15: Want To Help Us Kill A Dragon?

Somon was clad in a dead man’s clothes, wearing a sword he had stolen from a guard he had killed with his bare hands.

Half the city had been destroyed by the dragon before it had settled down into the ruins of the castle.

Picking through the devastation, Somon had seen plenty of dead people, people weeping over dead people, people taking dead peoples’ belongings, and priests saying prayers over dead people. Strange that the church seemed to have been spared the destruction. Some were saying now that it was evidence of a divine blessing. Somon, however, realised that many buildings had escaped destruction – the church was just one of them.

But because people are stupid, they were flocking to the church’s steps, thinking that there might be some way that the church could help. The church couldn’t help. Those fraud priests were all talk and no action.

Somon, on the other hand, was doing something. He was looking for his sword.

He knew that the captain of the castle guard had it, so he had been heading towards the castle when the dragon came. After trashing much of the city, the beast had turned its attention to the castle, tearing stone from stone with its immense teeth and claws. The walls and towers seemed to still be mostly intact, but the great keep had been almost completely destroyed, and after a while the dragon had settled into the ruins. Rumour held that it was sleeping, though few people had been brave enough to take a look.

With any luck, the captain had been killed and all Somon would need to do was walk up to his corpse and take his sword back.

It had been a hellish night. Dawn had broken on a ruined city, with fires still raging. No-one noticed or cared when Somon had stripped a corpse – green woolen tunic and grey trews. He’d a pair of sturdy boots from a ruined cobbler’s shop, and when a patrol of the city watch had trooped past on their way to somewhere that was probably very important, it was an easy matter to trip the last one in the group and throttle him. None of the others appeared to even notice his absence, but Somon got a sword. Not as good as his, but a sword nonetheless. He’d had to use it too, during the long night. Looters were about, the dregs of Bridgeport. Killing them had been a pleasure.

Somon turned a corner, and gazed upon the great square in front of the castle. A ragged group of castle guards, watchmen, and soldiers had gathered. A leader was barking orders, and as Somon approached, a small group detached itself and made its way into the ruined city.

Just before the remaining men closed the gap in their ranks, Somon had a glimpse of the leader. The man had his sword!

The captain was wearing a simple helmet and hauberk, and held a crossbow, in addition to having Somon’s sword stuck through his belt. Somon crossed the square, pushing past a couple of city watchmen.

“Give me my sword!” he called. The captain looked at him and raised his eyebrows. Then he drew the sword from his belt. Somon prepared himself to tackle the man and break his neck, but the captain held out the sword hilt first.

“You know how to use it?” he asked.

Somon stopped. This was not what he expected. He reached out and grasped the sword’s hilt. It slid easily into his hand, as though it belonged there.

“I think I’ve already demonstrated that I do,” he said.

“Good,” replied the captain. “Want to help us kill a dragon?”

Somon very nearly ran the man through on the spot. But he fought the urge. He looked around at the faces of the gathered guardsmen and soldiers. They all had the same expression – determined, fierce. The expression of men who had lost everything, but were about to go and get it back.

He had been anticipating a fight to get his sword back, but the man had just given it to him, and invited him to help kill a dragon.

The very idea was ridiculous. A dragon? It was a child’s tale come to life. The only people who had ever slain dragons were the Upraised, and they didn’t exist.

Except that the priest, Faaral, had suggested that Somon was himself Upraised. Somon had scoffed, but that was before a dragon had appeared out of nowhere and destroyed the city. And dragons didn’t exist either.

Could he be Upraised? Was it possible?

And why not? The dragon had appeared, straight out of the stories. Why not also the Upraised? He tried to remember all he could about the stories his unlamented mother had told him.

They were said to have had magical powers. The stories claimed that this was why they had been destroyed – they had grown proud, and bold, and their reach was further than the world could handle, so they were cast down in the great Cataclysm.

If the dragon had returned, surely the Upraised had also returned – in order to slay it. It, and others like it.

Somon looked away from the captain, and set his gaze on the castle.

“Yes,” he said. “I will help you kill the dragon.”

And then the rain came.