Baneful Boon

"To be clear, it's a dragon. Not a drakon?" Kien made a point to emphasize the consonant and distinguish between the intellectual flying lizard and its witless counterpart that spewed acid instead of fire. He hunted wyrms, dragonets, and even managed to trap and kill an adult wyvern. A drakon he would not dare cross. 

A dragon, however, possessed intelligence. Kien could not best its might nor its ancient wisdom. He, however, felt the early sprouts of a plan take that confronted neither. 

Harumphing, the ruffian sitting before Kien, looked cross. He did not take to a stranger interrupting him and his company from foaming pints. The farmhand merely complained to his companions of a dragon that disrupted trade a few leagues from his home; he didn't think the young vagabond on the other side of the tavern would inquire over it. "Aye," he confirmed, "A dragon. What? You think you'll slay the beast and rescue the damsel?"

"No," Kien replied.

Sitting up straighter, the man looked at Kien expectantly, "Then? What are you bothering us for? If you aren't gonna help us, vagrant, then bother off."

Kien fiddled at his belt, patting his skint purse, "I said I wouldn't slay the dragon, but I think I can help." Not just at the table Kien disturbed, but now the rest of the poorly lit pub stopped their conversation to listen.

Now confused more than annoyed, the man leaned an elbow on the wooden table, still damp with the lye soap a wench scrubbed. He asked, "You don't say. How?"

Kien fastened his scabbard's knots and threw his small pack over his shoulder, "Without being roasted alive, hopefully. Tell me more about the woman; she is the only thing the dragon guards, right?"

A different man at the table cleared his throat, then twice more to gargle on his phlegm, "We think so. By chance did I see her, stranger. She was waving from a crack in the hold's walls. Ever since, once a day, we send an unmanned boat down the fork in the river full of food. We once tried to send a man concealed in the crafts, but the fell beast sniffed him out, and we..." The man didn't finish and scratched at his stubble.

So, the dragon possessed a keen smell. Kien nodded absently.

Humming quietly to himself, Kien wished to know such a resourceful woman. One that could survive a dragon's den. "All right, thank you." He turned away but half-stepped to a stop. Turning back, Kien asked, "Would any of you happen to trust in credit?"

The original man flicked a finger, his brow crooked, "Depends, stranger. How much gold we talking?"

"You misunderstand," Kien said curtly, "I'm looking for a bull." He added, "And what would you say this establishment's finest wine is?"

"We can accommodate, lad. But I have to ask, if you seem so sure you can get rid of it, why not kill the dragon? You'd be a hero amongst men!" 'Amongst men' indeed, Kien thought. He didn't dare declare the reasoning behind his hesitation.

~

Kien unfastened the cart from his trusty mare, Wyla, and looked to his quarry in the east, the dilapidated residence the dragon had taken as its home for the past fortnight - its stones once a proud fortress large enough that one might mistake it for a small castle that sat protected by a moat connected by a river; only now, the masonry melted and blackened under dragonfire with crows circling the ruins. An eerie sight indeed, enough to prickle Kien's skin.  

Ensuring a slow burn, Kien left the cow carcass in the cart to roast and made quiet haste southeast for the sinking bridge connecting to the fortress. The wind quickened, and the forest around him swayed in reply as if the earth understood his intent and roused itself to assist his quest. Kien led his steed a distance south and left her untethered in case his plan took for the worst. He favored the loyal and reliable animal and wished her the best. 

Rubbing down the mare, Kien whispered to his companion, "Send me away with luck, friend, for should I see you again, I will be accompanied by a fair lady."

Watching from afar, Kien hoped the scent of the bull ablaze would attract the dragon. The wind carrying the aroma from the west, the dragon roared its hunger and shook Kien in both body and spirit. The creature leaped from its home and took to the skies with frightening ease despite its gargantuan size, and Kien could not help but watch the beast taking the bait. Its four legs kicked as it flew, the flap of its wings heard from a league away in the sky, but Kien could not help but admire its sleek frame and how the teal scales caught the sun's light and reflected a rainbow of color that churned in the sky like an ocean's waves. Daring not a moment longer to linger, Kien ran out from the bushes and raced across the slippery bridge. 

Before passing through the crumbling walls, Kien saw the dragon land where the smoke of the burning cow billowed. Smirking, he congratulated himself for getting this far, at least. Now, he made to find the damsel in distress without calling out to her, lest he draw the dragon back to its abode.

Kien searched frantically for signs of life in the dark courtyard and saw many doors - too many doors leading in different directions. From the outside, the ruins did not suggest that the stables, smithy, or any other structure would remain standing. But alas, the dragon seemed to slumber in just the square and left much of the interior untouched, judging by the deep grooves in the ground and many blackened bones surrounding the perimeter.

Losing hope, Kien opted for the nearest door and hoped for the best. Not a moment after he grasped the handle did the door fly open, and a woman of similar height and age to Kien barreled into him. 

