The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 10.2: Dwarves and Dragons

The company spent four more wet and miserable days in the Fyrken swamp before they came to the foot of the Gráfell Mountains. Jagged peaks rose high above them. Dense pine and fir forests covered the high mountainsides. The woods cut off in a strangely level boundary, almost as if Maht-Hildis had used his divine sword to scrape clean the lower slopes.

The dwarf pointed at the sharp forest edge. “Dragons hunt the lands below the treeline. All of us must watch the skies. Do not hesitate to cry out if you see something.”

Bodelic unslung the waterproofed leather case from his back and pulled out a short dark bow, replacing it in the case with his staff. The five caravan guards followed Bodelic’s lead and armed themselves with elenium bows from Gellan Ware’s cargo.

“If a dragon attacks, wait for my signal. Our goal is not to kill, but to chase it away. The dragon can burn us with fire before we’re close enough for a kill shot.”

Philburn asked, “What part o’ those beasts do we shoot?”

“The wing roots. Tear the delicate wing membrane and the dragon will flee. Do not aim for the head or the breast, because dragons have bony plates along the front profile and will dive towards us behind that armor.”

Gellan Ware asked, “How long before we reach Nidafall?”

“Three days. We also cannot light campfires. Large dragons assume the flames mean a small dragon has made a kill, and they will come to steal the meat...”

“Royalty of the sky,” muttered Garin in disgust.

Bodelic ignored the interruption, “Large bonfires scare them off, but we should not squander the fuel to use such a trick. Thus we must rely on sharp eyes and secrecy.”

With those words, the dwarf led Gellan Ware’s party into the Gráfell Mountains. The dwarf carefully chose their path to utilize the available cover: mostly large boulders strewn across the rough terrain. He scowled as the larger men crunched the broken rock beneath their feet. The dwarf tried to teach them to minimize their footfalls by taking cautious steps, but the men seemed reluctant to heed his warnings. When questioned about the need for such care, the dwarf explained, “If our steps spook a flock of birds or a mountain goat, a dragon could be drawn to the activity.”

Despite fear-driven efforts, the city-bred guardsmen and traders barely reduced their clumsy racket. Bodelic resigned himself to the danger. For two days, fortune favored them and they walked safely through the jagged mountain passes. On the morning of the third day, however, their luck ran out.

Every morning, mist hung over Gráfell’s cool passes in a thick white blanket. Bodelic ordered the company to remain in their camp until the morning mists passed. Dragons liked to hover just above the soup in the hope of sniffing prey through the low-lying fog and pouncing upon unaware victims. On this particular day, Aubert dropped a cooking pan out of his pack after neglecting to close it completely before hefting it onto his back.

Just as Bodelic hissed his objection, a noxious breeze assaulted them from above. A panicked Garin cried out, “DRAGON!!!”

Bodelic did not even bother to turn his head. Instead, he bellowed, “Cover!” and dove behind the nearest boulder to put solid granite between him and the monster.

Cal frantically spotted a likely rock and, remembering that the dwarf had said dragons hunt from upwind, he instinctively sheltered behind the correct side of the huge stone to protect himself from the dragon’s swooping attack. Crouching behind the boulder, he raised his bow and groped at the quiver over his back for an arrow.

Aubert screamed as the dragon’s claws gashed his side before he could find safety. Peering around the rock, Cal caught a glimpse of the stricken guard. Aubert took two drunken steps toward cover, and then fell backwards. The doomed man flopped on the ground in a quivering mass, his muscles firing in random spurts up and down his spine, jerking his limbs with crazed impulses. He shrieked in agony.