dragonsbane
Have I told you about the time my good friend Drysi killed a dragon? They were supposed to be extinct--relics of the days before the Architect built the Spire and banished all the monsters--but monsters, it turns out, are more stubborn than one might hope.
It was deep winter back then, after the war had broken out over who would rule the city that held the fate of the world in its greedy little hands but, critically, before Drysi and her band of warriors had abandoned the cause of Princess Nevena IV. And it was proving to be a bitter winter indeed, with blizzard after blizzard hammering the coasts, rendering the roads impassable and threatening both armies with a foe more deadly than any they had faced before: the unrelenting cold.
Her Serene Highness, who thought of herself as a woman of the people, actually did spend that winter with the army rather than withdrawing to some friendly castle. We spent so many evenings huddled around a fire in a hastily erected cabin, wondering what to do about provisions that dwindled faster than expected, debating whether to risk a surprise attack on the enemy using the white-out conditions to cloak our movements.
The Princess craved action, and it was always Drysi--steadfast, trustworthy Drysi--who would caution that the soldiers were not equipped for a winter campaign, that taking action would cost lives. Already the cold had claimed many lives, and that was in camp, where there were still provisions (however meager) and fires to provide warmth. And few indeed had any clothes suitable for winter, much less one as harsh as this one.
So Nevena, in secret, conceived of an alternative plan. She had always been eager to explore the old secrets of the land, and she was wise enough (or foolish enough) to know that it is best to keep secrets close. I have no idea which, if any, of her inner council knew that she had obtained an old Highland ritual to awaken a sleeping dragon and turn it loose on one's enemies; I only know that she did not take her most trusted guards with her when she stole away from camp one evening.
It took some searching to find Drysi, who had been posted to keep watch that night, and then more to convince her to leave someone she trusts to watch her post. And so, wrapped in our winter cloaks--hers in the distinctive black that she wore even in the depths of winter, mine in a pristine white--we set off in search of the errant Princess and her party.
I'm not sure I could tell you why I sought Drysi in particular, except that she was my friend and she was the only member of the Princess's inner circle who seemed willing to directly contradict her wishes. Nevena held a power over her closest counsellors that had always made me uneasy--it was this shared unease that had first drawn me to Drysi. And seeing the leader of our army vanish suddenly into the night sounded alarm bells in my mind that refused to be quieted by the assurances of her most trusted servants.
It did not take a gifted tracker to follow the Princess and her small party, though Drysi certainly was one; the snow was thick enough that Nevena's tracks not so much footprints in fresh snow as bodies ploughing through piles of it. This also eased our passage considerably--a blessing, given how many times I stumbled and fell or nearly fell into a snowbank.
The storm still raged, and even with such an obvious trail to follow, I began to worry that we would not be able to find our way back; but Drysi seemed confident and anyway, thoughts of our own safety paled in comparison to concerns about what Nevena was doing this far from her army's encampment at night in the middle of a blizzard.
It must have been several hours of trudging through the snow when we finally paused to rest for a moment's breather. Drysi had been wise enough to bring a bottle of hot tea, kept warm using some of the Spire's alchemy, and made me drink a few cups. "You could have stayed at camp," she said.
"I almost wish I had," I said. "Almost."
She rewarded me with a rare smile, then turned to look at the errant Princess's trail. "It strikes me that she is heading towards the city."
It took me a moment to realize the significance there--the city, where the enemy's army would be sheltering for the winter. It was the great trade city of the Heartland, with a port that served merchants from all of the city-states that made up the Commonwealth, as well as those who came from the Provinces and beyond; it also was the terminus of one of the old imperial highways, so it served as a major hub for trade both by land and by sea. The city had declared for Nevena early in the war, and had fallen to the usurper in the autumn; now Nevena's army camped here to ensure that they did not gain access to the inland via the old highway. Two days' march away, or one night's worth of desperate stumbling through the snow.
"Perhaps she's planning to stir up some unrest?" I suggested.
"Doubtful."
When we had both lifted our spirits with tea and rations, we continued our pursuit. And it was several more hours before we finally found Nevena, accompanied by two individuals whose identities I could not make out through all the bundles of winter clothes--if, indeed, I ever knew them. They had made a fire, spitting and hissing and smoking in the driving snow, at the top of a strange clearing atop a hill; Nevena was singing (or perhaps chanting) in the old Highlander tongue, holding a ritual dagger in one hand.
