The Pixilated Peeress (20 page)

             
As he was dragged toward the block, Thorolf kept raising his bid. But Wok was obdurate, even when Tho
rolf had reached his ceiling of ten thousand. When the trolls had forced Thorolf to his knees and one had pulled his head by the hair across the block, a
n
d the butcher-executioner had raised his cleaver, Wok said:

             
"This time, methinks, ye speak sooth." In Trollish: "Let go!" To Thorolf again: "How mean ye to slay this beast? Hast a magical sword?"

             
It occurred to Thorolf that if he had stopped at a lower
ceiling, say five thousand, Wok would probably have accepted that offer. But it was too late for that now. He said:

             
"Nay; merely the common hanger your people took from me. Against a beast so large and tenacious of life, 'twere no more effective than a
flywhisk. I have another scheme, for which I shall need a goodly length of braided leathern rope, some sapling trunks, and the help of your lustiest trolls."

             
"Ah! I do perceive ye plan some sort of snare. Ye shall have your chance, albeit it grieves me t
o have the goodly repast ye'd furnish end up in the dragon's belly instead of in my people's. Blame me not if the beast escape your trap and devour you!"

             
"I
n that case, I shan't be in condition to blame any
one. Meanwhile
—
"

             
"Aye, aye, ye shall have foo
d and lodging until your gin be ready. I trust your finical lowland gorge rise not at roasted goat!"

             
"Thanks," said Thorolf. "One thing more. I relish not the idea that, after I have overcome your dragon, you will find some further pretext for devouring
me."

             
"Sirrah! I brook no insults
—
"

             
Thorolf held up a hand. "Easy, good my chief. All I ask is that each of us swear by that which he holds most sacred
—
I by the antlers of our god Kernun, you by the spirits of your ancestors."

             
Wok flinched. "How know
ye that I cannot break such an oath?"

             
"I study these matters," said Thorolf with feigned nonchalance. He privately blessed Professor Reccared, who in his lectures had included this bit of lore along with much misinformation about the trolls.

             
"Oh, very well," grumbled Wok. "Ye shall swear first."

-

             
Five days later, the rising sun was tinting the snows on the eastern flanks of the peaks a rosy pink, when a gaggle of golden-furred trolls, bearing ropes and poles and led by Thorolf, neared the
dragon's cave. The mouth of the cave was a darksome blot on a rocky hill
side. The scree that had spilled out included stones of all sizes, from pebbles to boulders.

             
Motioning the trolls to stand back and remain silent, Thorolf approached the cave mouth.
He cocked an ear toward the darkness within and stood immobile, listen
ing. At last he made out an intermittent sigh that was not quite a snore.

             
"Good!" he whispered. "Dragon sleep. Put poles here and here
...
"

             
When places were found into which the po
les could be thrust between the stones of the scree, Thorolf di
rected the rigging of his snare. Then he divided his score of trolls into two equal parties. Each group took the free end of a rope and retreated to one side of the cave, where they hid behin
d
boulders.

             
Back at the cave mouth, Thorolf loaded one of the trolls' slings. He shouted: "Ho, dragon! Come forth!"

             
Receiving no reply, he whirled the sling and let fly. The slingstone struck a wall of the cave and rebounded, rattling. Thorolf repeated
his challenge.

             
This time he heard a sleepy grunt. He fitted another stone and slung it; he was rewarded by a meaty thump. There was a loud, groaning roar, followed by a scrab
bling of claws on stone.

             
"Come on, dragon!" yelled Thorolf. "Here I am!"

             
Th
e scrabbling came closer; and presently a large, pearl-gray, reptilian head emerged from the cave, its golden eyes blinking in the sudden sunlight. The dragon had a long crocodilian muzzle and jaws full of curved ivory spikes. Its powerful scaly legs, fur
r
ed with silvery bristles, raised its belly a good yard above the ground.

             
"Yah! Yah!" shouted Thorolf, capering. The mon
ster shook its great head as if it could not believe its gemlike eyes. Then, roaring, it started for Thorolf at a shambling trot, yawn
ing to show its scarlet gorge.

             
Thorolf scrambled down the rocky slope, guiding the dragon's course between the poles on either side of the cave. From the poles hung two large loops of rope. As the scaiy head penetrated the loops, Thorolf shouted: "Pull!"

             
The trolls popped out of hiding, each grasping a sec
tion of rope. All backed away from the dragon, so that the two loops, falling from the poles, tightened around the reptile's neck.

