dragon archives 05 - forever a dragon (5 page)

“Kill it, lad!” Grim’s voice came from behind, and Lleland turned, startled. “Now!” Grim yelled. “Before it kills you.” Swinging back, Lleland pulled out another arrow. He notched, drew and released in one smooth movement, aiming a little higher than before. The arrow found its mark, and the dragon twisted on the ground. It turned to look at Lleland, and he could see the light dimming in its eyes.

“Why?” the creature whispered. A few sparks fluttered from its mouth. “I did nothing to you.”

“You killed my father,” Lleland said as Grim ran past him and plunged his sword into the creature’s chest, burying the blade to the hilt. The light in the creature’s eyes dulled, and then it was still.

“Well done, lad,” Grim said. His voice was exultant. “You killed your first dragon.” He walked around the beast, poking it with his foot. “Think how many lives you saved today.” He took a hunting knife from his waistband and held it out to Lleland. “Take yourself a trophy.”

Lleland looked at the knife, then back at the huge beast lying dead on the ground. The dragon was a monster that would surely have killed him, if he had not killed it first. He had done the right thing – ridded the world of a monster. He should be thrilled. But instead he felt empty and dull, as though the light that had faded in the creature’s eyes had somehow cast his own soul into shadow. He pushed the knife away. “I don’t want anything,” he said, before turning and heading down the hill without a backward glance.

It was dark as Lleland walked along the narrow alleys and lanes back to the university. Anabel had always hated the thought of him hunting dragons. As a boy, he had hoped she would be pleased at his determination to rid the world of the beasts that had killed Father, but instead, his intentions had filled her with dread. She’d pleaded with him to put aside thoughts of revenge, but it was impossible to acquiesce to her demands. He’d not been able to stop the dragon that killed Father, but he would do all he could to ensure that others were safe from the monsters. He wondered what Father would have said about the matter. As a youth, he imagined his father’s words: “Well done, lad,” he would have said. “I’m proud of you.” Father, he was sure, would have approved.

The fight was not easy, though. His first kill had been due to luck rather than skill, and most dragons were too wily and cunning to be defeated so easily. Further hampering the efforts was the fact that these days sightings around the city were few and far between. Even when dragons were spotted, only a very few in the city had the skills and training to conquer such beasts, and the dragons were rarely defeated. It amazed Lleland that God would endow such terrible creatures with so many advantages – speed, strength, flight and flaming breath. There was the occasional success, of course, and Lleland himself had killed three dragons in the last dozen years. The second had been an old male, trapped in a cave. It had lacked the will to fight, and Lleland had easily sent an arrow through his tough, old heart. The third kill was the one Lleland remembered with the most pleasure. It had been a bitter fight to the end, and more than once, Lleland had narrowly escaped the burning breath of the creature racing through the air above him. It took a dozen arrows and a few swipes from his sword before the creature had finally breathed its last, fiery breath. Lleland did not escape easily, either – he had burns to his legs, a sprained wrist, a cracked skull and three broken ribs, but the wounds had healed within a matter of weeks. These victories seemed insignificant, however, in light of the many dragons that had escaped, and Lleland despaired that they would ever win the war against the vicious beasts.

To make matters even more difficult, as dragon sightings lessened, so had the fear of the people. Few remembered the horror that had gripped the city when the black dragon had attacked and killed its citizens. And with no new reports of missing maidens, they forgot that dragons were monsters of hell. But Lleland knew that it was just a matter of time before dragons once more emerged from their hidden lairs and started attacking humans. What frustrated him most, though, was the lack of knowledge about the beasts. Who knew how long the creatures lived, or where they kept their lairs? No-one had ever seen a baby dragon, so where did they keep their young? Did they grow in the swamps and emerge fully formed, or were they nurtured by their dragon mothers?

A cold wind had picked up during the afternoon, and Lleland pulled his cloak tighter around his chest as he pondered the questions that plagued him. There was only one person who might have the answers, but that one person was almost as elusive as the dragons. Aaron Drake had revealed none of his knowledge over the years. But now Zachary Drake was in Lleland’s class. Perhaps fate was lending a hand.