At a full sprint, the woman sent them both tumbling to the ground, rolling over each other. Both hastily rising, the woman hoisted Kien to his feet and beckoned quietly, "Apologies, friend, but we must away! Quickly!" Before he could reply, the woman, whom Kien now recognized as his golden-haired quarry, took off again at a pace he could barely match. 

The lady dashed barefoot over the slick bridge, her garb a ruined purple satin dress that Kien thought the woman cut herself so she might stride unhindered in her daring escape. She continued after she braved the bridge, not even to catch her breath; Kien labored to keep up with the nimble woman. They sped away for a quarter of a league, and when the lady stopped abruptly to crouch behind a tree, Kien skidded and stumbled; thankfully, the capable lady grabbed him before he fell and pulled him behind cover. Stinking of sweat, Kien tried to edge away from the lady so as not to insult her, but her grip on his shirt proved firmer than iron. 

Pointedly, the lady held a finger to her lips for quiet. They panted together and listened to the forest sing. Kien thought she worried the dragon would pursue them, but they made good time, considering she saved him the trouble of finding her within the keep.

After some time and silence, the lady sagged in relief and surprised Kien with a tight hug. When she pulled away, she beamed and said, "I give you my most heartfelt thanks for rescuing me, stranger. Call me friend and Saria, daughter of Lady Fay." She held out a hand.

Eyes widening, 'A demi-nymph!' Kien thought. 'And a royal one at that. But one that survived a dragon's wrath for the forest children! How?!' 

Kien replied appropriately but meekly, "Well met; call me friend and Kien, son of Conwell," he gingerly shook Saria's firm hand despite feeling he had not in the slightest rescued her. 

The dragon roared in the distance. Kien's mind raced, his imagination freezing his body in place. Either the dragon disliked its meal, or it found Saria missing.

Watching for the dragon to come soaring over the treeline, Kien turned his attention away from Saria for a moment, but when he turned back, he found her gone. Staying his surge of panic, a squelching splash sounded to his left. Kien turned to see Saria fallen head-first into a grungy bog. 

Running over to help Saria from the marsh, Kien made to grab her out of the mud, only for her to pull him in with her. 

"Cease your thrashing, Kien!" Saria whispered vehemently. "Othron will struggle to make our scent if we cover ourselves thoroughly in this muk."

As Saria slathered a firm clump of mud into his hair, Kien questioned, "You discerned his name? How? How did you even survive for as long as you did?"

Helping Kien keep from slipping with a firm hand, Saria explained, "My hair covered my ears-" she brushed a finger through her sludge-soaked locks to reveal sharp ears, "And my people know of mystical ways to endure dragons - come along and I will tell you of them!"

Kien led Saria to where he left Wyla and listened to her explain how demi-nymphs could influence others through sight and sound; dragons were, unfortunately, more difficult to coerce, but Saria managed to draw out Othron's fondness for riddles. The two exchanged puzzles and conundrums for her imprisonment, so Othron did her no harm. Kien enjoyed the voice of serenity regale in how she outsmarted the ancient beast, though he felt his worn leather attire and dulling blade unworthy to escort her.

Coming upon Wyla exactly where Kien had left her, the horse bounced its head over to him and sniffed at Saria, who laughed and spoke in a foreign, whimsical tongue to the steed, who nickered in reply. She turned to Kien and said, "Wyla says she is glad to find you safe and return with a fair lady." Saria laughed even more when Kien groaned and thrust his palm into his forehead, scattering mud splurts everywhere.

But Saria's laughter caught in her throat when wing beats boomed louder and louder. The dragon flew right to them.

The beast landed before them, flattening a dozen trunks to splinters and shaking the ground so hard it jostled Kien's balance, and it was all he could do to calm Wyla while she screamed in terror. Saria left Kien to handle his horse and placed herself between the dragon and him. 

The dragon hissed, his breath hot and foul but with a voice that thrummed smooth bass, "Rarely is a dragon played for a fool by man. But, never has a dragon been fooled by both a man and an, ah, a demi-nymph, Lady Saria." He growled, and the forest quaked with hundreds of animals taking flight at the warning.

Saria held up her hands, "Good Othron if you would please-"

"Silence forest-child!" Othron roared, "I would speak with my challenger." Saria's worry shone as she turned back to Kien, but he handed her the reins to Wyla and stepped forward. Othron made a clicking sound in the back of his throat, which Kien realized as something of a chortle, "Well played, little man. Were it not for the scent of your rump on your steed, I wouldn't have found you. But I commend you; no one has ever tried intoxicating me." Kien winced; his plan failed, and worse, Othron quickly discerned it. He hoped the barrel of wine he poured into the bull would have been enough to put the dragon to sleep. 

Othron's head swayed, looking above the treeline, "Just you, hm? Who are you to challenge me? Speak human, and I will grant you a brief demise." Kien couldn't speak and would not dare reach for his sword, for he nearly feared what came after slaying a dragon as much as the hungry-looking beast before him. He needed to give Saria and Wyla a chance to flee. He needed to stall Othron. 