             
The dragon checked its rush and swung its head right and left. When
it lunged to its right at the trolls pulling on the rope on that side, the trolls on the other side braced themselves and pulled. The dragon then lunged to the left, with a similar result. It swiped at its neck with one of its forefeet, trying to get its
claws beneath the strangling loops. Thorolf held his breath; if the beast severed either loop, he would call to the trolls to flee and take his own advice.

             
Just then six Rhaetians, clad for mountaineering in jackets of festive reds and greens and poling
themselves along with hooked staves, hove in sight around one of the larger boulders at the bottom of the scree. They spied the dragon just as the dragon sighted them. With yells of terror, they ran back down the slope, casting away their staves.

             
At the
sight of fresh meat fleeing, the dragon seemed to forget about the snare and the trolls. With a mighty roar, it started down the scree, jerking the trolls off their feet and weakening their grip on the rope. The dragon plunged after the fleeing mountainee
r
s, drag
ging behind it the ropes and the few trolls who had retained their grip. These came down the slope in great leaps to keep up with their quarry. After them ran Tho
rolf and the remaining trolls. Thorolf shouted: "Catch rope! Catch rope!"

             
This prov
ed difficult, since on the slope the dragon moved as fast as man or troll. At length the whole pro
cession was brought to a halt by a crag protruding from the lower slope. Thorolf shouted in Rhaetian and then in Tyrrhenian:

             
"Not that way! You'll be corne
red!"

             
The climbers continued on until they fetched up at the bottom of a concave angle in the crag. Here they huddled helplessly as the dragon lumbered toward them.

             
Under Thorolf's shouted directions, the trolls whom the dragon had shaken off secured t
heir grip on the rope once more and braced themselves to restrain the mon
ster. He had, Thorolf realized, underestimated the drag
on's strength; he should have employed at least twice as many trolls.

             
Closer came the dragon to the huddled Rhaetians, who s
creamed in terror. Thorolf thought, while he did not crave a hero's death, since he had started the epi
sode he bore a responsibility.

             
He sprang in front of the dragon with drawn sword. "Get back!" he shouted and whacked the dragon's muzzle with the flat
of his blade.

             
The dragon blinked, jerked back, and gave another roar. As again it extended its fangsome head, Thorolf struck it again. When it tried to turn away to one side, he hit it on the side of its muzzle; when it turned the other way, he hit it o
n the other side.

             
It seemed to Thorolf that he had been whacking the scaly muzzle for hours, although the time was less than a quarter-hour. Then the dragon, evidently suffering a sore nose, tried to back away. Dragging screeching trolls after it, it lab
oriously turned, tangling the ropes, and began to plod back up the slope.

             
As it forged on toward the mouth of its cave, it slowed like an unwound Rhaetian clock. Halfway to its goal it collapsed on the stones, breathing in gasps. The chase, thought Thoro
lf, must have winded it, and to drag a score of trolls back up the hill with its windpipe half strangled by the two nooses was too much for its rep
tilian constitution.

             
"Tie mouth!" cried Thorolf. Soon the dragon's jaws were bound together by several turns of spare rope around its muzzle.

             
"Now legs!"

             
In another half-hour the dragon had been rolled over on its back and its limbs bound to its body. It protested by feebl
e writhings. The troll whom Thorolf had ap
pointed foreman of his crew said:

             
"Now kill?"

             
"No kill. Take Zurshnitt, sell."

             
The troll snorted. "Lowlanders crazy!" A gabble broke out among the trolls as they digested Thorolf's intentions.

             
Thorolf said
: "More rope, more poles. Make sled."

             
As the trolls scattered to obey, the Rhaetians ap
proached Thorolf. Their leader, in an orange jerkin, said: "A troll doth tell me ye roused this beast from its lair and sent it charging after us! This is an outrage!
"

             
"I was merely capturing the dragon," said Thorolf, "when you came along. If you had watched where you were going
...
"

             
His words were drowned out by a chorus of protest: "Endangering peaceful citizens!" "Reckless folly!" "Gross negligence!" "Ye shall
hear from mine attor
ney!"

             
When, shouting, they pressed close to Thorolf, he roared back: "I faced the creature at my own risk to protect you lubbers! Now get you hence, or
...
"

             
He drew his sword. At the sight of the blade, the unarmed Rhaetians stragg
led off, muttering threats of litigation.

             
The setting sun was painting the western slopes of the peaks with streaks of crimson when the trolls conveyed the trammeled, silver-gray dragon to their campsite. Beginning to recover from its earlier exertions,
the beast protested by writhing and grunting through its nostrils. Chief Wok appeared, saying:

             
"By my grandsire's ghost, what is th
is? I thought ye might come back with the hide and flesh, but not a live, wriggling monster! Think ye to make a pet of it? I warn you, 'twill never become a safe housemate!"