Drysi and I hid in the surrounding woods and watched; then, Drysi gripped me by the arm and looked at me with fear in her eyes. "She's trying to wake a dragon," she hissed, then staggered to her feet and ran towards the fire circle.
One of Nevena's companions stepped in front of Drysi and intercepted her; the two fell to the snow, grappling, and I could not tell whether she was winning or losing. Then the other man moved to join the melee, and I emerged from my hiding spot, my pistol trained at him. "Two against one hardly seems fair, no? But if you want someone to fight I'll gladly fence you."
Then Nevena's song came to an end, and she said, in that too-calm voice she used when things were not going the way she had anticipated, "There's no need for that, we're all civilized here." The way she emphasized the word 'civilized' made me bristle on Drysi's behalf. "Captain Drysi, Lady Avelred, as ever, I appreciate your concern, but--"
There was a great rumbling sound from below the hill, and all of the rest of us froze where we were.
"--the ritual is complete, so my decision, I'm afraid, is final."
"You're a damned fool, little Seva." I was never able to determine for certain if Drysi's nickname for the Princess was a term of endearment or not, but it certainly didn't sound like one that night. "Where did you even find that ritual? No Highlander--"
"You may wish to focus, love," said Nevena. "Dragons come first, surely."
Drysi stood up, shoving her former opponent as she did so, and approached Nevena. "You're wrong about at least one thing. The ritual isn't finished." The rumbling continued, shaking snow from trees and causing the ground to shake. Drysi took the opportunity to snatch the ritual dagger from the Princess's hand.
"What--"
"You need blood." Drysi rolled up a sleeve and slashed the dagger across her exposed forearm, letting the blood drip into the flames, and called out something in the Highland tongue--her native tongue. At that moment, a great gust of wind blew, dousing the flame, plunging the hilltop into darkness and blinding me to everything except the constant driving snow.
The rumbling continued. I lost my footing, I heard the voices of the others crying out. When I was able to stand again, I was unfathomably cold, and I could barely make out, through the snow, two shapes. The first was familiar: Drysi, my friend and companion, standing tall. She had lost her hat somehow, and her long dark hair was flowing freely behind her, and she had her spear in hand.
The other figure was a dragon. It was truly massive--its head and neck alone were bigger than Drysi--and it was white as the snow around it, making it almost impossible to see. It was facing her, apparently sniffing at her as she held out her hand--the one she had cut to offer blood to the fire, I assumed.
I fired my pistol, and it turned to face the sudden noise; but though the bullet struck it square in the head, it seemed not to notice the attack. It made a snorting sound, then abruptly turned away, sending snow spraying across the hilltop, and with a beat of its wings took to the skies. Drysi, seeming to expect this, used the spear to vault herself onto the dragon's back. It seemed to ignore her as she clung desperately to its neck and flew towards the nearby city.
So I dropped the pistol in the snow and ran. Against the sky and the city lights I could just make out their shapes: the dark shape of a rider on the white shape of an impossible creature. Drysi removed her cloak and wrapped it around the dragon's head, then leapt off, dangling from the cloak. The dragon veered sharply and began flailing, trying to regain its vision, but to no avail: it flew headlong into the city wall below, moments after Drysi dropped off and landed in a snowbank.
It lay stunned in the snow for what seemed an eternity. I wondered if it had died from the impact, but Drysi rose, her saber in hand, and, pulling the cloak aside, thrust it into the beast's head, precisely where my bullet had struck earlier. It jerked violently, snapping the sword's blade off at the hilt and sending Drysi flying, and then, with a mournful cry, it lay still.
I ran to Drysi's side; she forced a smile when she saw me, though it immediately became a grimace of pain. "Little Seva isn't going to be happy she'd made a dragonslayer out of me."
"No, I suspect she won't." The sound of many footsteps crunching in the snow approaching alerted me to the fact that we weren't alone. I turned, and smiled my best smile--an effect I'm afraid was likely diminished by the layers of winter wear leaving most of my face obscured. "I'm pleased to report we've taken care of your dragon problem."
