Dreams Can Come True - 4. Chapter 4

She wasn’t like any of the other maidens left for him to devour. For one thing, she spoke to him and he understood. Then she told him to find her some clothes and she would become his maidservant. He didn’t know what a maidservant was, but she was so insistent that he did it, especially after she climbed up the cliff naked. It was so steep and so tall that he was bushed after climbing, but she just did it as if she was born to it.

“I’ll need some wood, too,” she said before he left. “It’s cold here in the cave and, besides, I’ll need a fire if I’m going to cook for you, too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the dragon said, startled that he could actually talk.

“Oh, yes, before you leave, do you have a name?” the girl asked, shivering from the cold. “I’m Deirdre.”

“Deirdre, yes, I can remember that,” the dragon said, again amazed that he was actually carrying on a conversation with a human. He didn’t think that was possible. No one certainly mentioned it to him.

Name? Did he have a name? That would’ve been a long time ago when he was still a little burner, maybe before he’d even learned how to make a flame. What did they call him? Wait a minute, his brother, what was his name? Charlie? No, no, that was his sister, Charleen. Did he have a brother? Yes! Derrick was his name, but what did they call him?

“Don’t remember my name,” he finally said.

“That’s all right,” Deirdre said. “I’ll call you Sir or Herr Dragon for the time being. You are a boy dragon, right?”

“Oh, yes, I think, yes, no eggs in my cavern, just baubles,” the dragon said. “Damon? Does Damon sound like a boy’s name?”

“Yes, I have an uncle named Damon,” Deirdre said. “So Damon is your name?”

“Maybe or maybe I just ate a man named Damon. You know, a knight named Damon of something or other. They were always showing up saying, ‘I am Sir Damon of something or other and I’ve come to slay you, you horrible, evil dragon.’ Yes, I think there was a Sir Damon of something or other. Knights haven’t been around in a long, long time. Of course, your village has been bringing up maidens every spring for me to devour, so I guess they decided that was easier than hiring a knight.”

“Knights are very expensive,” Deirdre said. “You know, it’s getting quite cold in here with me not having proper clothing and causing me to be nude. Do you think you could pop out and get me a log or two? If it’s not too much trouble, that is. Maybe you can find a fagot for kindling; fagots are good if you want a big fire.”

“Here, I’ll heat you a couple stones. That should take the dampness out of the air,” the dragon said. Then he blew a burst of blue flame onto a pile of rocks turning them white hot until they nearly melted.

“Wow, that was really something,” Deirdre said. “I didn’t know dragons could do that.”

“You have to put your lips together and pass the flame over your tongue and through your front teeth. Dad said it was dragon whistling. It wasn’t too loud, was it?”

“No, it was quite unlike anything I’ve ever heard. Do you think you could go for the wood now? The woodcutter in the village should have quite a lot of seasoned wood. Maybe he could bundle up some with a couple fagots.”

“Yes, be back shortly,” the dragon said as he lumbered out the entrance. He stretched his wings and jumped off the cliff. He wondered what he was going to do with Deirdre. It was definitely nice to have someone around to talk to. He didn’t know he could do that. She’d probably like the baubles, though.

But, what was his name? What had Mum called him? Pee something, wasn’t it? Pee, pee, er, peer, er, no, no, cee, no, peer, no, pur, no, the other way, per cee, Percy! That was it! Percy, after his great uncle. Percy, yes! That was his name.

Deirdre was definitely going to be impressed, but she’d be even more impressed if he didn’t toast anyone in the village. He’d have to ask nicely, “May I, please, have some firewood and maybe a few fagots for kindling?” They were going to shit, but that’s what humans did when they were scared. That might be fun, too.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Get outside, now!” Rubiette exclaimed as she pushed at Gregor’s legs. “It’s the birthing hour and we don’t need you around here mucking everything up with your magic.”

Quite frankly, the magic had done enough on its own. Edwina’s pregnancy had been only a few months and, now, here she was giving birth to triplets. The magic had built a small cottage beside theirs to be used by Rubiette and now a wet nurse to take care of the extra mouth that Edwina wouldn’t be able to handle.

Gregor had had to go down to the town to find a wet nurse and convince her to come back up with him. It took an awful lot of convincing before she agreed. Then the village council found out about it and tried to put themselves into the bargain, being that Gregor, by killing the demon, had throw a wrench into their profitable business of outfitting travelers for the long journey around the mountains. In the end, of course, the magic stepped in and whisked the wet nurse and Gregor away. Luckily, she got on quite well with Rubiette and didn’t have any problem with the midwife being a dwarf.

Unfortunately, Gregor didn’t know what to do. Being a sorcerer was, basically, a rather boring occupation. Oh, there were problems, but they didn’t show up every day, sometimes months would go by before someone climbed up to their cottage and begged for assistance with something they could’ve taken care of themselves. Most of the problems concerned disputes among the various beings in this part of the Hinterlands and the people who kept expanding their villages or cutting down forests for more farmland.

