With a Single Spell

CHAPTER 30

The lump on his head throbbed dully as Tobas sat on the rock and studied the immense carcass. Karanissa sat beside him, one hand rubbing at her bruised hip as she worked what healing she could, while Peren, his ruined tunic reshaped into a rough bandage, tried to lift the battered remains of the dragon’s head.

“It’s too heavy,” he admitted at last, as he came panting up to join them. “I can’t get it off the ground.” “We could roll it down the hillside,” Karanissa suggested. “Or I can sort of slide it by witchcraft, but I can’t lift it any more than you can.”

“If we can’t move it, neither can anyone else who comes across it,” Tobas pointed out. “I say we go back to Dwomor and get men, horses, and wagons and come back for it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Peren said.

“Of course he’s right!” Karanissa said. She took her hand from her hip and shifted uncomfortably, then remarked, “I don’t think I can do any more healing today; it takes too much energy.” She picked at her blood-soaked gown critically and added, “I wish I had thought to bring more clothes.”

“Well, we did come through the tapestry a little unexpectedly,” Tobas pointed out.

“I know.” She ran her hand over her skirt experimentally, and the blood ran out in a thin stream, leaving clean fabric.

“How did you do that?” Peren asked.

“Witchcraft, of course.” She did not bother to look at him but went on brushing at her clothes, separating fabric from gore.

“Wait a minute,” Tobas said as he saw the dark fluid spilling out onto the ground. “Don’t waste that stuff! Dragon’s blood is worth a fortune; half the high-order spells use it. Wizards back in Telven pay one-fourth its weight in gold, when they can get it at all.”

She looked up for a moment, then went back to cleaning her skirt. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “There must be gallons of the stuff in that carcass over there.”

“Besides, Tobas,” Peren said, “you’re already rich, anyway! All you have to do is go back to Dwomor and collect the reward. You killed the dragon single-handed, with your one silly spell!”

“That’s right,” Karanissa agreed. “They owe you a thousand pieces of gold!”

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Tobas stared at the dragon’s head in wonderment. “I killed the dragon. With a single spell.”

Then he shook himself, wishing that his clothes weren’t damp and sticky and already beginning to stink. “You were with me, Peren, I’ll tell them you helped. Karanissa and I won’t leave you out. You can marry a princess, if you like, and have a position in the castle and a share of the gold.”

“Thank you,” Peren said sincerely. “A few months ago I might have turned that down, since I didn’t do anything, but I’ve learned better now; I’ll take what’s offered in this world. I’ll choose Princess Tinira, if you don’t mind, and take however much of the gold you can spare.”

“Which princess you marry doesn’t concern me in the least,” Tobas replied. “I’ve got a wife, thank you, and one is all I need. As for the gold, we’ll settle that later; I’m too confused right now to think clearly. A third, maybe?”

Peren shrugged. “Whatever you two think is fair.”

“Don’t spend money you haven’t got,” Karanissa said acidly, straining to reach the back of her bodice to wipe it clean. “How do you know that this so-called king of Dwomor will actually pay?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Peren said.

“Oh, he’ll have to pay,” Tobas said. “He announced that reward all over the known World!”

“We’ll see,” Karanissa said.

Her cynicism was contagious; all three sat in gloomy silence for a moment, contemplating the gore-covered landscape, their sorry condition, and the possibility of royal treachery. The witch said at last, “I suppose he’ll come through with the jobs, though, and he’s probably eager to be rid of the princesses. I have the impression from what I’ve seen and what Tobas has told me that things have gotten more primitive since my day, and I suppose unmarried daughters are probably not very welcome.”

“Elner told me that they aren’t,” Tobas agreed. “But I don’t want a princess; I’ve got you.” “Well, I know that,” she said with a trace of self-satisfaction in her voice. “But you can at least take the job; you don’t want to spend the rest of your life back inside the tapestry, living off those gardens, do you?”

