Chapter First: Extinction Song
Classic Dragon Slayer Fantasy with a Twist
This story still holds a strong place in my heart and I hope to see it finished some day. I was inspired by several books and media in which Bards play a prominent role and I thought to myself what would it be like to actually follow a hero on their quests? This is the story of a Bard who gets the chance of a lifetime to follow the most famous dragon slayer in all the land, but finds that the heroism of song and the heroism of real life is often starkly contrasted. While following the hero at the end of his career, he discovers the loneliness of the questor, the shocking reasons for being called to a quest, and the bitter truths about Dragons and Dragon Slayers. Do enjoy, and I hope to share more of this story in the future…
Extinction Song
1
The blood spurted forth from the creature's neck as the sword came down; drenching the breastplate of the sword's wielder. A final lash of the tail struck against his head with a resounding clang, but he barely acknowledged it. He placed one, booted foot against the head of scaled beast and ripped his sword free.
It was several month's now since I started following the Dragon Slayer, so I no longer wretched at the sight of such a grisly sight, but I quickly looked away. There are some sights that you can see too many times. I made my way over to the horses to grab fresh water and rags to deal with cleanup while I also gave my own outfit a cursory glance just in case. As soon as my back was turned, however, I began to hear the sounds of footsteps.
Coming up the hill toward us was a crowd of several dozen villagers being led by a portly gentleman in garish finery. His face was red from the climb, and the puffing of his cheeks combined with his bald head gave him a ripe cherry appearance. This was one of the better states I had seen the mayor in.
“Noble Knight!” the mayor called – or at least tried to. What came out was more of a wheeze followed by a short bout of coughing. When he recovered, he repeated himself more coherently. “Noble Knight, we thank you for vanquishing this terrible beast that threatened the lives and homes of the dear citizens of Derth.”
The mayor gestured grandly to the blue-scaled monstrosity that now lay headless in a pool of its own blood. I could not help looking skeptically at the mayor. Of course, any dragon threat needed to be taken seriously, but this particular nuisance had been hardly larger than a horse and had only gone after stray livestock and spooked some poor widow so far.
It had not even been a real fight for my companion. Normally, he would scout an area, make sure of the advantages, plot out how to avoid the disadvantages, and make sure he was well rested. This morning, he had been pointed in the general direction of the dragon, and he immediately set to lopping off its head. If the mayor had contacted the king instead of the Dragon Slayer, a handful of guards could have handled the situation.
Maybe I was just jaded.
The Dragon Slayer, meanwhile, removed his helmet and spoke with neither false humility nor overbearing bravado, but with clear concise facts.
“The Blue is dead. Its a male, so you don't have to worry about eggs in the area. You should clean up the corpse soon. The meat is unpleasant to eat, but the bones are good for the dogs. You should also know that I hold no title; knight or otherwise.”
The Derth's mayor was slack-jawed for a moment, but seemed to recover quickly.
“Once again, we – the people of Derth – thank you for putting your life on the line to protect us. Such nobility is worth more than any title, would you not agree?”
The mayor was met with a non-committal stare that lasted long enough to get uncomfortable. The mayor was losing momentum and the villagers were beginning to mumble among themselves. This was not the reaction they had expected from a conquering hero. Before the assemblage completely dissolved, the mayor loudly cleared his voice and rallied his people in a loud voice.
“As a token of our gratitude, the people of Derth are hosting a feast in your honor! It will be held this evening from dusk to dawn!”
This immediately achieved both the attention and appreciation of the assembled crowd. The Dragon Slayer, meanwhile held his position as a stone might brace itself for a tidal wave. When the noise finally died down to manageable levels, he gave them his reply.
“I suppose it would be rude to refuse such an honor,” he said. There was a collective intake of breath to begin another uproar, but he quickly added, “But please confirm the arrangements with Girion over there,” and with a gesture, indicated me.
For the first time, the crowd noticed my presence. Admittedly, I did not have the same imposing figure as the man I traveled with, and I was strictly adverse to doing any slaying myself. I walked away from the horses and walked toward the mayor.
“Hello, there!” I called “I am Girion, valet to that fine gentleman over there.”
“Ah,” The mayor replied. He seemed grateful to have some sort of direction to go in. When I was closer, he once again puffed out his chest and began another stately speech. “Noble Squire, what -”
“Again,” I interrupted. “Not a knight, so I am not a squire. You can call me Girion. Here is what you need to know about our necessary accommodations. We have two horses. The black stallion eats only fresh fruits and vegetables; carrots and apples are preferred. The paint mare can be fed grains, hay – whatever is available in large quantities – but the saddlebags need to be restocked with provisions; meat, bread, any anything else that is good for travel. Obviously sleeping accommodations need to be comfortable...”
I continued rambling and grinned inwardly as I saw the mayor's aide hurriedly pull out a slate and chalk to keep track of my requests. In the corner of my eye, I saw the armored form of Isaac – I may be the only one for a hundred miles who knows his name is Isaac – bend over the body of the dispatched dragon. With a leather-gloved hand, he took hold of one of the azure scales on its back and tugged firmly. The scale let go with a sharp, wet snap, and he held it up to the sky to examine before placing it in a small pouch at his belt. His ritual complete, Isaac set to removing his sword belt and loosening his armor.
I reflected that after three months' travel, I still had no idea why he did that, but I knew it would appear next to the other randomly assembled scales on his breastplate next time I polished it. I would have to bring it up soon if I was to accurately complete my work, but for the time being, he had a party to attend and I had songs to write.
