Dragon Heart

The sky had been threatening with heavy dark clouds all morning, but it wasn’t until Dravis Stone lit up a cigarette that the storm finally broke. A fat drop landed directly on the lit cherry, which hissed into a soggy, inert mess. Sighing, he tossed it away.

The mountain pass was narrow, craggy, and full of grass clumps dry from the sun. It had been a scorcher of a summer, and even up here, where it was relatively cooler, you could still see the affects.

Despite the heat, he was wearing full leather armor over chain mail. Even though it had ruined his smoke, he was grateful for the rain. It should cool things down.

Dravis soldiered on up the mountain.

According to the gossip from the pub patrons in the nearby village of Sunter, a dragon had taken up residence in an old cave near the summit of this mountain. He wasn’t completely certain he could trust such a sotted source, but it was the best lead he had to go on.

Dravis had never killed a dragon before. Hunting them had been outlawed since before he was born, largely due to the work of the dragon expert Anise Bennings, whose work showed that they were not the mindlessly bloodthirsty monsters most had believed. Although of course a few aggressive specimens existed, dragons were largely content to leave humans alone. . . unless provoked.

And Dravis intended to provoke.

Not that he was a provocative man by nature. This was not a trophy hunt, nor was he trying to chase a thrill.

The rain ceased almost as quickly as it began. He lit another cigarette and took a deep drag. Upon his exhale, the wind carried away the sinuous gray smoke. He continued the climb, trying not to think, and failing. Against his will, he recalled the conversation he had had the previous day.

“She needs medicine,” the witch said in a hushed tone. She did not look the way Dravis expected a witch to look. For one, she was only in her early 20’s, hardly more than a child really, and ethereally beautiful.

“I know she does,” Dravis responded in a similar tone. “That’s why I sent for you.”

The witch looked over Tamara’s sleeping form, so small and frail. She said, “Her spirit is strong, but her body is fighting itself. She needs Caputsom elixir.”

“How much would that cost?”

“Not much,” she said. “But getting the ingredients. . . that’s the tricky part.”

Dravis looked at his sleeping daughter. The dark, half-moon bruises beneath her closed eyes, her sallow skin, the sunken cheeks.

“What do I need to do?” he asked.

A hawk’s cry pierced the quiet of the day as it soared overhead, bringing Dravis out of his thoughts. He watched the bird glide off and continued climbing.

The path was growing more narrow with each step, and the incline became more severe. By the time he reached the small plateau at the mouth of the cave, he was breathless and his legs burned.

It was called Hobbs’ Cave, for reasons he did not know. It was something of a rite of passage for teenagers to sneak up here and party. He supposed, if he looked at it in a certain light, getting rid of this dragon would then eliminate a possible threat to the local children. Or was that a pale, twisted justification? He couldn’t tell.

Dravis pulled out his bow, nocking an arrow carrying a powerful, fast-acting poison. Each arrow cost a whole gold piece, so he only had two. He had to make the shots count. He approached the cave.

Enough light filtered in to illuminate the fact that it was currently empty, save a freshly ravaged deer carcass. So there was indeed some sort of predator in residence. The only other possibility would be a saber cat, but he doubted one would have dragged the deer all the way up to the cave before snacking on it. No, this was the kill of something that could easily carry a seventy pound deer.

Dravis explored further as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. It was not a large or deep cave, and it did not take long to discover piles of bones and a nest filled with six large, pale blue eggs splashed with darker speckles.

He stared at the eggs, his mind working overtime. Did the sight of the eggs change his mind about what he was planning to do? No, but it did cause a wave of unease to crash over him.

Dravis settled in at the back of the cave, sitting cross-legged, setting his bow on the rocky floor beside him. He wondered how long he would have to wait. Generally he was a patient man, but it was difficult to be patient when waiting to commit an act that made you feel all twisted inside.

If he were caught, the consequences would be severe. Sentences for dragon poaching varied wildly, from a hefty fine to imprisonment. He could afford neither of those things. Tamara’s deteriorating condition meant she needed him home often, and that meant he had to turn down a number of jobs.

Dravis was a sellsword. He fought other people’s battles for coin. Sometimes he didn’t even have to fight, as his appearance alone was enough to make some lesser foes back down. Tall, built like a workhorse, a jagged scar down the side of his face, Dravis was an intimidating figure. He looked like a man who should not be trifled with.