“Actually,” Tobas answered, “if we could get the gardens back in shape, I don’t think I would really mind; the castle wasn’t so bad at all. It was just being trapped there that was unpleasant. Once we chase out the rest of the spriggans, it’ll be a nice place.”

“I’d like to see it sometime,” Peren remarked.

“You were scared of it, I thought,” Tobas replied.

“Well, yes,” Peren admitted, “but I didn’t know what it was then.”

“True,” Tobas conceded. His stomach rumbled. “I wonder if you can eat dragon meat?”

“I don’t know,” Peren said. “I’m hungry, but I’m not hungry enough to try.”

“Are we going to sit here all night?” Karanissa asked, getting to her feet and beginning to work on cleaning the back of her skirt. Tobas watched in appreciation.

“She’s right,” Peren said. “We should at least get to the cottage and make sure the tapestry’s safe.”

“And get away from all this dead meat before it starts to smell; I suspect dragons decay quickly,” Karanissa agreed.

Tobas nodded and rose.

They found the tapestry just as Tobas had left it, and the three of them carefully rolled it up so that no one would accidentally stumble into it; that done, Tobas and Karanissa settled in the cottage for the night, while Peren tactfully found himself a spot well away from the building, out of sight and hearing.

The following day they simply rested, while Karanissa used her witchcraft to clean their clothes and speed the healing of their various injuries. They were all still exhausted. Karanissa, in particular, had put more energy into her witchcraft than might have been wise, leaving little for traveling.

On the eighth of Snowfall they headed out again, Peren and Tobas carrying the rolled tapestry on their shoulders, and on the ninth, at midmorning, they came in sight of Dwomor Keep.

Someone spotted them as they approached; by the time they neared the gate, the battlements were lined with curious people peering down at the unexpected arrivals.

The portcullis was down and stayed down despite their presence; they halted, of necessity, just outside, and the two men carefully lowered the tapestry to the ground.

A guard on the other side called out something in Dwomoritic.

Karanissa, who had listened intently, called something back, concluding with “Ethsharitic! Speak Ethsharitic!” Tobas was, impressed that she could do so much after hearing just a few words of a completely new language; he had not realized her witchcraft was that versatile.

The guard, after an instant’s hesitation, called out, “Who goes there?” in Ethsharitic, speaking with a thick, ugly accent.

“Peren the White, the witch Karanissa of the Mountains, and the mighty wizard and dragon slayer, Tobas of Telven!” Peren announced. He tried to look impressive despite the filth still marring his white hair, the tattered condition of his breeches, and the shredded near-absence of his tunic. Tobas looked somewhat better, his clothes being intact, and Karanissa had used her witchcraft during the journey to restore herself to her best appearance.

“What... ah, what is your business?” the guard managed in his ugly Ethsharitic.

“We have come to claim the reward due us for killing the dragon in your hills,” Peren replied.

“Dragon? Killed? Really?” the guard asked with evident surprise.

A smile appeared unbidden on Tobas’ face; Peren fought his down, but did not speak. “Yes, really,” Karanissa said, then repeated herself in her improvised witch’s Dwomoritic.

“Let us in!” Tobas demanded, drawing his athame dramatically.

The guard still hesitated; Tobas gestured and spoke, setting the left sleeve of the man’s surcoat afire.

The effect was quite dramatic; he could hear several of the watching Dwomorites suck in their breath. He immediately regretted his hasty, impulsive action, though; attacking the guard was no way to make himself welcome. Besides, he did not want to overuse his spell; his supply of brimstone was finally running low, as he had spilled some when he exploded the dragon.

The soldier beat out the fire and stared out at the strangers, his initial surprise and wonder replaced with fear and anger. “Open this gate,” Tobas demanded, keeping up the role he had established, “or it’ll be your beard next time!”

The guard glared out for another second or so, then turned to obey. With much cursing and creaking, the portcullis was raised, and half a dozen soldiers appeared to usher the party into the courtyard. Two started to pick up the tapestry, but Peren and Tobas stopped them, preferring to carry the precious hanging themselves.

