Vannerbehn's Luc

I've wanted to do another fantasy piece for a long time. This one has swords and sorcery. It's a bit of a departure for me, nonetheless. Some of my readers will detect familiar habits, but this story is still a bit different (I think). Hope you'll like it.

***

I was scared shitless.

There's no shame in admitting it, as far as I'm concerned. How would

you

have felt, moving silently through a dark, creepy forest in the middle of the night, carrying two magic sticks - while trying to sneak up on a dragon?

Not my idea of a pleasant way to spend an evening, that's for damn sure. I'm a street rat, born and bred; I don't belong in the woods. Especially not when there's a bloody dragon involved. Ah, I hear you ask: but why was I moving towards said giant reptile, and not away from it, as quickly as possible?

Stupidity can't be ruled out, of course. But mostly it comes from an inability to say no.

Also, it was Gartnait Redbreeks who was asking. Hard fellow to say 'No' to. He got his nickname from the blood which frequently splashed his armour, and then ran down to stain his trousers.

- "C'mon, Kelsen." he'd said, two weeks earlier. "You owe me. You know you do."

I did. He'd helped me out - twice - when a particular plan of mine required a bit of strength. I'm no weakling ... but when I needed to stand on someone's shoulders to reach a certain window ... Gartnait came to mind.

Now he was calling in the favors.

- "What's the job?" I asked.

He looked both ways, to make sure that no one was eavesdropping, or close enough to hear us. "It's a fabulous treasure, man. Fabulous! I have all of the details looked after - all we need is a rogue."

He grinned. "And you're one of the best. Aren't you always telling me so?"

- "What's the job, Gartnait? And who are 'we'?"

- "You'll find out in plenty of time." he promised.

That was how I ended up riding in a wagon for nine days straight, headed south-southwest from the city.

Gartnait was the leader. He was a legend in Kumyr, a man who had twice been offered a captaincy by prominent Pirate Lords. He'd turned them down, because he valued his freedom more highly than any wealth or power they could provide. I liked him for that.

He was a plain speaker, usually, and a loyal friend. Gartnait was also a fearsome fighter. It was the rest of his party I wasn't so sure about.

Silerius was introduced to me as a spell caster. But I'm not an ignoramus, when it comes to magic, and my nostrils function just fine, thank you very much. Silerius was a necromancer. He had that stench, the reek of dead things, that rotting putrescence which tells you immediately that something is ...

off.

He was an arrogant asshole, too.

Benteram was also a caster, who had mastered both offensive and defensive spells. He was cheerful, and down to earth. Likeable enough - but I reserved judgment until I could see what kind of magical weight he could throw around.

The last member of the party was Krang Opek. He was a Potolian ranger, skilled with a crossbow. He was also the party comedian.

- "How many days will it take to get there?" I asked.

- "As many as it takes." said Krang.

On the second day out, Gartnait finally told me what we were going to do.

-"We're going after a dragon."

- "A dragon?" I squeaked. "What kind of dragon?"

- "The dangerous kind." said Krang.

- "We can do this, Kelsen." said Gartnait. "I wouldn't have asked you, otherwise."

He had the grace to laugh when he saw my face. "Sorry, that didn't come out quite the way I meant it."

As we drew close to the edge of the Great Forest, we began encountering farmers who had lost sheep, or even cattle. More than half of them blamed it on the dragon. A few even claimed to have seen it, silhouetted against the moon.

- "A dragon who hunts by night? I've never heard of such a thing." I said.

- "Just how many dragons

have

you heard of?" said Krang.

- "Good point. I'll give you that one." But then I had something else to ask our fearless leader. "Gartnait: how did you come to hear of this particular dragon before it became common knowledge in the city?"

- "What d'you mean?"

- "Do the Pirate Lords know about this? If not, when will they find out?"

He shrugged. "Hopefully not until we're long gone."

- "Oh, no. Tell me you aren't planning on doing a runner. Aww, shit - that's it, isn't it? You aren't planning to go back. Gartnait ..."

The necromancer glared at me. "You talk too much, rogue." he hissed.

Now, I can understand why some people would prefer not to bring their loot back to Kumyr. The Pirate Lords are as greedy as any other government, and routinely claim 10-20% of the booty from piracy on the open sea, trade expeditions, shipwrecks, and just about any venture that makes a profit.

