18: You're Overthinking This

From their perch atop a pile of rubble, Somon and Carton looked down on the dragon below. They were sprawled on their bellies, the hard stones cutting into them painfully, but it seemed that they didn’t need to try all that hard to be seen. The dragon was, indeed, asleep.

The smell of hot metal mixed with the rain and filled the courtyard in front of what was left of the keep. The keep itself was little more than a pile of rubble, though there were some parts of some walls still nearly vertical. The ruins of a tapestry were caught under a stone fallen from one of the upper floors, getting soaked by the rain, which was slowly getting steadier.

The dragon had draped itself over the rubble, about thirty feet above the level of the courtyard. Stones in its belly apparently didn’t bother it. It was gigantic. Its head alone was the size of a trade ship. It was covered in scales the colour of burning coals and each one as large as a door. Heat radiated from it like a furnace, turning the rain to steam.

Somon had been outfitted in a dead soldier’s mail hauberk, though he declined the helmet. The hauberk was heavier than he had expected, and each breath was an effort. It was already making his shoulders hurt, but the soldiers had shown him how to lift it up so that his belt took a portion of the weight.

Carton raised his hand. Thirty longbowmen nocked arrows and five crossbowmen raised their weapons to their shoulders. The archers were spread out – most had scaled what remained of the walls, others had taken posi-tions behind large pieces of fallen stone. He held his hand up and checked that all were ready, then cried “Loose!” and the air hissed as thirty five missiles raced each other and struck the dragon in the face and flanks.

The dragon didn’t move. It didn’t even wake up.

Somon looked over at Carton and raised an eyebrow. The crossbowmen started to span their weapons to pre-pare for another shot.

“Could we drop a rock on it, do you think?” Carton asked, his voice a whisper.

“You’re overthinking this,” replied Somon as he got to his feet. Gripping his sword tight, he jumped from stone to stone and descended to the courtyard. He raised his sword in two hands to his shoulder and broke into a run. As Carton watched, the sword grew until it was a full sized two-handed greatsword. He stared – he had had that sword in his possession for most of a day and a night, and in all that time it had been nothing but an ordi-nary, though unusually designed, longsword. But in Somon’s hands, the vestigial knucklebow was gone, the blade was longer and wider, and the pommel and guard larger. As he watched Somon charge the dragon single-handedly, a pair of lugs emerged from the ricasso.

Somon clambered up the rubble to where the dragon was, moving a lot more easily in the mail than he had been previously, and as he reached the dragon he made a mighty leap into the air. He brought the sword down on the dragon’s nose, and it bit deep.

The dragon’s eyes snapped open, and it roared and raised its head. Somon was lifted from the ground, but the sword sliced deeper into the beast’s snout as Somon dropped to the ground. The slice gushed black blood that smoked as it hit the ground, mixing with the rainwater with a hiss.

“Aim for the eyes!” bellowed Carton. “Loose!” More arrows were launched, but none found their mark.

The dragon was looking around, trying to locate the gnat that had hurt it, but Somon was now under its shoulder. With a great swing he buried the sword once again into the dragon’s flesh. The great beast let out a scream, loud enough to topple some stones from a nearby wall. It twisted, trying to step on the little man, but he was too quick. Again the sword flashed, again it sliced dragonflesh and again blood spurted.

The rain was getting heavier. The dragon sat back on its haunches and made to launch itself into the air. If it became airborne, it would be out of Somon’s reach. And Somon was the only one of them that had hurt it in any way so far. It crouched, but at that moment green fire struck its face. One after another, five bright gouts of green flame struck, and the dragon reared back to escape it.

Carton looked around to try and find the source of the missiles. Hovering over the castle, suspended in mid-air, was the red-haired youth Adam.

“Again! Loose!” cried Carton, and this time several of the arrows found the dragon’s near eye, just as So-mon’s next cut struck one leg.

With a bellow, the dragon kicked out and flung Somon through the air. He landed heavily in the courtyard and didn’t move. The beast launched itself into the air, making straight for Adam. A gout of fire burst from its maw and for a moment the autumn rain became a summer rain.

Uttering an oath to the Master, Carton shouted to his troops, “take cover!” Anyone caught in that flame would be incinerated. But when he looked again, the dragon was flying away, upriver, towards the mountains.

A cheer rose from the soldiers. They had done it! The dragon had been driven away from the city.

“It’ll be back.”

Carton looked around and saw Adam, descending slowly to the wall where he stood.

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“Take a look.” Adam pointed into the ruins, where glints of gold were now visible. The dragon had been sleeping on top of the King’s treasure chamber.

“Yeah,” said Carton. “That’ll need to be secured.”

He turned to issue orders to his men, but Adam put a hand on his arm.

“Who is that?” he asked. Carton looked where Adam was pointing, realised that Somon lay almost invisible among the rubble, dead or unconscious.

“That,” he replied, “is the man who was killed by the demon you saw.”

“Huh. He got his sword back, I see.”

“Yes. I gave it to him. We needed his help.

“I’ll take care of him,” said Adam, rising once more into the air.