Then there was the dragon from seven valleys south of them. According to the delegation from the village in question, they’d been sacrificing a virgin to the dragon for centuries and didn’t have any problems. Oh, there was the occasional pig that went missing or an extra cow, but all in all everything was hunky-dory living with a dragon.

Then, suddenly, the dragon comes swooping down, grabs a young shepherd out of a lea, and chomps him as he flew away. Then, after they left the virgin to be eaten by the dragon, he came down the village asking for firewood, fagots for kindling, and clothes for the virgin they left for him to eat.

Well, of course, they said quite emphatically, “No!”

To which the dragon burnt to a crisp the nearest man, who just happened to be the shepherd’s father. They complied with his request, but animals started disappearing more regularly and when it came time to harvest the apples, one of the trees was missing. It had been completely uprooted and taken away.

Of course, they demanded Gregor do something about the dragon.

Then, a few days after that, a troop of dwarfs showed up demanding he do something about the dragon, too. He wasn’t exactly bothering them, but by increasing his activity, they were afraid it would bring tourists from beyond the Great Snowy Mountains or the great river in the east. It seemed dwarfs didn’t like tourists and were simply being proactive.

Gregor had to ask what proactive meant.

He didn’t know what he could do, but went to see the dragon to get his side of the story. That was when he discovered there was a young woman living with him. The woman was Deirdre. She had fiery black hair, a pale complexion, and cold blue eyes. She seemed quite sturdy for a maiden. The dragon said his name was Percy and was as big as one would imagine a dragon to be, but he had a way about him that wasn’t quite dragon-like. However, they seemed to be quite happy living together.

“Percy, people have been complaining about your increased activity down in the village,” Gregor said as he sat down at the offered chair; it looked solid gold, but was mostly likely gold leaf, probably something the dragon had stolen. Deirdre poured him a cup of tea and then sat off to the side. Gregor felt like a target for the dragon’s anger and imagined becoming a pile of cinders to be swept out in the morning.

“I can make fire, again,” Percy said proudly. “I wasn’t able to do that for centuries and then I found out how to do it again. Well, being able to defend myself, I decided to become more of a dragon. What do you suggest?”

“Look, Percy, there are a lot of villages in the valleys around here,” Gregor said. “Maybe you could spread your activities around a bit. You know, concentrating on one village might bring unwanted attention. There have already been other complaints, too.”

“And, who are you to make suggestions about my life?” Percy asked with a puff of ominous smoke.

“Now, Percy, don’t be getting yourself in an uproar,” Deirdre said. “You know, we’ve talked about this already.”

“Yes, Deirdre, but who is this man?”

“I am Gregor the Sorcerer, I live a few mountains from here,” Gregor said, not wanting to give away his exact location in case Percy decided to exact a little revenge on the cottage. He was fairly certain the magic would protect Edwina-Tim, plus the pixies, and of course, Harold, but not being forthcoming sometimes avoided unhappy experiences later.

“It’s the sorcerer, Deirdre!” Percy exclaimed with a small flame. “Well, why didn’t you say so? You’re famous; you know that, don’t you? Everybody talks about you and how you’ve suddenly become the arbiter of this part of Hymballia.”

“Hymballia? I’m not familiar with that term,” Gregor said suddenly feeling a strange, powerful tingling sensation coursing over and through his body. He felt like he was growing in size and height. He could see beyond as he’d never seen before. He stood up and, raising his right fist into the air, said with unexpected vigor, “I am Gregor, eighteenth in the line of the Psimilias Sorcerers of Hymballia. I have the power of sight. I claim the right of Psimilia. I am Gregor the Sorcerer!”

Lightening shot out of his fist and danced around the cavern until finally grounding out on a quartz vein.

“Er, I didn’t know I could do that,” Gregor said as he sat back down, very perplexed. “Must have been that word, right?”

“Hymballia is the ancient, legendary name for this part of the Hinterlands,” Deirdre said. “No one uses it except the other beings.”

“Okay, I’ll try to be less obvious,” Percy said. “Do you know of any other dragons? I’ve been alone here for a long, long time and would like to see another dragon, if you could. Please?”

“I’ll look into it,” Gregor said and then he was home.

- - - - - - - - - -

They were close, very close to the mountains, now. The path was narrow, but still clearly distinct as it wound its way around and, a couple of times, through trees in a great forest. It was get on toward time to stop and camp and they were looking for a spot near a small stream for cooking water and maybe a soak. Pink had kind of gotten used to the Hinterland habit of having a good soak at the end of the day, whether it was hot or cold, as it would be tonight.

Finally, rounding a giant fir trunk they heard a small stream gurgling among the trees ahead. After a few more trees, they came to what was barely a rill across the path. Pink stopped to get down, but Arthur stayed on his horse.

