Dragon Business, The (15 page)

A
FTER THAT STRESSFUL,
sleepless night, Sir Dalbry led the intrepid and not-so-intrepid dragon hunters to the sinister cave without further ado. Seeing the older knight’s bloodshot eyes, Cullin assumed Dalbry was also growing impatient with the runaround. He doubted King Norrimun could tolerate the stress, hardship, severe exercise, and lack of usual diet for much longer, either.

Dalbry continued to track, pretending to spot subtle details of the dragon’s passage. Whenever the knight got sidetracked, Cullin corrected him, which made his own abilities seem more proficient. He hoped that minstrels might even include his name in a few songs. Maybe Princess Affonyl would hear about him, wherever she was, and wonder what had happened to the handsome young man she had ignored during the Saint Bartimund’s feast. . .  .

As they approached the cave of Old Snort, the landscape became bleak and charred. The soil was poisoned; vegetation had died; trees stood in tall brown dismay as if all the life had been sucked out of them by the roots.

“It smells like the devil’s breath.” King Norrimun’s lower lip trembled. “Affonyl must be even closer to that stench, and she has a sensitive nose.”

Duke Kerrl made a helpful comment. “More likely she’s in the belly of that dragon, where she can’t smell a thing.”

The horses were reluctant to go farther. Pony, not to be outdone, tried to bolt away, and Cullin had to wrestle the reins.

“We’d better leave the horses here and approach on foot,” said Sir Dalbry.

“On foot?” Norrimun sounded as if the prospect of huffing and puffing along the steep ravines was more frightening than facing the dragon itself.

“It’s the only way, Majesty—and we must be cautious so the monster doesn’t sense us.”

Cullin swung down and tied Pony to a tree, before helping Sir Dalbry secure his ash-speckled gelding. Duke Kerrl didn’t bother to wait for the squire’s assistance. It took the three of them together to wrestle King Norrimun out of his saddle.

Sir Dalbry placed a gauntleted hand to his ear, listening intently. He whispered back, “Follow me, but tread lightly. We must not alert the monster to our presence.” They set off, and King Norrimun stumbled through the underbrush. Although he tried to keep the crashing sounds to a minimum, he did not at all succeed.

The brimstone stink grew more intense, and they found a small poisoned spring, a trickle of water oozing out of a crack in the soil, smeared with slimy algae. Steam bubbled up.

“See the evidence of the dragon’s presence,” Dalbry whispered. “Its excrement taints the water supply.”

Their timing couldn’t have been better. Even before they reached the cave, a loud roar and hissing gurgle erupted like a contained thunderstorm. Clouds of dissipating steam rolled across the landscape, and the men scrambled for shelter among the dead trees. Norrimun yelped, “The dragon!”

Thanks to Reeger, Cullin knew about the hot spring and geyser, but since none of them carried an accurate timepiece, they had no way of predicting when the next explosion would occur.

For the first time, Kerrl sounded anxious. “We’re exposed here. If the monster flies out, it’ll see us.”

“That sound is probably just indigestion from the poor man it devoured two nights ago,” Dalbry suggested. “Or maybe even a sheep it consumed last night.”

“It was hunting
us
last night,” Norrimun reminded them. “We heard the crashing trees close to the camp.”

“All night long,” Cullin added.

Dalbry said, “Nevertheless, we’re probably safe at the moment. Giant reptilian monsters tend to sleep during the daytime.”

“I wish Sir Phineal were here,” the king said.

“I don’t,” said Duke Kerrl.

After the geyser sounds died away, the four men crept forward until they reached the dragon’s lair. The cave of Old Snort was as magnificent a location as Reeger had promised: blasted soil, dead trees, spare human bones strewn about—Cullin even recognized a few of them—and a low cave that exhaled hot miasmic odors.

“Typical dragon’s lair,” said Sir Dalbry, “straight out of a natural historian’s fieldbook.”

Norrimun swallowed hard. “So, are we . . . are we going in to kill it? Right away? I’m not sure I have the energy. I didn’t have any breakfast.”

“We should scout the area first,” Cullin said. “Sir Dalbry and I need to make our plan of attack.”

Dalbry gave the others a thin smile as they all headed back to the horses. “Squire Cullin is correct. Dragon slaying is an intense business that demands the utmost concentration. My squire and I require time alone in the forest for the three P’s.”

“Three P’s?” King Norrimun asked.

“Prayer, pondering, and preparation.”

Once they made their way to the horses and Pony, King Norrimun was glad to be far from the dragon’s lair and perfectly content to let Sir Dalbry go through his usual pre-slaying routine.

“We’ll be back before nightfall,” said Cullin as he and the knight set off for some time alone in the forest. “Leave the dangerous work to us.”

They soon lost themselves in the trees and headed straight for Reeger. He had moved his small camp closer to Old Snort and now stood waiting for them with hands on his hips. “All the pieces are in place—let’s finish it up.”

Dalbry took a seat on a stump. “We finally managed to get some elbow room from the duke and the king. Good work, Reeger. The dragon’s lair looks very professional.”

