The clip-clop of hooves on the ground was loud in the quiet afternoon air. Shadowstride whickered restlessly, kept to a steady pace up the hill. The path ahead curved left, so Sir Edmund murmured to his mount, guiding him around the bend.
The path continued upwards. To the left was a patch of land stretching to the edge of the hill. Overgrown grass covered the entire area, except for a strip of dirt branching from the path, leading to the ruins of a guard tower. He rode over to that dilapidated tower, and once there, slid off Shadowstride. What looked like a barred window in a massive chunk of stone lay on the ground, the corresponding hole visible in the tower above them. He tied the stallion to one of the window's rusted metal bars, and then stroked the beast's mane affectionately.
"I'll be back soon," he promised.
After one last glance over his shoulder, he trudged back to the path. There was bit more to hike up before the top of the great hill, but finally, he crested it.
Grandruin lay ahead, its blackened walls crumbling, the towers beyond missing chunks of their exteriors.
The nearby villagers had kept their distance even before the arrival of the dragon, believing the once-formidable keep to filled with the vengeful spirits of the family that had lived and ruled from there until a brutal revolt launched by those villagers' ancestors had resulted in every member meeting a gruesome death. Once the dragon had claimed Grandruin for himself, haunted had become dangerous, and there was a tangible reason for them to stay away.
But a damsel was trapped in Grandruin, and Sir Edmund was a sworn knight.
It did not matter that his glory days were firmly behind him. The slight paunch at his belly and encroaching grey in his otherwise rich brown hair meant nothing.
As the younger knights and those who frequented the sparring arenas of home could attest to, none of his martial talents had waned, even as his body had begun to show off the effects of age. His sword still swung true, and his bow still aimed accurately. Only the latter was with him now, perched on his back.
The dragon who had claimed the castle for its home was but an obstacle in his quest to save the damsel. Others had tried, and all had failed miserably.
But success would be his.
He paused as he reached the outer wall of the keep. Scorches stained the rock where the dragon had made his fury known. Already, there were a few corpses, charred almost entirely into ash.
A breach in the wall provided a path into the inside of the keep. Several guard towers stood, half-crumbled, while another wall waited ahead. The gate was open, however, the massive door knocked out of place, on its back further past the threshold.
Great chunks of stone lay about in the spacious inner yard. A few more charred corpses were strewn here and there.
The castle itself waited ahead, its many towers also bearing numerous scorch marks, streaked across the stone in wide swaths of black.
The walkway up to the entrance of the castle was cluttered with more chunks of stone and more dead men.
The inside of the castle boasted plenty of space, but much of it was ruined. Almost all the ceiling was missing. The floor fell away in a few spots, the entire left side crumbling down to the lower level, a jagged line of stone left over.
He walked carefully, ready to take up his bow if need be.
To kill a dragon, one needed the right equipment, a not insignificant amount of men, and luck as well.
But his priority was not killing the dragon.
He understood, unlike the others who had attempted this quest, that it was about the damsel, not the beast holding her captive.
So, he had ignored the first two prerequisites. There were no men with him, even though many would have followed him. His armor was back at home. A leather tunic, emblazoned with his family heraldry, covered a simple shirt. His trousers were simple as well, as were his boots. He had eschewed a helmet, as it would not protect him from dragon fire.
Speed would be the order of the day once the damsel was rescued, since hopefully, he would not have to face the dragon until it was absolutely necessary. First would come caution, so he exercised it, creeping through the hall, avoiding the rubble that might crunch under his gait.
A soft, slow hiss stopped him in his tracks.
It built, filling the empty space, swirling up into the air.
And then it stopped.
In its place moments later came a deep, reverberating voice.
"I smell...an intruder..."
He ducked behind a heavy piece of debris, peeking out from the makeshift cover to scan the hall.
"Who dares venture into my sanctum?"
The silence that followed that ominous question was thick and tense.
And then it was unceremoniously broken.
"WHO DARES!?"
The floor shook from the might of that voice. Sir Edmund glanced around, searching for its source.
The voice came again, dripping with contempt.
"Are you brave or simply deluded?"
As loud as the voice was, reverberating in the remnants of the hall, he found it difficult to tell where it was coming from, but he kept looking around.
"Have you not seen the others who came for her?"
He looked over to the edge of the remaining floor.
"Their bodies are but ash. I burned every one of them, heard their screams, smelled their charred flesh."
He crept towards it, staying low.
"You will be next, little knight."
As he neared the edge, he spied a mass of shiny black scales shifting below it.