However, where Gartnait and his friends could easily run in the opposite direction, I couldn't. Kumyr was my home, my territory. I knew its streets and its people; hell, I knew its rhythms and some of its most intimate secrets. I couldn't just turn my back on it.

But something told me that Silerius and Krang wouldn't want little old me heading back there, and letting the Pirate Lords know what they'd been up to. For the first time, I began to wonder if I was going to survive this adventure - or if I was even meant to.

I trusted Gartnait. And Benteram didn't seem like a bad guy. But even the horses didn't like the smell of Silerius, and Krang ... well, I wasn't too sure about him.

It wasn't too difficult to find the general vicinity of this dragon's lair. We only had to follow directions to the abandoned hamlet, and go southwest from there. There was a great gash in the edge of the tree line.

It looked as if a warship had been dragged through the forest, firing its guns to do as much damage as possible along the way. Grass and bushes and saplings were flattened, branches thick as my arm snapped off trees, and there were great gouges in the earth.

Sizeable trees had been knocked over, or burnt - but not by fire.

- "Acid." said Krang. He spat.

- "Love-ly." I said.

To my intense relief, it was Krang who did the preliminary scouting, while the rest of us found a place to conceal the wagons and hobble the horses. We camped there that night, and rested for most of the next day.

We ate, and then Gartnait explained the plan.

- "Kelsen goes in first." he said - and at that point, I was ready to vote for a new leader.

"You're a master at moving quietly," he continued, "and I know you can go unseen when you want to."

- "In the city, yes."

- "I have confidence in you." he said. I was glad someone did.

Benteram passed me two sticks. They were about four feet long, with rounded bulbs at the tips. The other ends were sharpened, like a stake.

- "These are magical." he explained. "When you find the dragon, all you have to do is rub the two heads together. Keep the pressure up while you count to three. They'll burst into flame."

- "Really?"

- "Really."

- "What's this spell called?" I asked. I knew a little about magic, and was curious.

- "Benteram's secret recipe magic firesticks." he said. "Now pay attention: once they burst into flame, they're going to give off a lot of light. Try not to look directly at them. Plant the sharp ends in the grounds, if you can. Do one, and then move further on before you stick in the second one, if possible."

- "Back up a bit." I said. "Did you say 'When I find the dragon'?"

The necromancer barked. He might have been laughing; I couldn't be sure.

- "This is pointless. Are we truly going to rely on this buffoon? Our entire plan hinges on his being able to carry out one simple task."

If it's so simple, why don't

you

do it? Of course I didn't say that aloud. It always amazes how people think that my part of my job is something that a trained monkey could do in his sleep. Meanwhile,

their

task is a matter of the utmost skill and timing ...

Gartnait spoke up for me. "Kelsen works well under pressure. And if he needs to improvise ... well, there's no one else I'd rather have in there." That makes one of us, I thought.

"Well be close behind." he said, to me. "The moment you light those sticks, we'll attack. Believe me: we'll get that dragon's full attention. After that, if you see an opportunity to do something useful from behind, or from the flank ... well, feel free."

Gartnait put a meaty paw on my shoulder. "This is the big one, Kelsen. If we pull this off, we'll be able to retire, and live in luxury." He gave me a smile and a wink.

***

That was how I found myself sneaking through an acid-blasted forest in the dark of night. I'd eaten sparingly that day, which would be beneficial if I happened to shit my pants.

I had to wonder why the dragon would leave such a clear pathway to its lair. Was it that stupid? Or just arrogant? Or was it so damned powerful that it wasn't afraid of humans at all?

The forest was utterly still, in one sense. There were no birds, no chipmunks or squirrels. No owls, no creature snuffling or crawling about. That was eerie.

Fortunately for me, it was a blustery night, in terms of weather. The winds were strong, and the rain began to fall. True, the forest blocked most of the wind, and the canopy kept me dry, for the most part. But I appreciated the noise, and the atmospheric disturbance. At that stage, I'd take any advantage I could get.

I wasn't entirely helpless. Forgive me if I've given you the impression that I was completely out of my element. It's true that I would have much preferred to be in the city, rather than this blasted wilderness.

I did have a few advantages.