Once inside, they lowered the tapestry and stood silently, trying to seem calm and aloof, while Karanissa looked around at the sorry state of the castle in evident dismay. At the behest of the commander of the little detachment of guards, a civilian messenger ran to report their arrival.

Naturally, they were not immediately taken in to see the king; instead, various people, presumably officials, none of whom spoke a word of Ethsharitic, came and studied them where they stood. Karanissa did not bother to strain her witchcraft sufficiently to follow what was said; instead, one or another of the three foreigners simply demanded, “Speak Ethsharitic!” each time a new person appeared and addressed them in Dwomoritic.

After an hour of such delays, the gatekeeper they had first spoken to, whose sleeve Tobas had set afire, reappeared and instructed them in barely intelligible Ethsharitic to follow him into the castle. They obeyed. A moment later they finally found themselves seated at a table across from the Lord Chamberlain.

“So you claim to have slain the dragon,” the chamberlain said without preamble.

“We have slain the dragon,” Tobas replied.

The chamberlain shook his head. “You are by no means the first to make that claim. We have sent out seventy-four self-proclaimed dragon hunters; we have good evidence that over half simply deserted. After accepting our hospitality, they simply left the country without ever trying to kill the beast. A few others, who made the attempt in good faith, were evidently killed. Another few made unsuccessful attempts and escaped alive, I believe that your former comrades were among those; in fact, they told us, if I remember correctly, that the two of you had fled eastward over the mountains rather than return to admit failure. Still others, besides all those I have mentioned, have returned claiming to have killed the monster, but none could prove their claims. One went so far as to bring back the head of a dragon, but only a very small one and not at all fresh, obviously not the right one. Now you march in here with no evidence to support your story, no details of how you slew the creature, but only with this mysterious great roll of cloth you will let no one touch, and expect us to accept you as heroes immediately. I regret that we cannot do that. First, you must prove your claim.”

“We will be glad to do just that,” Tobas replied, “if you will provide us with the necessary men, beasts, and wagons to haul the dragon’s remains back here. We weren’t strong enough to lift the head after we decapitated the monster, let alone its body. Its blood you see all over us.” He held out the encrusted front of his tunic.

The chamberlain looked startled. “Oh? Then you really did kill something? And you left the carcass untended?” “That’s right,” Tobas agreed. “We didn’t have much choice. It’s about a day and a half from here. Any of us can show you.”

The Dwomorite sat back, contemplating the three, then asked sharply, “How big was this dragon? And what color?”

“It was blue-green, and, oh... what would you say, Peren? Sixty feet long?”

“About that,” Peren agreed.

“How did you kill it?” the chamberlain demanded.

“Magic,” Tobas answered.

Seeing that their questioner was not satisfied, Peren added, “Fire-magic. My companion here, the mighty wizard Tobas of Telven, blew its neck to pieces with a single spell.”

“Forgive me if I still have reservations,” the chamberlain said, polite once again and apparently at least partly convinced. “But how is it that you took so long to accomplish the task? You departed well over three months ago.”

Tobas shrugged. “We found other matters to occupy us for a time.” He gestured toward Karanissa and the tapestry that lay against one wall.

“Look,” Peren said in his most reasonable tone. “We don’t expect you to pay us here and now; get some wagons, and I’ll show your men where it is. Tobas and Karanissa will stay here in Dwomor as hostage for my good behavior; I’ll leave the tapestry and everything else with them.”

“I don’t know,” the chamberlain said. “You could intend to lead my men into a trap.”

“Arm them, then! And if I were planning any treachery, would my companions allow themselves to remain as hostages?”

The Dwomorite considered for another moment, then nodded. “I suppose not, not if they knew about it,” he said. “All right, then; we shall see if you have done what you say. Remember, though, if this is some sort of trick, that you did not see all of this castle during your previous stay here; there are dungeons enough for the three of you.”

“Your dungeons don’t concern us; we want nothing but what we have earned,” Peren said as he rose.