"No, no, no, sir," replied Jerric, a balding gentleman in the emissary regalia of the King of Adylonia, accentuating his denial with a frantic waving of somewhat pudgy paws. "Not at all, not at all!"
"What then?" snapped the dragon, a tendril of sulphrous smoke whipping from its left nostril to waft slowly to the roof of the cavern.
"It's not that we wouldn't live up to the bargain if we could, Your Majesty," Jerric groveled, "it's just that, well, we can't."
"Can't?"
Jerric made an effort to pull himself together and wiped at a stream of sweat that trickled down his forehead and over his cheek. "Exactly, Your Magnificence. Since you and King Sempren made the bargain twenty four years ago, we've never missed a payment... a pubescent virgin once per quarter, delivered to the stake outside your wonderfully opulent abode here." The dragon eyed the man and picked up a large bone from a grisly stack of debris nearby. Jerric sped up his explanation as the dragon began cleaning its teeth with the bone. "Um, however, the bargain's details have become so well known that, well, frankly, sir, we can't locate the commodity you require anywhere in the kingdom." The man smiled what he hoped was his most disarming smile and spread his hands helplessly.
"No virgins? Anywhere in the kingdom?" the dragon said, startled. "Do you mean to tell me that there have been no women children born in this kingdom in the last twenty years?" A throaty growl rumbled from it and it shifted its considerable bulk toward the emissary, dislodging another pile of debris from a precarious position and sending a shower of unspeakable detritus around the man's feet. The man gasped and swallowed, immediately regretting it. Trying to control his choking, he struggled to answer.
"We have done everything we can to procure the commodity, Your Incredibleness..."
"Not enough!"
A blast of hot halitosis lifted the man's hair off his pate and caused his eyes to water. The dragon reached down and grabbed Jerric, lifting the man until he was at eye level, nearly thirty feet above the ground.
"Your Immenseness," the man grunted desperately, grinning determinedly through the pain, "we wish to renegotiate our agreement."
"Renegotiate?" The dragon blinked at the man, then began to chuckle. The cavern reverberated with the laugh. "What could you possibly offer in place of the delectable flesh of a sweet young thing?"
"A mate, perhaps, Your Munificence?"
The dragon blinked again. It could never remember having blinked this much in this short a time. But, then again, it wasn't every day a snack made such an offer. It tilted its ear closer to the man and eased its grasp somewhat. "What did you say?"
"A mate, sire, another of your kind."
The dragon sat stunned. "Another?" It lowered the man back almost to the ground and dropped him onto a stack of what might once have been clothing, or might still be garbage.
The man staggered to his feet and futilely brushed at the rubbish that seemed to sprout from his robes. "Yes, Your Elevatedness. We can deliver you a mate."
The dragon shook its head. "Impossible," it murmured, seeming to forget the visitor for the moment. "They're all dead, all of them. The last female died nearly eighty years ago. Sir Dedric killed her while she was bathing..." The dragon suddenly remembered the man and snapped, "Not that I was watching her bathe, or anything. I'm no pervert."
"Of course not, my lord," Jerric agreed with alacrity.
"By the time I got to her, Dedric had sunk his lance into her heart. It was particularly satisfying to crunch him underfoot."
"Most justifiably so, Your Righteousness," the man cooed.
The dragon leaned down until his eye was even with the man's. "What kind of trick are you trying to pull?"
The man was the pictured of pained innocence. "Trick, Your Ferocity? Would I dare come here, to your very lair, on the eve of the quarter anniversary, to trick you? Knowing that with the slightest flick of your tail you could crush the life from my body? Knowing that your breath can be the very fire of vengeance against the wicked? Would any man be so foolish?"
The dragon pulled back a little, mollified. The man ventured to step a little higher on the noxious pile. "We will arrange for the delivery of a mate for you in exchange for twenty five years of freedom," he said as firmly as he could. "We think this is a fair and equitable agreement."
"You do, do you?" the dragon grumbled absently.
The emissary stood uneasily as the dragon considered the proposition. He tried not to think about what he was standing in.
"How soon?"
The question caught the little man off guard. "Excuse me, milord?"
"How soon can you bring me this mate?"
A more relaxed smile began on the man's face.
"Thirty days?"
Jerric cringed.
King Sempren glowered at him through his thick grey eyebrows. "Thirty days!" he roared again.