“Come on, you know I need help with my armor,” Pink said. He was tired and though he didn’t want to sound nasty, he felt angry about something. It’d been a long ride from the last burg and they wouldn’t encounter another until crossing the pass ahead.

“There’re nymphs here,” Arthur said not making any movement to indicate he was dismounting.

“And that’s good or bad?” Pink asked as he put his right foot down onto the path. It immediately sank until he was knee deep. Unbalanced, he fell back wrenching his left foot out of the stirrup. Luckily his horse didn’t bolt.

“What the hell?” Pink exclaimed. “What’s going on, Arthur?”

“Nymphs,” Arthur said quietly. “We’ve upset them somehow. Can you pull your leg out of the path? No? It must be the steel. Nymphs don’t like smelted ore. I guess I’ll have to get down and help you.”

“I think it’d be best if we took off your armor,” Arthur said once he’d dismounted and come around to where Pink was sitting with his left leg stretched out and his right magically sunk in solid soil. “We’re going to have to be careful about this or they’ll take it all, you along with it.”

“Suck me, all of me, into the soil?” Pink stammered. “I always thought nymphs were rather innocuous creatures.”

“Not in the Hinterlands,” Arthur said as he unlatched the helmet. He carried it back to the last ass where he tied it to the appropriate post. The removal process took some time, but eventually he came to the leg pieces. The left was easy as it came apart as it should. The right, stuck in the path, was a different matter entirely. The thigh portion was removed and they figured they could take off the knee, too, but everything below the knee was stuck solidly in the soil. Eventually they decided to attempt to pull Pink’s leg out of the armor and then try to figure out how they were to retrieve the armor.

“Ow! Careful, my ankle doesn’t turn like that,” Pink said as he tried to wriggle his foot free as Arthur pulled. Normally the foot piece was separated from the shin armor before pulling out the foot, but that wasn’t going to work this time. “Damn! I swear if I ever get my hands on a nymph . . .”

“Shut up! You’ll only make them mad at you,” Arthur said. “Like I said, it’s the armor they don’t like. You make them angry and you won’t have to worry about a dragon killing you, the whole forest around here will absorb you, me, and the horses.”

“You forgot the asses,” Pink said smiling.

“Nymphs like asses. They’ll be unburdened then set free. Come on, pull your foot out, we can’t let the sun go down with you stuck in the path.”

“It’ll suck all of me down, won’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Arghh! Oh, shit this hurts. Oh, fuck!” Pink exclaimed as he worked and worked and worked and pulled and pulled and pulled and wriggled and wriggled and pulled and pulled until his foot finally came up out of the armor.

“You forgot your stocking,” Arthur said.

“You get it, page,” Pink huffed as he massaged his sore foot.

“Yes, Sir Knight, and would you be desirous of a good fuck tonight, too?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” Pink said, “my foot hurts. Is that armor going to come out?”

“Just a sec’.”

In half a minute the shin, ankle, and foot armor rose up out of the soil without their assistance and the hole closed below it. Both men stared at the steel standing before them as if it was waiting for something.

“They gave it back because you weren’t in it,” Arthur said picking up the armor. “You being part of the armor must have been an abomination to them.”

“That’s weird,” Pink said as he stood up. “Well, do we camp here or go further down the trail?”

“You being a knight, with armor, it’d probably be good to leave here,” Arthur said. “Just a sec’, let me see what the nymphs say.”

“You speak nymph?” Pink asked incredulously.

“No, but I speak a bit of fairy talk and it’s similar. Maybe there’re some fairies over in the berry bushes. Nymphs and fairies are usually found in the same places.”

Arthur walked into the brambles until he was no longer visible. Pink couldn’t hear any words or sounds that might have been words. The only thing audible was the sounds of the forest. He stood beside his horse watching the rill and could’ve sworn it was deepening and spreading further out across the stone covered ford. A pool behind the ford began to form attracting a family of wood ducks who, other than an odd glance or two, completely ignored Pink. It was almost as if he, too, was a part of the forest.

“Whew! We’re in luck, a plethora of fairies live around here, too,” Arthur said when he came back. Suddenly, he ran to the pool in the rill shouting, “Shoo! Get out of the water! Go! Go! Find some other water!”

The ducks chattered as they scurried down the now much larger stream.

“Stupid ducks! Put out a puddle and they think it’s their personal privy,” Arthur said as he walked back toward Pink. “Why didn’t you shoo them away?”

“I’m gentry,” Pink said. “We had a gamesman who took care of that sort of thing.”

“Well, you can’t expect me to do that now,” Arthur said. “I suppose you want me to cook supper too.”

“No, I’ll put something together,” Pink said.

“You can’t cook. You can’t boil water. You can’t butter bread. Last week you practically sliced off your thumb when cutting the bread. I’ll cook and then I’m going to fuck you, long and hard.”