A strong whoosh knocked him backwards as the dragon launched itself into the sky. He hit the stone hard, but rolled to his feet, and crouched low, peered through the clouds of dust that had been kicked up by that sudden flight.
The beast was climbing higher, that massive silhouette standing out starkly against the sky.
As he watched, it arced back around, straight for him.
He grabbed his bow, nocked an arrow, and aimed.
An arrow flew, followed by another. Both were lost in the shadow the dragon cast.
From the ground, he could see the red of its malicious eyes.
And then it opened its maw, revealing row after row of jagged teeth. A fiery swirl was coalescing in the back of its mouth.
He leapt off the remaining floor.
The rush of fire was blazing, but it missed him. That heat was formidable enough to make sweat break out over his back.
He landed on the lower level, not too far of a drop, and set off at a run across to a set of stairs that led back up.
"Run, little knight, run!" the dragon called. "Your arrows are useless against my flames!"
Another burst of fire snuck through the fallen-away portion of the floor, licking the space where he had been landed.
The stairway brought him out into a small courtyard. There were more chunks of stone laying around, and more bodies as well.
As he dashed towards the door at the other end of the courtyard, a whoosh of air from behind him caught his attention.
The dragon was atop the far wall, its wings cocked back, its neck a graceful arc. Again, it opened its mouth, another fiery swirl building there.
He dove through the door, the heat from the flames tickling him.
"This quest shall end in your death, fool! The woman is mine!"
The voice had come closer and closer. He glanced over his shoulder to see the beast poke its snout over the threshold.
"Feel the wrath of my fire!"
The knight was already through the next doorway but heard the whoosh of the dragon's blazing breath.
The castle was a maze of rooms, courtyards, and corridors. He steadily worked his way to the damsel, dodging the dragon and its blasts of flame all the while, sweat building underneath his clothes from the heat those blasts gave off.
Finally, he stopped briefly in one of the courtyards. Even when his route had been determined by the dragon's pursuit, he had made sure to track his progress, and knew that he was in the northwest corner of the castle.
The tallest and least damaged of the towers stood nearby.
The damsel awaited, so he continued towards the doorway at the other end of the courtyard.
A crunching sound came from behind him. A quick backwards glance showed the dragon climbing atop one of the courtyard's crumbling walls, its claws scraping against the stone.
"Time to meet your gods, fool!" the beast crowed, rearing its head back to prepare for another spray of flame.
Sir Edmund rushed through the door and dove sideways. The fire burst through the doorway, scorching the walls, thankfully not close to him. Even from several meters away, the heat was intense, the air shimmering with great warmth.
In front of him, stairs wound around out of sight, so he bounded up. A few steps were crumbled away, forcing him to jump up several times. His body complained at the strenuous activity, but he ignored it.
The stairs ended at a landing where one wall was entirely blown off, the dragon's silhouette dark against the sky as it flew by. Ahead of him was that last door, behind which the damsel awaited rescue.
The door was old and heavy, and the knob was missing, but he pressed his shoulder to it, and pushed with all his might, forcing it open.
Beyond was a small room, furnished with only a cushioned stone bench.
The damsel was sitting there. When she saw him, her eyes widened.
"My lady," he said respectfully, extending a hand, "I have come to rescue you."
She stared at him for a moment, her expression of wonder and awe, as if thinking him some vision or dream.
And then the dragon roared nearby, making her flinch in fright.
"Then I shall go with you," she said, taking his hand hurriedly.
She followed him down the stairs, carefully hitching up her dress to jump down past the missing steps.
When they reached that last courtyard, now their first open space, Sir Edmund peered out into the area, checking for the dragon.
"Wait here," he told her, and stepped outside.
The quiet in the courtyard was ominous, but the dragon was nowhere to be seen.
He ducked back inside and held out his hand to the damsel.
"You'll have to trust me."
She nodded nervously, her hand clasping around his, the grip surprisingly strong. In the few seconds before they dashed into the courtyard, as she peeked out of the entryway, he took in the sight of her.
It was obvious that like him, she was older, but much like his combat skills had not diminished, her beauty and grace had not been affected by age. The former was evident in her delicate features, the serene blue of her eyes, the slender bridge of her nose, the smooth skin of her cheeks, the subtle pout of her lips. The latter was evident in the way she carried herself, the quiet dignity noticeable even with the anxious expression that was plastered all over those delicate features. His gaze roamed downwards and noted that the extra weight that had come with age had made her figure pleasantly voluptuous.
