HtStW - Chapter 1

Step Two: Slay a Dragon

I opened my eyes to the sound of absolutely nothing. Vision blurred, and then cleared ever so slowly. I could see a fuzzy shape of a head above me, which turned into a face I knew, and didn't.

"How are you feeling?" The face asked, in a voice gruff enough to be caught and used to get rid of rust.

"Like ten thousand kinds of crap," I replied, wincing. I sat up and took stock: I was seated in a rather nice bed, in a room I didn't recognize. Pain blossomed all over me and I nearly passed out again.

"Easy, easy boy, you took quite a hit there." The face got up and helped me lie back down on the bed. I looked at it again and the face turned into a man, a grizzled old man that you'd see in one of those fantasy adventure stories playing the part of the teacher to the protagonist, who would (of course) be played by some young hot shot superstar. He looked at me as if he knew me, and started speaking names of people who should have been watching me but didn't. I had no idea what he meant but the words were for some reason calmed me, were a balm to a sore I didn't know I had. I closed my eyes and started thinking. Where was I? Who was I? Why was this here, again?

I could hear the man beside me snort and give a sort of growl. "Don't tell me you've got amnesia again?"

I didn't really want to answer, suddenly embarrassed. "…Maybe?"

"Humph." I could hear a creak, and guessed that the man had gotten out of his char. Thumping footfalls indicated that he was leaving the room, for what I didn't know. Was I really the sort of person who got amnesia all the time? Hopefully not, but I was starting to think mine was a regular affliction.

I heard the thumping footfalls come back and I opened my eyes to see the man return, carrying a large syringe. Without warning he jammed it right into my stomach. More pain exploded from that area, a fire that spread out to my limbs and got caught in my skull. I started screaming. There was blood, so much blood-

After a few minutes it was all over. It was done. I was safe.

I glared up at my mentor. "Stupid git, didn't we decide that next time, you were going to use the big machine?"

The man, Nathan Cole, snorted and whacked me upside the head. "Yeah, I was just going to wheel your amnesiac little body into the machine room and hook you up to ten thousand different wires. That would have gone over amazingly well." He scowled at me again, and then turned to go. "Hurry up. You weren't out long this time, as Aziel was hoping, so we kept the dragon for you. Now come on." Snarling, he stalked out of the door. I made a face at his back, knowing that I'd probably pay for it later but not really caring, at the moment. Wincing, I got out of bed as fast as I could and took stock.  My jeans were dirty, caked with fresh mud that hadn't totally solidified yet. A few spots of dried blood was scattered on my tshirt, which was ripped up in a few spots. "So the old bastard was telling the truth," I muttered, brushing away the worst of the dust. "Jeez, these training sessions are totally wrecking my wardrobe."

"Oh, get off your high horse already, Darren." A pretty mass of dark curly hair poked her head though the doorway. "And hurry up! That dragon's not getting any more defeated with you whining in here about your clothes." She said this last word with a measure of distaste, wrinkling her little nose in disgust. "Or do you want me to defeat it for you again?"

"Cassandra, if you so much as step into that training pen-"

"Well, I will if you take much longer!"

Grumbling I left the room and walked down the hallway, moving gingerly. Was a rib broken? Cassandra, of course, was skipping merrily ahead, not a worry in her empty head. She darted out the school door without bothering to hold it open for me, and it took a while for me to negotiate the handle and lock mechanism what with my broken bones and all. Finally I got the damn thing open and staggered out, to the sound of thunderous applause.

The sun hurt my eyes, and to shield my face I had to let go of the door. I didn't really want to do it, as it was my escape route if it turned out the dragon had regenerated, but a gust of wind came along and made my decision for me.

CLANG!

The slamming door made a sound akin to a first-round bell. Well, I didn't think of it as such, but the creature/monster sure did. With a snarl of rage the beast lunged at me and I braced myself.

Its claws gripped my shoulders. I could feel its breath on my neck, hot and dry (every action book I ever read described monster breath as being moist, but in my opinion dragons were never moist; all of them dry, every last one, no matter their class) I could feel its teeth grazing the collar on my tee shirt. I could feel its weight, causing me to stagger and almost collapse. I could smell the grass below me, cool and sweet, growing warmer in the midday sun.

I fell.