The sound of laughter spilling onto the street interrupted Lleland’s musings, and he stopped outside the door of a crowded tavern, left open to allow fresh air to pass into the smoky interior. A group of students was gathered around a table, shouting and laughing, and Lleland recognized some from his class. A tawny head, towering over the others, caught his attention, and he watched as Zach Drake laughed at something. Standing with his fellow students, his strength and power were even more evident than in the classroom, and Lleland shivered, whether in anticipation or trepidation he wasn’t sure. As he watched, Drake lifted his head and turned in Lleland’s direction. Their gazes clashed, and Lleland drew in a sharp breath, as though he had been dealt a physical blow. Drake raised his eyebrows and inclined his head slightly towards an empty table in the corner, and Lleland nodded. Fate was definitely on his side.

Chapter 5

It was noisy in the tavern, and the air was heavy with smoke. The stench of tallow mingled with the smell of cooking, stale ale and unwashed bodies. Scraps of food and the shells of nuts littered the wooden floor, while a rat peeped through a crack in the wall, its nose twitching as it eyed a precious morsel. A cat, its gleaming coat catching the light of the fire, crouched in the corner and watched the rodent intently.

Lleland ducked under the age-darkened timber beams as he made his way between the crowds towards the table where Drake was taking a seat. The wooden surface was marred with gouges, made over the years by those wanting to leave a permanent mark of their passing, and worn to varying degrees of smoothness. Lleland glanced down as he ran his hand over the deeper scratches, his fingers quickly finding the mark he had made more than fifteen years earlier when he had frequented the tavern as a student.

“Are you weary of your friends?” he asked.

Drake raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Would I be revealing too much if I said they can no longer converse in Latin?”

Lleland snorted in amusement. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “Like dogs let off a leash.”

A pair of mugs were slammed onto the table by an elderly crone. A few strands of greasy, gray hair escaped her cap, and she pushed it aside with dirty fingers as she cast a toothless leer in Drake’s direction. “’Ere you go, luv. Give us a kiss, an’ you can ’ave it for nuffin.” She leaned closer, but instead of pulling away, Drake leaned forward and planted a kiss on her puckered lips. Her eyebrows flew up and she drew back. “Ay, wot’s this? Why you so ’ot?” She eyed Drake suspiciously. “You got a fever! Trying to kill me or sumffin?”

Drake laughed. “I was standing by the fire, Mistress. And a student needs all the free drinks he can get.” He gave her a shameless grin as she scowled and marched away.

“She might be the one with something catching,” Lleland said, lifting the mug to his lips. The ale was tepid and stale, but it warmed his belly after the cold outside. “She’s been offering free drinks in exchange for a kiss since my student days. It appears nothing’s changed!”

“I have a strong constitution,” Drake replied. He took a drink of ale. “Have you always lived in Civitas?”

“Born and bred. You?”

“I grew up in the Northern Mountains, although I spent a fair amount of time around the city when I was growing up.”

“The Northern Mountains? You’re a long way from home. From what I’ve heard, it’s very remote.”

Drake shrugged. “We enjoy our privacy.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard!” Drake looked at Lleland in surprise. “You have your own chambers, don’t you?”

“Ah!” Drake leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “So I do.”

Lleland waited for Drake to offer more, but he was silent. “Do you fence?” he asked.

“I’ve had a little training. Why do you ask? Are you a fencing Master as well as Master of Philosophy?”

Lleland smiled. “No. But it seems to me that you are skilled in the art of weaponry. Perhaps you’d like to cross swords with me some time.”

“Are you challenging me to a duel, Master Seaton? Would it be in my best interests as your student to accept or decline?”

Lleland laughed. “When we step on the field, I’ll no longer be your Master. But I’m not challenging you to a duel. There are few opportunities for me to practise with someone with skill.”

“You’re assuming I’m skilled with a blade?”

Lleland answered slowly. “I am. In fact, I think your form belies your strength.” Drake’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “My preferred weapon is actually a longbow. Have you trained in archery?”

“A longbow? No.” Drake leaned back in his seat. “So you’re a scholar and an archer?”

Lleland shrugged and smiled wryly. “I suppose I am.”