I'll skip the parts that followed: how the enemy's army didn't quite imprison us, how the citizens hailed us as heroes and ensured that we were rewarded--matching charms and sabers containing the dragon's essence--or how the storm somehow got worse after the dragon's fall, as if the land itself were outraged at what had happened. Stories for another day, perhaps. In the end, a captain in the enemy's army let us escape under cover of darkness--though the storm still raged on, so thick that we could have fled in broad daylight with no one the wiser.
Drysi's injuries hadn't yet healed but our new charms provided some protection against the bitter cold, and she was too clever a tracker to be disoriented by even a storm like this, and too stubborn to be slowed down by some bruises and cracked ribs. So it was that, just before nightfall, we limped back to Nevena's encampment, numb from exhaustion, and were escorted by the sentries to her cabin.
A war council was underway, as it so often was: the Princess and her closest advisers. The renewed vigor of the blizzard also saw many of the soldiers outside, shoveling snow to try to keep the paths clear. The intervening days of our not-quite-captivity had not been kind to any of them, if the tired eyes and haggard expressions were any indication.
As soon as she saw us, Nevena's expression went carefully neutral. "Everyone but Drysi and the Countess, out."
I could see a protest form on some of her advisers' faces, and one by one on each of them that protest died as they bowed their heads, murmured acquiescence, and withdrew into the cold morning. My heart broke for them--such strong wills, bending to the quiet fury of the Princess they had given so much to. When they were gone, she gave us an unfriendly smile. "Drysi Dragonsbane, is it? Quite the name you've earned yourself. You must be proud."
"I did what I had to to protect the innocent lives you were threatening," said Drysi. "I--"
"Yes, yes, you have no interest in praise. You've said." Nevena took a long breath, theatrically composing herself. "Fine. I'm prepared to forgive your little treason, if you'll answer one question for me."
My chest tightened at the word 'treason.' But Drysi simply shrugged. "Ask."
"You knew exactly what to do. Even the blood sacrifice, which . . . should have simply been some superstition, it shouldn't have--" She interrupted herself, clearly irritated at herself. "How?"
"There was a legendary hero, Fiona nic Culann. A sorceress from the western isles tried to wake a dragon to conquer a city. The sorceress thought that offering blood as part of the ritual was barbaric, so Fiona offered hers instead. The dragon recognized her as its summoner, so it let her climb onto its back, where she was able to slay it with a single spear thrust through the skull."
"And if no one had offered any blood?"
Drysi shrugged. "Who knows? It's an old story."
"And how does the story end?"
"The sorceress's armies fell apart when a terrible storm tore through the land." A silence settled over the room, and the wind chose that moment to let out a mournful howl as it passed through the roughly hewn lumber of the cabin.
Drysi was the first to break the silence. "I'm ending our alliance."
Nevena's face froze.
"I promised you I would follow you for as long as I believed your cause was just. I no longer do. So, this is farewell. I hope you last the winter." Drysi looked over at me. "If this is where our roads part . . ."
"Of course it isn't, Drysi." I offered Nevena what I could only hope was a regretful smile. "I'm afraid this is the end for our alliance as well, Princess. I really do wish you well, but--"
"Yes, fine, you're deserting. If you're still here by daybreak I will have you both hanged."
And so, as the blizzard continued unrelenting, Drysi Dragonsbane, along with the soldiers she brought, withdrew from the winter encampment of Princess Nevena IV and her armies. For myself, all I offered was my saber and what resources my lands could produce. A noblewoman withdrawing support for a losing war is a far less interesting story than the trusted confidante from the Highlands abandoning the cause.
We wintered in a village in the foothills, and earned our keep by building fortifications to help keep them safe from the war. Sleeping in actual beds, in houses which were built to withstand a winter, was such a relief that more than once I woke up crying.
The storm in the lowlands subsided eventually. The winter gave way to a spring marked by floods caused by the constant snowmelt, and Nevena's army was forced to abandon the imperial highway, fleeing across the mountains and allowing her enemies to control both land and sea. It was from this point that she was driven to launch that last, desperate assault that would determine the course of the war, and the fate of the world with it.
I still wonder if we could have found a way to stop her.