Gartnait knew that I can move silently. That's because I cheat. I know three spells, you see. Well, four, if you count healing (long story, I'll explain later). So I can heal, or I can cast ...

silence

.

Beautiful spell. You could be three feet away, and you wouldn't hear a blessed thing. I still have to be careful, of course, because you could feel my breath, if I exhale too strongly. If I move too quickly, you might feel a breeze, or see the curtains waver.

But

Silence

lasts for about an hour - and as long as I don't go blundering around at top speed, I doubt you'll even know that I'm there. It's the next best thing to invisibility.

The dark doesn't bother me, either, because I have lowlight vision - probably three times better than a human's. That's right: I'm half-elven.

Yes, I know. In all the best sagas, valiant human warriors win the love of beautiful elven maids, and sire the most attractive children - the half-elven. Well, my dad was an elven adventurer who stopped in Kumyr only long enough to have a couple of drinks and get my mother pregnant. I don't know if she was a prostitute, a courtesan, a barmaid ... but she did know the location of the orphanage, because she promptly delivered me there the moment I was born. The back steps, too; not even the front door.

My last advantages were tucked into half-holsters on my belt. They were a pair of superb dueling pistols, which I had loaded and primed with care. My little sisters, as I called them, had saved my life more than once. I hoped they wouldn't need to do it again tonight.

Low-light vision helps. But it was getting progressively darker as I ventured deeper into the forest, carrying those stupid sticks of Benteram's. I do not have

no-light

vision.

However, my other senses were beginning to kick in. I could almost taste the powerful acrid smell. I'd been expecting something like sulfur, or brimstone, but this was much worse. It was sharper, and made my eyes and nose run. I had to resist the urge to sniffle.

The wind had risen, and while I couldn't feel its effects, down among the trees, I could certainly hear its passage overhead, in the rustling of leaves and branches. As it stood now, I couldn't really see or hear anything.

But I swear that I could

feel

that dragon. It was a physical sensation. My guts were churning, and my mouth was suddenly dry as a desert. I knew, even then, that it was terror. Naked fear. But there was more: an almost palpable sense of wrongness.

Yet I continued to feel my way forward with the tips of my toes. By all rights I should have been moving in the opposite direction. There are no limits, apparently, to the power of stupidity and peer pressure.

The wrongness was directly ahead of me. It was much too close. I veered off to my right, treading carefully. As I said before - my silence spell does not make me invisible.

Then I had a strange thought. If I got directly behind the dragon, and lit Benteram's torches ... would the others be able to see the magical light? Wouldn't the dragon's vast bulk block their view?

But ... if I set them beside the monster, wouldn't my friends come charging in just that much off target? Off centre? All I needed was for the necromancer to run into a tree in the dark, and knock himself unconscious. Yes, you think of all sorts of weird shit when you're trying not to crap your pants.

I opted for slightly off to one side.

By this time, I was so close that I could hear something. It sounded like a log being dragged over a rough stone. My hands were trembling, so I paused and took a few deep breaths to steady myself.

These had better work, Benteram, you fuck. That's what I thought as I pressed the rounded tips of his magic sticks together.

He had neglected to mention exactly how they worked. There was a flash, and a trail of sparks, along with spurts of bright white smoke.

A very large, very unfriendly dragon turned its massive head towards me.

Mother of all the Gods. Teeth. Who knew that dragons had so many teeth? They were bigger than me. Its head was triangular, a huge mass of bone and scale and ... teeth. There was a horn where the nose might have been.

But I was mesmerized by the enormous eye on the side of its head, facing towards me. This was no adolescent dragon. That single eye spoke of cruelty and evil that had taken a century or more - centuries, maybe - to hone and refine.

This was no mindless beast. It was the apex predator of our world, and I was an idiotic intruder into its lair, rubbing two sticks together.

Try counting to three - slowly. Like this: one, and two, and three. Then try doing it while the most malevolent evil monster in all of creation stares at you.

Benteram hadn't lied. Suddenly, there was a shower of sparks, and his magical torches burst into blazing bright light. I was completely blinded. I have no idea what they did to the dragon. (Yes, I know that I wasn't supposed to look at the light; thanks for your help)

I half-heartedly jammed the first stick into the ground, and then dove to my right. I rolled, and kept rolling. I didn't need to be able to see to plunge the second stick into the dirt. Then I rolled again.