“What made you take up archery? I understand it takes years of committed training. Your studies must have left you with little time for such rigorous instruction.”

“It started as a childish interest, but I enjoyed it. The strength and discipline of the sport suit me, and I was fortunate to have a skilled archer take me on as his pupil. I found that my bow and my books worked together to hone my mind and sharpen my intellect. And it’s a useful skill to have when you travel as I do.”

“You travel a lot?”

“I do. Like most scholars, I seek knowledge.”

“What are your main areas of interest?”

“History. The study of people, and where they came from. The events that make them who they are. Everyone is shaped by events of the past, whether they be recent or distant.”

“And what events shape you, Master Seaton?”

Lleland was silent for a moment. “The death of my father,” he finally said. He glanced up at Drake, who was watching him intently.

“Was he an archer as well?”

“No. A mason. He died when I was a child.”

“I’m sorry,” Drake said.

“It was a long time ago.” Lleland waved for another round of ale. “Do you have family in Civitas?”

“Not in Civitas, but thirty miles hence, near the hills.”

“The hills? There used to be dragons in the hills.”

Drake watched as the crone sloshed ale over to the table. “You have an interest in dragons?”

Lleland waited a moment before replying. “Nearly thirty years ago Civitas was attacked by a dragon. Perhaps you’ve heard the tales. It was killed by a man name Aaron Drake.” He paused, waiting for a reaction from Zach, but received none. “Is he a relation?”

Drake stared into the fire. The light of the flames made his skin glow. “The dragon-slayer? You know him?”

“Just his name,” Lleland said. “I was a boy when the black dragon attacked Civitas. It was before your time, but maybe you’ve heard tales of the hellish creature that wrought horror and destruction in our streets. They are monsters that sate their appetites with human flesh, and once they’ve killed, they continue to bring destruction with their blazing breath.” His gaze wandered over to the fire, and he stared into the flames. “They lure you with their words, spoken in human tongue, but they’re cunning and sly. I remember the beast that terrorized our streets, claiming its victims without care or concern for the misery it created.” He pulled his gaze from the blaze. “Aaron Drake’s name was celebrated through the streets, the one who conquered the beast and returned it to Hades.”

Drake cocked his head. “Do you know how he did it?”

“He ran a sword through the monster’s heart, then ripped it out with his bare hands.” He paused a moment. “But you must know this story.”

Drake shrugged. “As you said, it was before my time.” He threw back the last of his mug and rose to his feet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a hard taskmaster who expects me to read three more chapters of
Aristotelis De Caelo
before tomorrow.” He grinned, and with a nod, headed towards the door. Lleland watched him leave with a frown. He seldom talked about the dragon, and never before had he spoken so freely to a student. There was something about young Drake that had loosened his tongue. It was only after Drake disappeared into the darkness that Lleland realized he had not answered his question.

Chapter 6

“Philosophy is the study of truth,” Lleland said, pacing the front of his classroom. It was the last day of class before the Christmas break. “Is it possible to know all truth? Socrates taught that the only knowledge is in knowing that you know nothing. And Aristotle suggested that it is impossible to know anything in its entirety.” His eyes swept over his students. “What do you think?”

“It depends on whether the object being investigated is animate or inanimate,” Dodds said.

“What do you mean?”

He held up a book. “I know the truth of this book. It is rectangular in shape. It has pages, filled with words. The cover is brown leather, and I can measure its dimensions. But it’s harder to know the truth of a person.”

“I agree,” Drake said. “You might know a person as … a murderer, for example, but that person’s mother knows him as a good son, while his lover knows yet another facet of him.”

“What you say is true,” Lleland said. “But what about moral truths. Is it wrong to lie?”

“Of course.”

“What if the lie saves someone’s life?” There was silence. “Consider the question while you’re away,” Lleland said, “and come prepared to discuss it more fully when you return. Class is dismissed.”

The students filed past him, leaving Lleland alone in the room as he gathered his things. He was looking forward to a break from the classroom. There had been little free time in the past few weeks as he spent the evenings marking papers and exams. He had managed to squeeze in a few hours with Anabel each Sunday, knowing how she depended on his weekly visits. The nightmares had continued unabated, and she was looking worn and pale.