Katarina the Dragonslayer and the Foebreaker's Curse

Chapter 2 - The King's Road

2

THE KING'S ROAD

Kat blinked. It’s morning. I must have passed out when the dragon fell on top of me. The stench of brimstone filled her nostrils, and breathing came with sharp pain. She tried to free herself, but the dragon was too heavy. Voices. Not far off. The villagers are coming back.

“The beast is dead, to be sure,” said a voice that sounded like Cullywich. More men’s voices and heavy footsteps came near. “There’s something under it. Move that thing, lads, and be quick about it.” Cullywich, now that the crisis was over, had emerged to take charge. “Well, bless my bootstraps! It’s that little rechaizo, what belonged to Sulk.”

Katarina coughed, then sat up slowly. My ribs! It hurts so much to breathe. “Marcus, where’s Marcus?”

“Near dead, no thanks to the likes of you.” A big man with a leathery face eyed her with hatred. “You brought that monster here, no doubt for some dark sacrifice to your

heathen gods!”

“Now, there, shut your trap, you ignorant brute.” Cullywich stood between the man and the girl. “She’s a heathen, I’ll not argue that, but she’s just a child. A good child! She couldn’t have summoned such a thing! So keep your opinions in your pointy head and don’t start making trouble. We’ve had trouble enough.” Some of the men nodded their assent, but the big man was undaunted.

He looked around and pointed at the dragon’s corpse. “Behold this work of heathen sorcery! She comes to town, and then comes this dragon! Then she, just a child, as some might say, slaughters it like a fatted goat while glowing bright as the harvest moon! By my word, I say she’s a witch!” Several others echoed his accusation, and before long, more than half the village was crying “witch” and Cullywich could no more quiet them than he could the thunder.

“Please, my good sirs, regain your reason and—” Cullywich was silenced by a meaty fist which knocked him to the ground. A cheer rose from the crowd, and in the shadow of a burned house, a slender, cloaked figure watched in silence.

“She’s a witch! Burn her!” This cry was repeated several times, and then the big man stepped over the unconscious Cullywich and toward Kat. The ground before him erupted in flame. Men and women screamed, and the crowd fled toward what shelter they could find. A billowing cloud of steam rose from the ground, and Kat struggled to her feet. She pulled her swords out of the dead dragon’s chest and ran.

It was not long before she made it to the old southern road. The King’s Road, the men call it, but it was laid down when there was still a High King among the Elves of Melloren. The men of the town rarely travel on it. Katarina leaned against a tree, and coughed. She wiped tears from her eyes and fought to ignore the searing pain in her ribs. Well, there’s no going back now, is there? Fortune favors the bold, she thought as she headed south.

She tried to walk quickly, unsteady as she was. The old storyteller said that there used to be whole towns of Elves along the King’s Road. They’re gone now. All laid to waste a long time ago by the foebreakers. No good thing lives on the road to the south, he said, but he would never tell me who the foebreakers were, just that the road is cursed because of them. Maybe he didn’t know.

After the first few miles, Kat turned west off the road and down the slope to the river. It had been a mild winter, and so its waters still flowed freely. She cleaned her weapons and washed herself hastily, then opened the pouch on her belt. She took a small bundle of dry leaves and crushed them, mixing them with river mud. She scanned the area around her and then smeared this mixture on her arms, legs, and boots, then made her way back to the road, careful to keep to the rocky gullies that led up from the river.