Reeger untied one of the larger sacks from the mule’s saddle and dropped it to the ground. The beast brayed, but again no one could understand what it meant. “If you can convince the king and duke to let you slay the rustin’ dragon yourself, it’ll be much more convenient for all concerned.”

He removed a battered reptilian head from the sack. It was large for a crocodile head, but small for a dragon’s. Some of the stuffing had come loose, a few scales were flaking off, and one of the sanded-antler horns was wobbly. “It’s our last one, and it’s starting to look less than convincing.”

“After we’re done here, we’ll go down to Rivermouth and get more from Ossio,” Dalbry said.

Cullin added in a hopeful voice, “Maybe we’ll even find Princess Affonyl down there.”

Reeger rolled his eyes. “Dalbry, our lad is smitten. He needs to concentrate on more important things.”

“Don’t chastise the boy for having a soft heart. The princess was in a bad situation and solved it as best she could. Duke Kerrl manipulated the king, and I’m all too familiar with that situation. Some immoral nobles can steal more with the stroke of a goose-quill pen than a cutpurse can steal with a knife. Norrimun’s a fool—no question about that—and he tried to save his kingdom by getting rid of his daughter, but I believe Duke Kerrl is far worse. Affonyl was out of good options.”

“I don’t trust the duke,” Cullin said. “It makes me nervous just leaving him with the king.”

“We can’t watch him every minute, lad,” the older knight said. “All we can do is finish our work here, take our reward, and move on.”

King Norrimun didn’t want to be alone in the forest, especially not so near a known dragon’s lair, but he didn’t like being stuck with his ambitious not-quite-son-in-law either.

Shortly after Sir Dalbry and his squire vanished into the forest to make their three P’s, Kerrl sat on a rock and made a show of sharpening his sword. “I intend to have another look at that cave. Maybe I can find evidence of the princess. If the dragon did eat my fiancée, I feel obligated to avenge her.”

King Norrimun was not overly pleased that the duke intended to abandon him in the sinister forest. “Shouldn’t we leave it to the professionals?”

“Mere freelancers sniffing after an honorarium? If we can do the job in-house, we’ll save on expenses—and I’m only thinking of the financial security of our dukingdom. Maybe just the two of us can handle this.” The duke trudged away, flashing a glance over his shoulder. “Look at the silver lining. Even without Affonyl, the land will be in good hands with me,
Dad
. Don’t you worry.”

Norrimun had decidedly mixed feelings, but Kerrl set off with a determined glint in his eye. “I’ll be back in a jiff.”

And he was. Before King Norrimun had a chance to grow too nervous from all the usual terrifying forest sounds, the duke bounded back to camp. His eyes glittered, and he wore an urgent expression. “You have to come with me right away, Dad! I found something. I think your daughter is still alive, and
we
can save her . . . but only if we hurry. I saw a tatter of Princess Affonyl’s clothing, just outside the dragon’s lair, and another piece of torn cloth leading into the cave.”

The king fiddled with his curly beard. The prospect of “hurrying” sounded problematic. “Oh—so has she been eaten?” If so, they wouldn’t need to bother with the rescuing.

“No way to tell . . . but I thought I heard a woman’s voice crying out for help. We may have very little time! We have to go there ourselves.”

“But . . . but Sir Dalbry—”

“Sir Dalbry might not be back until nightfall. What if the dragon gets the munchies before then? We don’t dare delay. Affonyl’s probably anxious for some man to come and rescue her.”

King Norrimun was torn, knowing he was expected to rescue his daughter, but also worried about self-preservation. He would have liked to jot down a list of pros and cons, but there was no time. “All right, we’d better go—but remember, I’m not good at fighting dragons.”

While Kerrl set off at a brisk pace, the king struggled to keep up. Although he wanted to stop and rest, he knew the dragon would be growing hungrier every second, and Norrimun knew how cranky he himself got when he grew peckish.

The king whispered, “What if the dragon sees us?”

“You heard Sir Dalbry—dragons are nocturnal. This one is probably sleeping. We’ll be fine.”

“But if it does come after us, we can’t run faster than a dragon.”

“I don’t have to run faster than a dragon.” The duke narrowed his eyes. “I just have to run faster than
you
.”

King Norrimun stopped, not sure he had heard correctly. “That’s . . . a poor joke.”

“No joke at all,
Dad
. Just a tactless observation.”

Steam seeped out of cracks in the ground, and the stench of brimstone curled out of the cave. Norrimun couldn’t hear any beseeching cries from his daughter, and he wondered if she might be taking a nap along with the dragon.

Drawing his sword, Kerrl strode ahead of the king toward a large boulder beside the mouth of the cave. “Look, over here!” Bending down, he pulled up a tatter of bright blue cloth.

King Norrimun recognized one of Affonyl’s lacy scarves. “Oh, I guess she’s here after all.”

Norrimun drew his sword as well, if only to maintain appearances.

The duke held up a hand. “Listen—that sounds like whimpering from deep inside the cave. Can you hear it?”

“I don’t hear a thing.”

The duke shaded his eyes and pointed into the dark passage. “Look, another scrap of her clothing. We’d better rescue her.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”

Placing a hand on King Norrimun’s back, the duke nudged him forward. “Come, it’s up to the two of us. We’ve got to find her and free her.”