Kien felt oddly calm, facing a dragon. Facing death. It tethered him, recognizing the inevitable end, but it sharpened his desperate desire to foil Othron from claiming both he and Saria.

Clearing his throat, Kien said, "Call me friend and Kien, son of Conwell." He slowly paced away from Saria while talking, "Perhaps we can come to an agreement, Othron?" 

The dragon cackled; it sounded like the sky's whip of lightning, "An agreement, you say? You mean not to contest me? Today is full of firsts. No, I shall satiate my desire to duel - draw your sword, mortal fleshling." When Kien refused, Othron grew impatient and challenged, "Draw your sword, craven." Muscles defying his will, Kien's hand seized his blade, but the risk of cowardly damnation abated just as quickly as it erupted in him.

Kien relaxed his fingers, letting go of his sword. Now he was 'Kien the Craven.'

From behind him, Kien heard Saria gasp. Othron's surprised hum sounded almost offended, and he questioned, "I see you stand defiantly, and yet... Why?"

Temptation weighed Kien to speak the truth, to reveal to Othron what shackled him from challenging him or any other of his kind. Something he never spoke of since his ostracization from his home. 

From his own family. 

But before Kien could decide what to say, Saria came to his rescue and shouted, "Answer a riddle correctly first, Othron, and we will both accept your challenge!"

In unison, the dragon and man cried, "What?!"

Coming to his side, Saria placed a reassured Kien with a brush of her fingers that felt like a cool breeze, perhaps magically empowering and encouraging him. Demi-nymph magic, Kien assumed. But what convinced him was her smile, wholeheartedly genuine and trusting him to succeed. And so, Kien nodded and turned to the dragon.

Othron conceded, "I cannot resist a chance at a novel mind puzzle. Very well, but beware, son of Conwell, I will kill you if you lie."

Kien knew of few riddles; all he thought old and presumed the elder beast would know of too. Cupping his chin, he took a few moments to scramble something together. And then something came to him, and Kien found it poetic. He turned to Othron.

"I am stronger than the tamers of the skies, yet I cower at dark clouds. I am revered by all, yet I hide from their praise. I am remorseful for making such history." Upon the last word, Kien smiled. He couldn't discern much of Othron's expression, but the dragon looked stumped.

"A hint," Othron said.

Saria jutted her chin, "We did not agree to provide any!"

Othron lunged forward with ample dexterity, his head stopping only two meters from Kien. He spat, "I DEMAND IT!" Kien nearly fell to his backside, but Saria hugged him to stand firm. 

After a silence, the dragon snarled, "I concede. You may go in peace." When the dragon turned, his tail swatting at trees, he turned back to speak, "Farewell, Kien the Craven..." Othron took to the air and flew out of sight. 

Legs turning to mush, Kien heaved a sigh of relief, which curiously turned to laughter. Saria regarded him with puzzled amusement, but then she joined him, perhaps also realizing they thwarted certain death. Once they began to feel breathless, they collected themselves, and Saria requested Kien accompany her back to her domain. Kien happily agreed.

~

"I must ask, though, I thought your race, like mine, fearful or defiant of dragons - you defied it but did not challenge to slay it. Why is that?"

Pulling out hard bread from a saddle pouch, Kien broke to give to Sarian and said, "Dragons are territorial and prideful, and they hoard until they are disturbed or killed. I certainly couldn't best a dragon," he patted his hilt's grip, "So I did the next best thing, I disturbed its home. From the tales I've heard and texts I've read the dragon, Othron, should have left."

The stiff bread crackled as Saria bit into it, but she didn't seem to mind. She nodded her thanks for it and replied, "Is that the only reason?" Her tone hinted at uncertainty.

"Other than living to see tomorrow? Or helping you-"

"Saving me," Saria corrected.

"Helping you, Kien reaffirmed. "I also rid the locals of a dragon dwelling nearby. Seemed a noble thing to do."

Saria inclined her head, "Did you hope for a chance to etch your name in song?" 

"No, at least I hope not."

"Ah, I presumed as much." Saria smiled knowingly. "You are far different from any other human I've encountered."

Kien turned away, feigning ignorance. He asked, "What makes you say that?"

Soothingly, Saria said, "You believe the myths of the first aerie - where the first of the dragons of old abode. The dragon-slayer title isn't so much a boon when dragons return to roost and commune, hm?" When Kien remained silent, Saria comforted softly, "You needn't worry, Kien. My kind do not share the prejudice of your race's religion - we, too, believe in such a place." When Kien remained silent at this, Saria continued, "Have you experienced discrimination for your beliefs?"

Kien only nodded and spoke nothing of it.

Saria's smile pitied Kien, but its warmth helped him find compassion instead of superiority. 

Saria breathed in the twilight air, "Ah, what adventures await us, Kien." He gave her an incredulous glance, "Forgive me," she laughed, "I must teach you the language of the forest - they tell me our path to my people's domain is waylaid by many who require our aid." She stopped before Wyla and held her hand to him, "That is if you'll join me?"

Kien laughed, amazed what a beautiful woman of mystical royalty asked, "Of course," he replied.