I could hear the dragon snarl, feel its mouth open, jaws creaking, tusks swinging from side to side. It was confused, its prey defeated so fast, but its hunger got the better of it and it leaned in, mouth opening wide. A trail of spittle dripped from its maw and-

My foot crashed around, smacking the dragon square in the face. It gave a sharp keening cry of pain and rolled off my back. I pushed up with my hands and completed the flip, ending it with a graceful bow.

Cassandra clapped sarcastically. "Good job, Hero. Now slay the stupid beast already."

I ignored her and ran forward. The dragon was just starting to get back on its feet and I used the dragon as a stepping stone, stepping onto it and leaping off and upwards, up to the sky, the wide blue yonder, feeling the blue and the sun and the heat.

I landed, as expected (and more than a little bit hoped) near the weapons wall, and grabbed a spear. From the grunting sounds I had heard I was guessing that this dragon was closer to the ground than most, and besides, spears were my favourite choice of weaponry. Snarling with battle anticipation, feeling the familiar thrum of adrenaline and war power surge through my veins, I turned round and faced the dragon again, getting my first good look.

It was a squat beast, husky and round and, as I had guessed, low to the ground. Its short legs were powerful, rippled with muscles all over, and its hide looked thick and was covered in hair. A Mohawk of plumage sprouted from its cylindrical snout down to its whip like tail that was ended in a vicious dart dagger. It snorted in anger (or was it annoyance) and pawed at the ground with a fore foot.

I looked at Nathan Cole. "Are you serious? A warthog? You're making me fight a warthog?"

He furrowed his impressive eyebrows and looked right back. "I gave you the injection, you ought to have remembered its class already."

"Didn't you hear Aziel, the new brand of ReCurrence erases last battle memories, he was insistent that I was using extra time to think and plot and cheat!"

"I would not put it past you," Nathan Cole muttered. Louder he said "He is watching this game right now, you know, so if I were you I would do less of the talking thing and more of the slaying." He pointed at the dragon (the warthog, it was more of a warthog than anything) and as I turned to look at it I could see it was milliseconds away from charging. I braced myself, again, this time more prepared for the attack. After all, I had my pointed stick. I would be fine.

With a roar the dragon charged, and at the same moment I charged as well. We collided in the middle, me stabbing at its belly with my spear, it trying to gouge at my thighs and calves with its deadly tusks. I missed, and got grazed on the left side in the process. Then the awful thing happened: the beast managed to hook one of its tusks between my legs and with a trumpeting yell it tossed its head, throwing me behind it. I nearly let go of my spear as I sailed up, screaming, and I landed with a thud in the ground behind the beast.

It turned around and I scrambled to my feet, holding the spear at the ready. It would not have been fooled by another attempt at playing dead. The blow had stunned me, though, and I nearly fell again. I held the spear in one hand as I put the other against the ground, bracing myself and trying to clear the spots from before my eyes. I could hear the dragon snort and knew it was about to charge again. This time, though, I would not do the same.

With another roar of anger and defiance it raced towards me, a thundering wrecking ball of hair and grey skin. I stepped forward, quickly for a few paces, I could see that ts head was lowered, it wanted to gore me in the ankles the calves with its tusks and pin me to the wall, but just before it got to me I vaulted to the right, using my spear as a pole lance. The creature ran into the wall alone. I could see it stagger a bit, dazed by the unexpected blow, and I made my move. Running I jumped onto the creature's back and stabbed it in its thick muscular neck with my spear, giving a warrior yell. (later Cassandra told me it was more akin to the scream of a shrill, scared little child, but in my mind I always saw it as something fearsome and strong, like I imagined my ancestor's cries to be. It was a battle cry, and it was essential to any true Hero such as myself.)

I leapt back and the creature staggered around, blood spurting out of its neck. I must have punctured an artery. Far from being slowed by the six foot stick sticking out of its neck, though, it instead got even angrier. I could swear its eyes turned black with rage (before they were a rather nice gold, eagle's eyes, undeserving on such an ugly creature) I took a few wary steps back as the creature stumbled, and then regained its balance. Slowly and steadily it walked towards me. I stared at it, reviewing my options. I could try for another type of weapon, but they were all hanging on the wall that was behind the dragon warthog beast. I could dash to the right side and try to skirt around the creature, but as I could see it was fast, and I could not be sure that it would not catch up to me and feast on my flesh, injury or no injury. I could try vaulting over it (that was one of my plans if the feint to the side had not worked) but the pole sticking out of its neck was too vertical for me to try it. I was quite stuck.