"It was the best I could do, Your Majesty," the emissary squeaked. "He was very insistent once he accepted the possibility. You might even say he was enthusiastic about the idea."
"I'll bet," Sempren said morosely.
The man standing on the other side of the king spoke up. "I can be on the road within the hour, Your Majesty."
Sempren looked at the speaker. He was over six feet tall, heavily armed and armored, a truly heroic picture in Adylonian colors. A massive claymore was slung over his back, its hilt protruding over his right shoulder. The king stood down from his throne and strode to a large table laden with maps. The only other piece of furniture in the hall, it nearly filled the center of the chamber. On its surface were tokens representing troops dispersed through the kingdom. The armored soldier moved to stand at his side. Sempren sighed. "Very well, Brostal," he said. "Contact King Dedric the Younger. It's time."
The soldier saluted briskly and marched out of the hall, his boots clicking heavily on the stone floor. Jerric watched him go, then turned back to his sovereign. Sempren glanced at the small man.
"I hate this job," he said.
Three days later, King Dedric the Younger welcomed Sir Brostal into his castle.
"Well met, friend knight," Dedric bellowed at the soldier, who knelt at his feet. "How is Sempren, then? Well, I hope."
"He sends his best regards for Your Majesty's health," Brostal pronounced.
"Isn't that nice," Dedric grinned mirthlessly. "But, you didn't come all the way here from Adylonia to wish us good health. What does our cousin want?"
Brostal reached into his tunic and produced the scroll. He stepped forward and laid it in the hand of the prime minister, who stood quietly beside Dedric. The minister broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. There was a moment's silence while the minister read the missive and Dedric sipped at a golden chalice he carried in one hand. Dedric paused as the minister's face went white.
"Disturbing news?" Dedric prompted.
The minister swallowed. "It seems, sire, that King Sempren is requesting permission to hunt in your forests."
Dedric waved his hand magnanimously. "Our cousin is always welcome to partake of our game," he began. "We would be happy to..."
"Begging Your Majesty's pardon," the minister interjected with a bow, "but King Sempren wishes to hunt for a dragon."
Dedric dropped his chalice, sending it clattering to roll to a stop against Brostal's boot.
"He wants to hunt a dragon?" Dedric asked, stunned. Then, as the request sank in, he said, more angrily, "He wants to hunt MY dragon?"
"Yes, sire."
Dedric bolted upright, taking a step toward Brostal. "Go back to your king, knight," he growled, "Go back to Sempren and tell him he'll not be hunting MY dragon! Just because HIS dragon eats human flesh doesn't give him the right to hunt MY dragon!"
"But, sire..." Brostal said, trying to head off the tirade.
"My ancestor gave his life to protect the dragon's eggs, Brostal. It was Sempren's dragon that killed both King Dedric the Great and the she-dragon. Now he wants to hunt the young one?"
Brostal shook his head. "King Sempren does not want to kill the young one, Your Majesty."
Dedric paused in his diatribe. "Eh? Then, what?"
"He wishes to find the dragon to talk to it."
Dedric made a puzzled noise. "Talk to it?" He eyed Brostal suspiciously. "About what?"
"Well, what did he say?" Sempren asked as Brostal straightened from his bow.
"King Dedric sends his most fervent hope that you are well and..."
"Oh, do shut up about all that, and tell me what he said!"
Brostal cleared his throat and adjusted his belt. "King Dedric is willing to allow the hunt..."
"Excellent!"
"...under one condition."
"Crap!" Sempren sank back onto his throne and put his head in his hand. "Damn! I knew I should have let him win that last war. I knew it would back up on me, but no, I had to listen to my counsellors!" He glared at Jerric, who doubled as war counsellor. The emissary looked away quickly and found something interesting in a nearby tapestry. Sempren looked back to Brostal. "What does the little creep want?"
"King Dedric wishes you to relinquish your claims on his provinces in the west..."
"HIS provinces? HIS provinces?"
"...for a period of three years," Brostal finished.
Sempren deflated. "Oh. Three years, eh? Better than some of our agreements in the past." Sempren frowned at Brostal. "Actually, that's a lot better than a lot of our agreements. What's the catch?"
Brostal cleared his throat again.
"Spit it out, knight," Sempren commanded.
"They have, well," Brostal pulled at his collar ineffectively, as it was made of steel, "misplaced their dragon."