I have no idea what the dragon was doing, or why it didn't kill me. Maybe it was blinded, like I was. Or maybe it saw my friends approaching. When I was able to see again, it took me a moment to realize that I wasn't seeing double. Benteram had a second pair of sticks. He and Gartnait were each carrying one.

The necromancer got off a spell. I have no idea what it was. But the dragon howled in pain, and reared up on its hind legs. Then there was a boom, like sharp thunder, as Krang fired an enormous musketoon, or blunderbuss. It sounded like it had been triple-shotted.

The dragon shrieked. It was a horrific, ear-splitting sound.

Benteram cast a spell. Again, I didn't recognize it, but a blue nimbus of smoke formed around the dragon's horn.

Then the dragon struck back. It thrust its head forward, and spewed a line of solid black acid, some ten feet wide, and ninety feet long, that struck Benteram dead on. The top of the wizard's body simply disintegrated. All that was left was the stump of his abdomen and his legs, before those remains toppled over.

The dragon wasn't done. It clawed at Gartnait, who was rushing forward, flapped its wings, which created a mighty gust of wind which nearly bowled me over, and then swung its tail, which I only avoided by diving down and away.

I could see underneath the dragon, between its legs, as Gartnait hewed with his sword, and sheered a claw off the monster's back foot.

The big fighter had suggested that I might be able to contribute, somehow. I didn't see how my rapier, or my dagger would make much of an impression. It would have to be my pistols. But there was no point trying to put a ball through the dragon's scales. I needed to find a soft spot. Underneath, perhaps?

Four skeletal apparitions surged from the ground, directly in front of Silerius. I don't know what Krang what doing, but he couldn't possibly reload that massive musketoon in time.

The dragon retaliated. He clawed at Gartnait - which missed. Then he spewed acid at the necromancer - which didn't. There wouldn't be much of Silerius left, after this fight, to bury. That's assuming that we would be around to bury him.

Somehow, the dragon also found the time to swing his tail again. I wasn't able to dodge completely. It felt like having a building fall on me. I was knocked off my feet, and slammed into a tree trunk, knocking the breath out of me. Somehow, I kept a grip on my pistols.

The dragon shrieked again; either Gartnait or Krang had made it pay. I twisted my head to see. Despite the necromancer's untimely end, his summoned skeletons were advancing against the dragon. Being undead, they had no fear.

I had enough of that for all of us. From a sitting position, I leveled my pistols. Aiming for the joint where the dragon's wing was connected to its body, I fired both sisters.

One bullet was deflected. I clearly heard the 'Ping!' sound. The other shot might have hit. The dragon seemed to flinch. Oh, wonderful. I stung it, and succeeded in reminding it that I was still here.

I rolled to the side, rose to my feet, and began frantically reloading.

The big musketoon boomed again - Krang was still active. The dragon crushed a skeleton with its claw. Gartnait chopped, two-handed, at the monster's leg.

I ducked, more out of instinct than anything else; the dragon's tail whistled over my head, and snapped a tree in half. The great beast launched another stream of acid, but I couldn't see if it struck its target. Then it bellowed in pain as Gartnait carved a mighty gash in its underbelly.

I didn't see it happen, but the dragon must have bitten Gartnait. His armor showed several punctures, and it was literally smoking - probably from the acid on the great beast's teeth.

Unfortunately, I saw the dragon's next attack quite clearly, just as I finished reloading my second pistol. The monster's jaws closed on Gartnait's shoulder, and tore it - with his arm - from the rest of his body. A swipe of a claw finished him off.

The dragon paused for a moment, then began to shuffle sideways, laboriously turning its huge body. From the way it turned its back on the path into its lair, I concluded that Krang no longer posed a threat.

Then it faced me, its massive head tilted so that it could glare at me with one eye. The sheer malevolence of that gaze nearly floored me.

I remembered, just then, a conversation from years ago, with two other child thieves, when we were picking pockets and stealing food in the market, just to survive. Strange how the mind works, isn't it?

The odds were strong that all three of us would end our lives on the gallows. We were discussing how we ought to behave in our final moments, if indeed we ended up on the scaffold. There would be an audience watching, of course.

- "Who gives a shit?" said Marnio. "Yer dead! What does it matter how ye die?"