"Booo! Booo!" Cassandra was calling. She never liked me, the bitch, but I was not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me die.

Gritting my teeth I ran forward. I was going to feint left, towards the wall, then make a dash right, and then –

The creature anticipated my movements and, baring its teeth, it trumpeted and ran at me on the left side. I tried dodging right but it followed me, looking at me with those angry black eyes, blood spurting out of its wound and colouring the ground scarlet. I put on speed, trying to get ahead of it, but it was running faster, faster than I ever could, and it was almost upon me-

I reached up and grabbed at the spear, and pulled myself up and over the beast and I landed expertly on the ground on its right side. It turned as I pulled it, and gravity did the rest, and the beast toppled over as I sprinted towards the weapon rack. Not for the first time, I cursed the largeness of this particular training pen. (I liked the deep, medium ones myself, where one got to climb and hide. These larger pens had me running which I really did not like to do, and the smaller ones were infinitely more dangerous, and were also of course filled with the much more dangerous creatures.)

I reached the weapons wall and grabbed the first one I saw, a short sword (little more than a dagger it was, really, but I never particularly like the broad swords, nor the long ones. I found them far too unwieldy) and I spun around, half expecting to see the dragon behind me. But it was not there. I looked around, surprised to find that it had not really moved from where it had fallen over, on the far side of the pen and almost at the wall. I strapped the sword to my back (I was not totally convinced that this was not just a clever plot) and I picked up my second favourite weapon, a crossbow, and I started the long walk back. The pen, as a whole, was almost the size of half a football field, which to the athletic of readers does not sound like much but let me inform you that two months prior to this I was spending the majority of my time sitting on the internet (indoors of course) and getting the occasional make out session with French people and girls named after clothing. So my point being, it was a plenty big enough pen for the likes of me.

I reached the creature, not altogether too close to it but about ten feet away, and notched a bolt. It was at this moment that I started thinking that maybe a bow and arrow would have gone better, they took less time to reload, but as I saw the creature shudder and cough and try to get up, I realized that this dragon's hide was too thick for any normal arrow to pierce. A crossbow bolt would have to do, and it would be fine good enough. I held it steady and moved closer, towards the creature's head.

It looked at me, more pain in its eyes this time than real anger, and I could see now that, as it had fallen, its impact upon the ground had caused the spear to be forced farther into its neck, probably piercing some vital internal organ in the process. It croaked at me weakly, and raised its head to look at its former attacker, and I as gazed into its eyes, which had returned to their normal regular brilliant gold, its eyes full of peace and understanding and pain, my eyes were full of sorrow.

I raised the crossbow and shot the creature through the skull. It slumped against the ground, in peace at last.

Nathan Cole sighed irritably. "Finally! Took you bloody well long enough!" He got up out of his floating seat which had drifted down to the ground, and he got out and walked towards me. "Now get that weaponry cleaned up and come meet me in the classroom. Cassandra, you help." He stalked off, and entered the school. The door closed behind him but this time did not clang.

Cassandra got up and stretched and hopped off her own floating seat. "Shame, that battle was." She walked past me to the creature and yanked out the spear. "I was quite rooting for him, when he tossed you that first time I was sure it was all going to be over." She kicked the dead dragon lightly, and inspected the bloodied end of the spear.

I tried not to get angry at her, knowing she was just saying this to get a rise out of me. That plan didn't work too well. "You know, for someone who never participates in these training battles, you are quite the cynic." I knelt down and felt for the crossbow bolt, prising out of the creature's skull. "How about you fight before you judge? Sound good to you?"

She tossed the spear at me out of spite, and I barely caught it in time. If it had hit my face (which I am sure of course was her intent) then I would have been laughed out of the classroom, but I was lucky this time. It had been a few months, and my reflexes were improving, and Cassandra was not good at thinking up new ways to humiliate me. Her eyes narrowed as she spat out her words, "You know I'm not allowed to fight, the damsel in distress does not so much as perspire in her training. Now hurry up, you look like an idiot carrying all of those weapons." She turned on heel and talked towards the school, to the one side of it where the weapons wall and the school met the cleaning shack. I stumbled, burdened by the weight of all the weaponry (I would not deny, I probably did look quite ridiculous) (also strength was not something that came easily to me, and as such it would take longer than a few months until I started gaining some proper muscle.) I staggered after the huffy girl who was supposed to be my beloved.

Sometimes I think there are some parts of hero–dom that ought to have been left behind with the carts and wagons.