Sempren looked at Brostal as if he hadn't heard. Finally, he leaned forward in his seat. "Say that again," he murmured.
"King Dedric was most apologetic concerning it, Your Majesty. He is sure the dragon is still in the forests, but the original lair is empty. Has been for some time."
Sempren was looking at the window behind Brostal. "How the hell do you misplace a dragon?" he asked of no one.
"Nevertheless," Brostal pressed on, "King Dedric is most willing to allow the hunt as requested."
Sempren glared at the knight until even the heroic figure seemed to wilt. "What good is the hunt if the damned dragon is gone, you moron?"
"Excuse me, Your Majesty," Jerric ventured. "Perhaps we can still locate the dragon."
Sempren rounded on the small man, glowering with death in his eyes, and, drawing his sword, roared, "Using what, you imbecile? A dragon divining rod?"
Jerric had a sudden flashback of the hot breath he'd experienced earlier, but grit his teeth and pushed ahead. "After a fashion, My Lord."
Sempren hesitated, then pushed the sword back into its scabbard.
"Your Magnificence?" the small man said, squinting into the darkness of the cave and trying to ignore the softness of the floor. There was a crash and a grumble from within, followed by a brief noxious reek that nearly made the emissary pass out.
"Just a minute," the dragon's voice rumbled out of the dark.
After a few moments of silence, the huge head of the dragon faded into sight from the cave and peered down at Jerric. The nostrils flared and the dragon licked his chops, disloging something meaty from its lips that plopped about eight feet from the man.
"I apologize for interrupting your meal, Your Greatness," the man said. "I'll come back later." He turned to pick his way back toward town. "Of all the times I would have to show up here," he thought to himself, "why would it be mealtime?"
A ten-foot head snaked in front of him, blocking his path. The dragon's eye focussed on him and glinted with interest. "Emissary," it said. "Have you come to deliver my mate?"
"Um, not exactly, Your Benevolence..." The temperature around Jerric immediately rose several degrees as the dragon's eyes narrowed and it bared its fangs. He hurried to add, "However, I do have some very good news." The dragon sniffed him. The man grinned his best grin. "We have made the initial arrangements for the delivery of your mate," he offered.
A forked tongue flickered from between its lips and traced Jerric's form from boots to face. The man resisted stepping away, gasping at the stench of the saliva that bathed him.
"What is more, Your Infinite Mercy," he continued as steadily as he could, "we have arranged for you to see the mate chosen for your approval."
The dragon's tongue retracted and it smacked its lips. Its head tilted to one side, regarding the emissary in what the man could only interpret as culinary interest. He began to see his life flash before his eyes.
"Good idea," the dragon said, breaking him from his nightmare. "When?"
Jerric grinned his best grin again. "At your leisure, Your Largess. Your mate is in the forests to the east of here."
The dragon raised its head and gazed off to the east. It looked back at Jerric. "In Dedric's land?"
"Even so, Your Intuitiveness."
The dragon looked eastward again. "I don't know..."
Sweat popped out on Jerric's forehead at the dragon's hesitation. If it didn't buy into this...
"She is young, Your Virility. Young and beautiful, so I'm told."
The dragon scratched pensively behind its ear, releasing something about two feet long that immediately scurried away into the dark of the cave. "Beautiful, eh?"
"So I'm told, Your Munificence."
"You already used that one," the dragon mumbled absently, still looking eastward.
"My apologies, Your Glory," the man stammered.
"No problem," the dragon conceded. It looked down at him briefly, and its clawed hand suddenly wrapped around him.
"I'll try to do better in the future, milord," the emissary grunted plaintively.
"Stop mewling," the dragon said, uncoiling the rest of its length from the cave. "You're going with me."
"With you?"
"If my mate isn't everything you've promised, I'll be depressed. And I always eat when I'm depressed."
"Oh," Jerric squeaked.
"So, where is she, exactly?"
The emissary bit his lip. "Well, Your Understanding, they did not tell me. I was simply instructed to come here and give you a report on our progress." The dragon bared its fangs at him. "You did give us thirty days..."
It harumphed loudly. "I've changed my mind. I want to see her now."
"Alas, Your Impatience, I do not know where to find her."
"Then I'll have to find her myself. Wouldn't be the first time I had to track a mate."
Jerric refrained from questioning this.
