Dreams Can Come True - 3. Chapter 3

The dragon looked down into the deepest part of his cavern at all the gold, silver, and gems he’d stolen from unlikely travelers throughout his existence, which was a very long time indeed. He couldn’t understand why dragons liked those baubles, but his mother had taught him to collect them at every chance, so he did. Now, they sat in nearly a foot of cold water and the dragon stayed away because of the darkness down there.

All winter he’d been trying to restart his fire. He thought he remembered something about a certain firestone that easily ignited in a dragon’s gut, but it had been so long since he’d eaten such a rock he’d forgotten where to find them. Of course, finding them meant going outside his cavern and going outside his cavern meant putting him at risk. So, he stayed in his cavern trying to remember some other ways of reigniting his fire.

The first day of spring was quickly approaching and that meant another young maiden to eat alive. Their screaming was something horrible to hear, but a dragon had a duty to do to his village, so he had to eat her.

He wondered what a young man tasted like. Were they just as disgusting as maidens? He wished he could be given the chance to try one, if only for the experience. He hadn’t had any new experiences in a long, long time and that was making him angry.

The more he thought about not eating a young man the angrier he got.

Why didn’t the village chain up a naked youth for him to chomp on?

Maybe he should go down there and snatch the youngest man in the party that brought up the young maiden. That would certainly surprise them.

Oh, yes, that would surprise them when he crawled back up his cliff and then began to chomp on the young man feet first just to hear the screams.

If the villagers didn’t take the young maiden back with them, he’d leave her chained to the rock slab.

Let the wolves, vultures, and ravens devour her at their pleasure.

Yes he was definitely angry.

In fact, he was downright mad.

They had no right to deny him the experience of eating a young man.

They had no right!

He coughed and a ten foot burst of flame shot out of his mouth.

Was it that simple?

He huffed out another burst of flame and cried out in joy.

Well, he certainly needed to test this out.

He crawled out to the entrance to his cavern huffing and puffing flames and smoke, drying the cavern in the process. He was actually quite proud of himself. This was going to be fun.

With a swoop of his wings he flew out and down toward the village with flames bursting out of his mouth.

He’d show them this time. He’d show them that he wasn’t something to be trifled with. Thatched roofs were going to burn tonight.

And, in a couple days, he’d sweep down in the daylight and snatch up a young man with his claws. He’d eat him right up there above the village; or, maybe, he’d just burn the boy to a crisp!

Yes, this was going to be fun!

- - - - - - - - - -

“You! You did this to me!” the woman exclaimed. “Why couldn’t you leave it alone? But, no! You had to get the magic involved and now look what you’ve done.”

“Honestly, Tim, it’s not that noticeable,” the sorcerer said, “and since no one hardly ever comes up, likely no one will see it at all.”

“I’ll see it! And, the pixies! Oh, you should hear the pixies. And, Harold, don’t even ask me about Harold. Now, what are you going to do about this?”

“Well, Tim, I don’t see what I can do,” the sorcerer said. “That’s completely out of my area of expertise. What you need is a midwife, but I think you’re a bit early for one of those. How about if I get you one at the right time?”

“My name isn’t Tim, it’s Edwina.”

“Edwina?”

“Yes, Edwina and you’d better start using it, too.”

“What happened to Timothy?” the sorcerer asked. “Just yesterday and last night, you were Timothy, the man I love.”

“Ask the magic, you dolt!” she exclaimed. “And, what are these two things you’ve added? They’re as big as udders! And, don’t even think you’re going to share my bed until this is over. How could you do this to me?”

“But, dear, Tim . . .”

“Cut the Tim shit, Gregor, it’s Edwina, Ed-wee-na. Now, go somewhere and do something other than be around here.”

Really, her belly wasn’t that big. There was a bulge, of course, you had to expect that, but it was hardly noticeable. The breasts, well, didn’t a mother need breasts to feed her child? Gregor the Sorcerer stood pleadingly before the man-woman he loved wondering where all this was going. Well, sure he’d asked her about having children, but then the magic turned her into a man and they made love. How could it have gone wrong?

“I said go!” Edwina cried with real tears in her eyes.

A sad Gregor turned and walked out of the bedroom. Obviously, the magic had done it and, to admit the truth, they’d done it when Tim was in his female form, which was his normal one to begin with as he had been a girl hiding under a friar’s robes. She had that kind of slender body that was somewhat ambiguous as to whether Tim was truly a man or if there was something he was hiding. Then the magic got into the act and actually turned her into a man now and then. Sometimes weeks would go by before he’d change back into a woman, but didn’t they always have sex when Tim was a man? He hadn’t grown up so inclined, but maybe people change, maybe he was supposed to love a man and didn’t know it until the magic showed him. What about Edwina’s obvious pregnancy?