The sounds of pitched voices and plucked strings made my fingers itch to hold my lute, but I was forced to stand idly by while the so-called “bards” of this village fawned over their savior. This was not my time, I reminded myself. This was a day for the people of Derth, not a day to earn my fame as a bard.
That time would come later.
The villages had certainly made an impressive display to express their gratitude for the extermination of a large lizard. Aside from music, there were a few talented jugglers prancing about, a score of young ladies dancing across the floor of the hall, and a roaring fire in front of the banquet table. The food was nothing extravagant or outlandish, but there did seem to be a lot of it. Every person in the surrounding league or two seemed to have gathered around the table to take part in the feast, and all the attention was centered on the mayor and the man who sat at his right.
The man I knew as Isaac was not as imposing without his armor on, but he was still impressive. He was a hand taller than most of the men there and he had the shoulders of a seasoned swordsman. He wore a black tunic over black trousers, and while no one would necessarily call it finery, it was spotless an tailored perfectly to him. The Dragon Slayer, himself, had a handsome face with several small scars that only served to increase his allure. His eyes were dark, but active, and the only thing that belied his age was the silver that peppered his cropped, brown hair. Even though I knew he was well into his fifth decade, I could see many ladies doing their best to catch his eye.
Isaac, however, was as stoic in this as he was in facing scaled monstrosities. Perhaps more so. He responded politely and succinctly to everything that was spoken to him, but he offered nothing else. Instead he directed the majority of his focus to heaping plate of meat and potatoes that had been placed in front of him.
I was happy to see that he was enjoying the feast as much as I was. Since I was not the subject of as much – or any – attention, I decided to cut my participation short and retreat to the stables. Outside, it was far more peaceful. Since accompanying Isaac, I had spent more time in rural areas than more the more populated cities in the center of the empire, so I had come to appreciate the quiet. Nearby were the sounds of chickens and other livestock, and even the gentle brush of the wheat stalks could be made out as the night wind blew.
Not for the first time, I wished to take back my promise to the Dragon Slayer and instead write simple poetry about simple beauty, but I quickly shrugged it off. No bard ever earned a place in history by reminiscing on grains of wheat.
When I walked into the stables, I immediately heard Celerity calling after me.
“Quiet you!” I playfully admonished as I brushed her muzzle with my hand. “I'm sorry I took so long, but I had to be sure that Isaac was as miserable as possible.” Cel whinnied even louder as if to laugh at my jest. Using my left hand to keep petting her, I reached around the now-full saddlebags to find my notebook and charcoal. The afternoon's events would hardly constitute a verse, much less an epic, but my training told me to try and capture everything I could. You could never predict what the key moment of a story would be.
While I wrote, I ventured a look over at The Black. The old stallion was always relentlessly stoic, and I felt like he never even noticed me. I was glad to see that he had been groomed and fed, but to look at him now, you would think him a statue. He only stood stock-still in his stall, staring out into the nearby field; as if he knew only to look forward to the next trek with his master.
I was only a few lines into m writing when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. The stables faced the rear of Derth's meeting hall. Out of one of the windows, I saw the silhouette of a man climbing out and running at full sprint for the stables. For a brief moment, my hand slid toward the nearly useless dagger at my belt, but then I realized who it was.
“Are the horses saddled?” Isaac asked. He began mounting The Black before I could answer.
“Of course,” I answered as I threw my own legs over Celerity's back. “You in some sort of trouble?”
Isaac looked at me levelly. “The mayor had six daughters. Six. If I had to sit through another humiliating attempt to marry one of them off to me I was going to scream.”
Without another word, he flicked his reins and headed west down the dirt road. I smiled to myself and quickly followed suit. After traveling for nearly two hours, we left the road and made camp in an open field.
I made an effort at a small fire, but Isaac only dismounted and laid out a bedroll next to his horse. I unsaddled Celerity as well and propped up across from him. I looked over at the man that I had followed in my quest for the ultimate tale and considered all that I had learned from him.
It wasn't much. For a person that was more well known than the emperor, he was enormously closed off. I new that he was not a young man, but he was still in his prime. He did not like crowds and he did his best to avoid attention. He only accepted gifts if offered, but he never asked for his actions to be repaid. And yet, he was the Dragon Slayer. He hunted dragons as a profession and often went out of his way to chase rumors of the scaled beasts. It was not for fame or fortune, but for...
Well I still hadn't figured that out. I would have to draw that out of him eventually, but not tonight. His eyes were closed, so I took out my notebook to try and get a few more lines written before the fire completely died out.
“Did you write about today?” Isaac muttered. I looked up sharply, but he was still and his eyes were closed. I shrugged and put down my charcoal.
“A little bit. I might be able to get three stanzas, but it won't be much. There was some talent back there, so I might send a copy back to Derth once its finished.”
“Tell it to me.”
“I – really, it's not – I haven't anywhere near completed it, and I have no idea what the melody would -”
He opened one, dark eye to glare at me.
“Tell it.”
I groaned and cleared my throat:
“No armor 'scaped
That crimson spray
From dragon's neck brought forth.
The beast did cry
Before it died
On hills outside of Derth.
Isaac was silent for a moment, and I thought he had gone back to sleep when he said, “It's blunt, and ugly. But very true. I like it. Well done.”
Seconds after this declaration, I could hear snores coming from his direction. While I was still staggering from the abrupt compliment, the exhaustion of the day caught up with me and I drifted off as well.