lot better already. If her Ladyship hadn't arrived just in time..."
Iolo nodded. "Yes, she certainly saved all our lives", he said and beckoned to the serving maid.
"By the way, any sheep gone missing lately?" Kelmos asked casually.
The villagers exchanged glances. "Well, to be honest, one or two seem to have disappeared", one of them mumbled.
Bertram gave him a withering look. "What's a few sheep, if the dragon keeps us safe from these creatures?" he demanded. "You weren't there, you didn't see what I saw. I say, if all she wants in exchange are sheep, let her have them!"
This is definitely going well, Pete decided and settled back to watch the ensuing argument. We didn't even have to bring up the suggestion ourselves.
In the end Bertram's colourful description of the horror from the pits of hell won the day. It was agreed that the dragon, since she was risking her very life for the good of the village, could indeed expect something in return, namely, sheep.
At this point, the companions bade them farewell, leaving the villagers to haggle about the details.
"Well, that didn't work out too badly", Iolo said smugly as they were walking back to the cave.
"And it will make a nice song, too", Pete agreed. "Don't you think so, Kelmos? We should do this more often, we might become famous one day."
The mage paled. Pete laughed and clapped him on the back. And, since every story needs a proper ending, they marched off towards the setting sun.