He sat down in his rocking chair before the fire and began to ponder his situation or, rather, their situation. It was obvious the magic thought they needed a child, but could it be that easy to impregnate a woman, especially a woman who was a man some of the time? It was simply too amazing to believe, well, not anymore amazing than discovering you’re a sorcerer who has a tribe of pixies living near you, a talking raven ghost named Harold, and a cottage that sometimes seemed just as magical as everything else around them.

What about a midwife? Was he going to have to go down to the village and steal one? She certainly wasn’t going to come up here on her own volition. Gregor guessed he’d have to rely on the magic, again.

“You called?” a diminutive voice asked at Gregor’s elbow.

He turned toward the voice, but saw no one.

“Down here,” the voice said. “Rubiette, at your service, my lord.”

Gregor looked down and saw a miniature woman about two feet tall. She wore black boots that came up to her knees, brown leather leggings and a brown leather tunic trimmed with rabbit fur, and a pudgy, smiling face with a ruddy complexion under a full beard. Her hair, what poked out from under her brown leather, rabbit fur trimmed cap, was the color of a field of newly sprouted oats. He’d never seen a person with green hair before.

“Uh, who are you?” Gregor asked.

“I said Rubiette, if you were listening. I’m a dwarf. I’m also a midwife and nurse. You called and I’m here.”

“The magic,” Gregor mumbled more to himself that to the dwarf.

“Well, certainly, it’s not likely you know the calling spell. Now, where is my charge?”

“In the bedroom, but you’d better not go in there. She’s in a terrible mood.”

“Of course she’s in a bad mood. Anybody would be in a bad mood waking up three months along when the day before she wasn’t pregnant at all. You men! You simply don’t get it at all. I suppose I’ll have to make up a pallet for you to sleep on until her time.”

“No, thanks, er, Rubiette, I’ll make something up in the loft. I’m sure the pixies will help.”

“Whatever.”

- - - - - - - - - -

“Would you like to be my page?” Pink asked after Arthur kissed him. They’d spent another night together and Pink was thinking how nice it would be to have Arthur warming his bed on the quest.

“I’m a bit old for that position,” Arthur said, “and there’s Mum to think about. I don’t know if she’d be willing to let me go.”

“You’re old enough to get married, you’ll be leaving soon anyway,” Pink said.

“Not me, at least not in Furthburg,” Arthur said.

“Do they all know about you?” Pink asked knowing the answer.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that I blew half the men in the village, including the priest, I’d have been roasted in the square a long time ago.”

“What’s to happen to you when you get to be too old?”

“Mum’ll give me the Ass Tail and I’ll be a respected local proprietor and, maybe, if I work at it, I’ll be elected President of the Chamber of Commerce.”

“What would you prefer? Stay here or come with me on my adventure and quite possibly live with me happily ever after.”

“That’s an awfully decent argument, happily ever after. It has a nice ring to it. Happily ever after. Yes, and they lived happily ever after. I like that. And you’re a good fuck, too.”

“Well, there is that.”

“You can do me, you know. You can. I don’t mind.”

“No, you’ll be the fucker and I’ll be the knight,” Pink said. “Of course, as my page you’ll have to help out in the camp.”

“That’s good because I do a scrumptious braised rabbit in cheese sauce,” Arthur said. He pulled Pink into a tight embrace and began kissing the knight’s neck. “I want to make love to you, please?”

“I’m all yours sweet page,” Pink said pulling his legs up and giving himself to the boy.

- - - - - - - - - -

A couple months later, they were riding through a forest on the other side of the last “—burg.” It seemed the Hinterlands were full of “—burgs” of one sort or another. There was even a “Subburg,” a small village less than a league from a larger “—burg.” The last one was Badburg. Pink had looked at Arthur, who was riding beside him.

“Badburg? What wrong with it?” Pink asked.

“No, in Hinterland ‘bad’ means spa,” Arthur said. “There’s a hot spring around here where you can soak. They say a good bad is good for what ails you.”

“Whatever.”

“Are we stopping?” Arthur asked.

“If they’ve got a dragon we will, otherwise it’s onward and upward,” Pink said. There hadn’t been any dragons so far, nor any talk of dragons. Pink was always asking, “Well, what did they say?” To which Arthur always answered, “It’s too soon, we haven’t got to the mountains yet.”

There were mountains all around them, big mountains, tall mountains, rocky crags, sheer cliffs, snowcapped mountains, even something Arthur called glaciers and when Pink questioned him, he said, “It’s a lot of ice, like a river of ice on the side of a mountain.”

“Like the mountain was candied with ice?” Pink asked, trying to picture a frozen mountain in his mind. To which Arthur answered, “No, not like that.” Pink never did see what Arthur was pointing at, but assumed once they were closer to the mountains they’d see a glacier up close, unless, of course, they encountered a village troubled by a dragon first.