As the dragon's wings spread to catch the wind, Brostal and his men moved quickly. Trackers had already been set up at intervals between the lair and Dedric's estates, but fast runners were all that stood between them and failure. Brostal preferred an open fight to subterfuge, always had, but this was the way Sempren wanted it. He sprinted out of his hiding place as the dragon lifted off the ground and began the pursuit.
Somehow he had always thought flight would be more pleasant. Jerric wriggled in the dragon's grasp and tried not to look down as the thundering of the thing's wings threatened to deafen him and the swaying of the thing's body made his stomach lurch. Besides that, dragons weren't known for their hygiene, and this one had spent a great deal of time inside a cave sleeping in its own filth. Once in a while, even at this speed, the smell would be overwhelming. It was worse when the dragon would hover to get its bearings. Hanging several hundred feet in the air, the emissary would close his eyes and hum soothing lullabies to himself, until he realized that the lullabies made the dragon drowsy. A horrifying vision of falling and then having the sleeping dragon land on him made him decide to switch to marching tunes.
"Quite a repertoire you have there," the dragon told him.
"Thanks," Jerric said, gagging, "you are too kind."
"Haven't had music for a long time," the dragon mused, keeping an eye out for his mate. "Maybe you can come keep us company when we get settled."
A chill went down Jerric's spine. "Your Enormity flatters me," he said in a psuedo-congenial tone. "But I would not think of intruding on your trysting."
"Damn right you won't," the dragon agreed, pulling up to hover. He ignored the groan the emissary gave off. "But you could sing to us while we dined."
Jerric could barely contain himself.
The emissary had despaired of ever touching ground again. His captor covered hundreds of square miles an hour, but the extent of Dedric's domain was far greater than he had guessed. He marvelled at the dragon's stamina, its determination... its bladder control.
"Excuse me, Your Compassion," Jerric ventured, finally.
"What?"
The man swallowed and carefully avoided looking down as he made his request. "Might we alight for just a few moments?"
The dragon swung into a hover and swiveled its head to regard the man. "Why? Did you see something?"
Jerric could not control a wriggle as he tried to get comfortable. Comprehension lit in the dragon's eyes. Without another word, it folded its wings and dropped to the ground, sending the emissary's stomach into his throat.
"Make it quick," the dragon growled. "We still have a couple of hours of light left."
The man nodded briefly and stepped behind a tree to relieve himself, nearly wetting on an Adylonian runner. The runner motioned to the southeast and slipped back into the forest, melding into the green with the ease of an elf. Jerric sighed in relief for more reasons than the mere physical.
"Come on!" the dragon bellowed, rattling the leaves out of some nearby trees.
"I hear and obey, O Vociferous One," the man said, scrambling back to his captor. "And I do seem to..." He choked off the rest as the dragon snatched him up and lifted off. Once he caught his breath, he tried again to shout over the wind. "I remember seeing what I thought might be a promising outcropping to the southeast, Your Acuity."
The dragon swung southeast, saying, "I knew that. I was just making sure there was nothing else to the northwest."
"Of course, Your Unerring Accuracy," Jerric allowed.
The outcropping was actually the top of a large cliff face. The dragon landed at the entrance to a cavern in its base large enough for a dragon twice his size. He hesitated.
"Mmmfff."
The dragon sniffed the air, catching dragonscent and evidence of recent habitation.
"MMMFFF!"
It remembered the emissary and opened its claw. The little man rolled free and sat gasping for air.
"Sorry," the dragon mumbled absently. The man waved his hand and concentrated on oxygenating himself. Cautiously, it approached the cave mouth. The dragonscent became more pronounced as it moved closer.
Jerric's vision slowly cleared, although small dark spots still burst infrequently before him. Through them, he watched the dragon disappear into the cave, the sinuous form slithering quietly into the dark. He slipped away from the cave mouth and into the trees, where he was met by an Adylonian runner. The runner passed him a waterskin, which he promptly emptied on himself. Brostal appeared within a few minutes, followed by five men, all of them showing evidence of hard travel.
"I am very grateful to see you," Jerric told him.
"I doubt Dedric would be as grateful if he knew how many of our runners were in his estates."
The men settled into silence, watching the cave mouth. There was only the comforting sound of the wind in the leaves around them.
"You're a brave man," Brostal said. He looked at Jerric and grinned.
Jerric shrugged. "I do my duty for King Sempren, just as you."
"Still, to face the dragon alone..."