“What about the nymphs and fairies?” Pink asked.

“They’ll probably just applaud at the end of the show,” Arthur said with a smirk. “They’re like that, but you wouldn’t know that, not being from the Hinterlands and being gentry and all.”

“Maybe we should ride on,” Pink said.

“No, we can’t do that.” Arthur said.

“And, why not?”

“The nymphs and fairies said it’s okay if we stay here for the night. We can’t leave.”

“What’ll they do? Oh, yeah, we’ve already gone over that part, haven’t we? Well, can I at least attempt to help with supper? Oh, just one other thing, what’s a plethora?”

“Oh, yes, I keep forgetting you’re not from hereabouts,” Arthur said as he began unsaddling his horse. “A plethora of fairies is like a gaggle of geese, a murder of crows, or a gam of whales. You know, one is a fairy, two are a couple fairies, three or so is a few fairies, and more than a few is a plethora.”

“What’re whales?” Pink asked.

“Sheesh, didn’t you pay attention in school or did you even go?” Arthur asked as he moved over to Pink’s horse.

“I was home schooled by a tutor,” Pink said proudly. “I can add and subtract up to ten.”

“You can’t multiply or divide, can you?” Arthur asked with a smirk.

“What’s that and why do I need to know that? Isn’t that stuff a clerk would take care of? I’m gentry, we don’t do clerking.”

“Well, then, you’re lucky I’m here because, trust me on this, you’re probably going to need to know a few more things than sitting around on your ass staring at fair maidens.”

- - - - - - - - - -

The path led them to the tree line and up and over a rocky, partially snow covered pass. Just before going down the other side they were stopped by two dwarfs holding axes.

“And, who be you?” one of the dwarfs asked. They were nearly identical with black boots that came up to their knees, brown leather leggings under a brown leather tunic that was held by an iron chain belt. Their brown leather caps came down to their pointed ears and bushy eyebrows. What skin wasn’t covered with a scraggly greenish beard was nearly bright red, giving them a somewhat festive appearance.

“Yeah, who be you?” the other asked.

“Shut yours! I’m the one askin’,” the other said.

“I am Pink Daisy, knight of Baron Daisy’s manor, and this is Arthur, my page,” Pink said with an officious voice. He turned to Arthur with a questioning look.

“If you’ll excuse my lord, he is not a Hinterlandian and is from beyond the great river of the east,” Arthur said as he dismounted. He walked over to the dwarfs and knelt on one knee before them. “I see by your insignia you are of the Great Snowy Mountain clan. How may we assist you sirs?”

“Is he a real knight?” the first dwarf asked.

“He’s kind of short for a knight,” the second offered.

“I said to shut yours! I’m the one in charge here,” the first said.

“Yes, he is on a quest to slay a dragon,” Arthur said.

“Then he’s just the knight we’re seeking,” the first said, “but he is kind of short for a knight.”

“He makes it all up in bravery, I assure you,” Arthur said. “You implied you’re looking for a knight.”

“Yes, we’re on our way to the great river of the east where there’s reputed to be a kingdom that might have knights to slay the dragon in our midst.”

“You have a dragon?” Pink asked.

Arthur gave him a look that could kill. Pink shrugged in innocence.

“Forgive him, he doesn’t know your ways,” Arthur said.

“If he wasn’t a knight looking to slay a dragon, I’d have split his helm,” the first said. “You will travel with us, there is a suitable camp half a league down. We should be there before nightfall. I am Karn. This is my cousin Kisk.”

“If I may ask, is there a sorcerer available?” Arthur asked as he remounted his horse.

“Yes, but his wife is indisposed with child at the moment,” Karn said. “All of the mountain folk are excited at the prospect of a few little humans running around making a nuisance of themselves. You will like Gregor, but he is from beyond the great river, too. His mate is kind of strange for a human, though, not bad strange, just strange strange. You’ll see what I mean when we get there.”

“How far is it to the sorcerer?” Pink asked.

“Impertinent, isn’t he?” Karn asked no one in particular. “Since he’s not a Hinterlandian, I’ll excuse him, but he’d better stop speaking when not spoken to or somebody’s going to find an axe cleaving them vertically. Nearly three hundred leagues is my best guess.”

Pink took the hint and left the discussions to Arthur and Karn, who were in the lead anyway. Kisk walk in front of him, but Pink didn’t wish to earn his wrath, too. He just took in the view of the mountains and the valley below. A huge wall of ice hung off the mountain on the opposite side of the valley. Now and then, there’d be a deafening boom followed by a shower of ice falling to the rocks below. Pink was glad the trail didn’t go that way, but then he looked up and saw something equally unnerving. Another mass of ice seemed to be about to plummet down upon them causing him to wish Karn would walk a bit faster.