Dravis had gotten into mercenary work young out of necessity. He needed money, and his natural aptitude for fighting and overwhelming strength were his only real assets at that time. He did not relish a good fight like most sellswords seemed to. It was merely a means to an end.

Much like the current task.

The wind blew past the mouth of the cave, creating a mournful keening that caused goose flesh to rise on his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention.

Just nerves, he thought.

Dravis often thought about what he’d like to do if he didn’t have to be a merc, and he was pretty certain if it could have it his way, he’d be a painter. It was a hobby he desperately wanted to take up, but the supplies were expensive and he didn’t have the time to dedicate to the pastime to make the expenditure sensible. Still, he thought about it a lot.

Tamara liked art too. She was so much like him, it sometimes hurt.

Time passed. Thirty minutes, then an hour. He kept re-positioning but his rear and legs were soon sore from the hard floor. Still, he waited. The quality of the light changed as mid-afternoon turned to early evening. It began to rain again, more heavily than before. He was grateful for the shelter.

A shadow appeared at the mouth of the cave. Small at first, but growing larger as whatever was casting it drew near. Dravis moved to a crouch, his legs and rear aching. He picked up his bow and nocked one of his two poison arrows.

The dragon landed. About the size of a large horse but longer, this one had pale blue scales, a dark blue ruff of a mane, and powerful-looking claws. It had not yet noticed him as it tucked in its grand leathery wings.

Dravis aimed and let loose the arrow. It soared through the air and found its target, hitting the animal directly in the neck. He notched the second arrow as the dragon roared in surprise and pain. The sound was massive. He could feel it rumbling in his chest and stomach. The second arrow landed in the dragon’s face as it thundered toward him. Dravis dropped his bow and unsheathed his sword, preparing for impact.

The dragon snapped at him, and he managed to sidestep it and slash its neck. It screamed as dark blood spurted, rattling Dravis’s brain against his skull. He felt disoriented as he swung again, making clumsy half-contact. The dragon whipped around and struck him with its powerful tail, sending him crashing into the cave wall.

As he struggled to his feet, the beast whirled around and slashed at him with its claws. It caught him in the chest, and while the armor protected him from a slice it was still a powerful blow. Knocked back into the wall again, this time rapping his head, Dravis saw redness and stars. Before his vision could clear he was struck again, but he managed to stay on his feet, blindly swinging his sword. It made contact, and the dragon screamed again. If he got out of this otherwise unscathed, he would still have to worry about hearing damage.

His vision cleared in time to see the dragon shaking its head back and forth, swaying. The poison was beginning to have an effect. The beast seemed prepared to go down fighting, as it lurched forward, snapping at him again. It missed his head, but just barely. He felt the creature’s hot, moist breath on his face. He swung again, the blade slicing into the dragon’s neck, deep this time. Blood gushed.

The beast made a horrible gurgling sound, swaying before it crashed to the floor with a colossal thud. It continued to move, mustering up the last of its energy to crawl across the cave floor, toward its nest. It curled its body around its eggs and looked at him with those vibrant golden eyes. The two stared at each other, eyes locked, for what felt like an eternity, until its eyes lost focus. The dragon went slack, and moved no more.

Dravis dropped to his knees, breathing hard and trembling, struggling to collect himself. When he was certain his legs would carry his weight, he rose to his feet and approached the dragon’s body.

Trading his sword for his knife, he said to the slain beast, “I’m sorry.”

Dravis pushed the dragon onto its side, grunting from the effort, and made a slit down its pale, ribbed chest. Blood no longer spurted, as the heart was not beating, but it still poured out and coated his hands with an unpleasantly visceral warmth. He cut deeper into the chest, making contact with bone. Going around that blockage, he dug deeper, until managing to locate the heart. He severed the vessels which connected it and pulled the organ free from the body. He wrapped it in parchment paper he had brought for this purpose and deposited the heart into his bag.

He stood there, looking down at his bloody hands. Not knowing what else to do, he wiped them on his trousers.

Looking at the desecrated body, he said again, “I’m sorry.” His voice wavered but did not break.

He wanted to leave behind the memory of the dragon curled protectively around its eggs, but knew he would carry that with him. Yet Tamara would get her medicine, and when it came down to it, that’s all that mattered.

Dravis lit a cigarette and began the trek down the mountain.