“Damn you, I need men now. If you won’t help me I’ll go it alone.” A man stood with staggered feet and his fist raised. His jaw muscles flared as his teeth clenched, and his eyes, although clearly exhausted, were wild and penetrating. He hadn’t slept for three days, not since the abduction of his beloved daughter, Sofia.
“Don’t be a fool, Roland. Sit.” The man across from him jeered as he pointed to a chair. “This pursuit you crave will only lead to bloodshed and death. It’s suicide to hunt what cannot and should not be hunted.”
The vein in Roland’s forehead pulsed as he stared at the captain, who leaned back in his chair.
“I will not accept this as her fate, Illian. You do not have a daughter, so you cannot fathom the depths to which I am willing to go to save mine. I know she’s alive. I feel it, right here.” Roland pointed to his chest. “I mean to rescue my child.”
“Then you will do so without my men and resources. We cannot sacrifice the means for which you so brazenly ask. A man of repute such as yourself must understand this.” Roland gripped the table and pressed away, his chair screeching against the planked floor.
“I’ll have the beast’s head, by the gods. You’ll regret this, I swear.” The man across the table perked and fell forward in his chair.
“Do you threaten a knight of the crown?” His relaxed nature quickly hardened into stern solemnity.
“I simply state a fact. The beast will soon be dead, and you will not be there to claim any of the glory that follows. Instead, you choose to sip on ale and lean in chairs.”
Roland stood and marched to the tavern door, slamming it behind him as he bounded into the light of day, where the muddy streets bustled with townsfolk. It was one of the outermost dwellings of Bristov, untouched by the coin of nobles, where peasant children toiled about and farm merchants chanted their stock.
Roland descended the stairs and began walking the street. There were others he knew who could help. He’d exhaust every relationship he had from his fighting years if it meant returning Sofia to safety.
Just then, Illian’s voice called out from the doorway.
“Wait, you calloused fool.” Roland stopped before swiveling his feet. Illian glided down the stairs and jogged along the street to meet him. “I won’t just let you go to your death alone. There are other’s I know who would join this delusional quest. That monster has taken from many good men and women, so I’ll leave it for them to decide.”
“You have my thanks, brother.” Roland grabbed his comrade’s forearm. He grinned and looked up. “Do you remember that day, when that Veilmar scum had you pinned to the shit-soaked earth?”
Illian rolled his eyes and shook his long, golden hair. “Of course. And I remember it was your pike that pierced his skull and sullied my tunic.” They broke into a fierce bout of laughter before continuing down the trodden road.
“Come then; I’ll guide you to those who share a portion of your grief. We shall have a company of dragon slayers by nightfall on the ‘morrow.”
The two men continued further into town, reconciling old memories and jesting as they did when they stood side by side in the columns of his majesty. They spoke to others throughout the town, in shops, apartments, brothels, and taverns. It appeared that Illian spoke the truth, for by dusk of the next day he had helped Roland accumulate a fair amount of patronage for his cause.
Forty three brave souls sat mounted on horseback, many of them soldiers, others merchants or simple farmers with scythes and pitchforks. It was an unlikely ensemble, but they were cemented by a single cause — to kill the thing that has made a ruin of their lives. Accrued in a mass of whinnying horses and clanking armor was a force anchored by a single duty to return a blood-debt owed to the serial hunter of Bristov.
“Thank you, courageous men and women of Bristov,” Roland shouted. “Tonight, we ride for the lair of the beast Rahan to rid his stench of this earth. He has taken from each of us, whether it be livestock or loved ones, so by sunrise his ruin will be returned ten-fold!” A roar arose from the cluster of warriors.
“Are you with me?” They raised their weapons and cried out. “Are you with me?” Roland reared his steed and its hooves thrashed in the open air. The screams of warriors echoed across the valley, fueled by an angst for bloody revenge.
“Then follow me now. Let us deliver Rahan’s reckoning!” He spurred forward into a gallop with Illian close behind on a brown mare. The rest of the cohort cheered and followed them into the gloomy forest where they traveled along a path that reached high into the mountains. Hidden within those distant peaks and precipices was a wide-mouthed cavern where a wyvern lingered in a restful slumber.
Next to him laid a comatose girl, whom he’d defend with his life.
To Be Continued…
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This chapter stoked emotion like I haven't felt from a story in a long time. Boys are out for dragon blood. But the dragon cares about the girl... Can't wait to see how this thing plays out.