"Actually, I kind of like it," Jerric preened. It was satisfying for a warrior of Brostal's caliber to notice him. But, maybe he'd taken it a little far. Brostal was looking at him differently.
There was a roar from the belly of the cave, echoing hauntingly. The men looked at each other, then back to the cave.
The rush of leathery wings brought their attention overhead. Another, bigger dragon was settling in the clearing before the cave. Its scales were pristine, shining, and wet, as if straight from the bath. It landed and sniffed the air, turning to face the men.
"You are not Dedric's men," the dragon sounded, its voice surprisingly melodic. "Why are you here?"
Brostal prodded Jerric, who balked.
"I thought you said you liked facing dragons," Brostal said through gritted teeth.
"I may have spoken a little hastily..."
Brostal shoved Jerric into the clearing, where he found himself face to face with the new dragon. It settled on its forelegs to examine Jerric.
"G... good evening, Your Pulchritude," Jerric ventured. He hoped this was a female dragon. After all, it wasn't as if you could simply turn a dragon over on its back to check. You had to kind of trust your instincts.
"A politician," the dragon said, amused. "I can tell by the flattery."
Jerric smiled. It was the female. "A servant of His Majesty King Sempren of Adylonia, my lady."
The dragon's head snapped up suddenly, sending Jerric back a step. "Adylonia? Why are you here? What have you done?"
Jerric's resolve broke, and he fled into the trees. He expected at any second to feel hot breath on his neck, and was astonished to realize he had made it out of the clearing. Brostal stepped from of the forest's cover, grabbed him and stopped his cry of alarm with a gauntleted hand. When Jerric looked, the dragon had not changed position. It regarded the men serenely. Jerric noticed the glitter of mirth in its eyes and bristled in spite of himself.
"I beg your pardon," the dragon cooed. "I didn't intend to startle you. It's just that I have had a bad experience with the dragon that lives in your land. I was afraid you might have led it here."
Jerric and Brostal traded a look that wasn't lost on the dragon.
"No! You didn't!" It stood and glanced around. "Where is he? Where?"
Jerric pointed to the cave just as a large form materialized there.
"Emissary! You fool, can't you tell the difference between a male and a female? Even humans..."
The dragon stopped in its tracks as it saw the other. It made a sound the men in the forest later described as something like a squeak, or maybe it was simply swallowing in surprise.
"Thrasac!"
"Krempla?" the male dragon said in a very small voice.
"So," the female dragon said, turning on Thrasac, "you were going to fight Dedric's troops and protect us?" She moved slowly toward the male. The scales along her spine lifted menacingly. "You left me here with the baby..."
"Krempla?"
"... to bring him up all by himself, while you went off galavanting with that dragonelle!" Smoke poured from her nostrils as she neared him.
"She meant nothing to me, honest!" Thrasac asserted, backing into the cave.
"Don't give me that, you..."
There was an explosion of dragonfire as Jerric and Brostal took cover.
"It seems the dragon King Dedric the Elder killed was actually the dragonelle," Jerric explained. "Thrasac knew that going back to Krempla would be suicide, so he decided to concoct the story of Dedric killing his wife to cover his killing Dedric. He moved his lair to Adylonia to avoid Krempla and any embarrassing questions. Krempla moved her lair to raise the young away from any place Thrasac knew."
Sempren leaned back on the throne and drained his ale in a single gulp. He belched in satisfaction, gaining a peeved look from Dedric the Younger, who stood nearby. "Excellent! Very well done, Jerric!"
The little man bowed low. "I wish I could take the credit for this, Your Majesty, but it seems it was out of our hands..."
"May be, my friend, but the long and the short of it is, we'll not be seeing anything of that dragon for some time to come."
"Quite," Jerric agreed.
"What about my dragon?" Dedric asked peevishly. "He was such a cute little fellow."
"I imagine you won't see much of him either," Sempren guessed. "Once they've settled their differences, I think they'll be avoiding us for a while."
"Twenty-five years, at least?"
"Maybe longer. And from now on, any bargains we make will be made with the one in charge."
All three men nodded, remembering Krempla.
David Blalock has been writing science fiction and fantasy for about twenty-five years now. In print since 1990 in various publications, his latest hard copy story is in the anthology "More Monsters from Memphis" (available from Barnes&Nobles website). He lives near Memphis, Tennessee, with his wife, daughter, and computer.
E-mail: jrlthran@memphisonline.com
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