“Well, if there’s a hot spring there won’t be a dragon,” Arthur said.

“Why’s that?” Pink asked, trying to think of a reason on his own. What would keep a dragon away from a hot spring? If a good, long soak in a pool of water was good for you and everyone knew dragons were just fire-breathing lizards and lizards liked water, or he assumed they did not having actually ever seen a lizard, then why did dragons avoid a hot spring?

“Dragon’s don’t like hot water, gives them an itch,” Arthur said.

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Arthur said. “Just because I worked in a two-star inn in a dustbin village in the nether parts on Hinterland and sucked men’s cocks, doesn’t mean I didn’t go to school. I’ll have you know I’ve got a sixth grade education. We studied dragons in the fifth grade. I still have the book, too. Or, rather it’s back at the inn. It’s got pictures, too. It has lots of colored pictures, not those usual black and white ink drawings. I had to take it up the bum from a lot of travelers to buy that book, I’ll tell you. I guess I should’ve brought it, but you said I had to keep my luggage to a minimum as your asses are burdened enough by your own shit. It’s not a big book.”

“So, do you know where to find dragons, Sir Dragon Expert?”

“Well, there aren’t any around here anymore. That’s why no one talks about them. From what I learned in school, your best chance of seeing a dragon means going to the Darkest Hinterlands and we don’t want to do that.”

“You know I’m on a quest to kill a dragon, right?”

“Oh, sure, I know that, but you’re not going to be able to kill a dragon unless you find a sorcerer first.”

“Why do I need a sorcerer?” Pink asked wondering where this was all going. He had an idea, but decided to wait it out. The thought of seeing an actual sorcerer was intriguing though. They’d had witches in the kingdom, burned quite a few at the stake, on the priest’s orders, of course. Most people kind of got on with a witch, as they always had teas, tonics, syrups, and such for what ailed you. That they ran naked around a big oak tree on Midsummer’s Eve was their own business. Who in their right mind wanted to see a bunch of old women running around naked? Maybe, that was why the priest had them burned.

“A sorcerer will tell you the spell that will put the dragon to sleep so you can chop off its head,” Arthur said matter-of-factly.

“Just go up to a sorcerer and ask, huh?”

“Well, you’ll have to pay, I’m sure.”

Pink began to wonder where he was going to find a sorcerer. Probably in the Darkest Hinterlands, whatever that meant. So to get to the point, he asked, “What’s so bad about the Darkest Hinterlands?”

“Well, things live there. Things you don’t want to meet on the road.”

“Like sorcerers?”

“No, like dwarfs, pixies, brownies, elves, fairies, goblins, trolls, demons, dragons, and their victims, too. You’ll probably run into a sorcerer, or two, maybe even a witch.”

“I’ve met a witch or two in my life, but what are victims?” Pink asked. Well, could they actually be victims as in a chalk line tracing out a dead person’s body during an Official Sheriff’s Investigation? From what he’d seen so far of the Hinterlands, he couldn’t imagine seeing an Official Sheriff’s Investigation team with their chalk, little number tags, sticks showing angle of an arrow’s entry, graphs, and questioning clerks. You practically had to build a whole new wing on a manor house to provide a team like that with victuals and beds.

“You know, the people who get killed by all those other things or turned into frogs and things.”

“Oh, yes, victims, but if they’ve been killed, what do we have to fear from them?” Pink asked not liking where this was all going. He was beginning to think he was in some kind of children’s story.

“It’s said they’re downright angry about whatever happened to them and will do anything so that you join them in their misery,” Arthur said.

“Oh.”

“So, are we still hunting dragons?” Arthur asked.

“I’m on a quest. I didn’t think it was going to be easy and now I know it’s going to be downright difficult, if not deadly. Of course, we’re still hunting dragons. How can I be famous if I don’t at least try? You know, Arthur, to be honest, I won’t mind being on the troubadour hit parade. That’d show my father a thing or two. Are you still willing to go with me?”

“Do you know what a pixie looks like?”

“No.”

“Then, I guess, I’m still going because you’ll need someone with you who, at least, can speak the language. Plus, I’ve actually seen a brownie, a pixie, and an elf. You don’t want to meet an elf. You have to trust me on that. If we run into an elf, it’s best if we get in one last kiss before the elf slices off our heads.”

“If you’ve seen an elf, why aren’t you dead?”

“Because it was being killed by a tribe of pixies, that’s why,” Arthur said smugly.

Pink was surprised the Hinterlands could be so complicated and how much Arthur knew about it. Obviously, the boy wasn’t the fool Pink first saw in him. There was a lot of useful knowledge on that horse next to him and he wanted to find a campsite soon so he could delve further into the lore of the Hinterlands.