Chapter 1: Winged Terror

The morning mist hung low over the valley, the obscuring haze blanketing the forests and fields below, reflecting the vibrant reds and oranges of the rising sun. The shepherd shielded his eyes for a moment as he looked out over the vista, the chill wind whipping at his long beard and tugging at his cloak. He wrapped the garment around himself a little tighter, then whistled for his sheepdog, the animal coming bounding towards him from around a protrusion of jagged rocks. Her ears were pricked up, her eyes bright and attentive, her pink tongue lolling from her mouth as she raced towards her master.

The flock of sheep was making its way slowly up into the foothills in search of greener pastures, their bleating echoing across the mountain range. There were seven score and eight, he’d do another head count once they found a place to stop, just to make sure that they hadn’t lost any errant lambs on the way.

“Away lass, away,” he said with a wave of his crook. The black and white hound followed his command, running around to the right side of the herd, corralling a few ewes who had wandered from the group to inspect a patch of scruffy plants. The beasts trotted back to their fellows, their white wool blowing in the breeze. “Good girl, come now.”

The shepherd turned his eyes to the ground, careful to avoid any rocks that protruded from the blanket of grass and moss lest he twist an ankle. He leaned some of his weight on his crook, leading his flock higher, admiring the purple heather that broke up the sea of green and grey.

He finally emerged onto a plateau of sorts, a relatively flat area of grassland where his flock might graze. The sheep spread out under the watchful eye of the hound as the shepherd took a seat on a boulder, its cracked surface covered in patches of clinging lichen. He set his crook down and took a moment to breathe. His calves ached from the climb, and he leaned down to rub his leg, glancing up at the mountain that loomed in the distance.

The sunrise was casting its craggy face into deep shadow, picking out every detail of the rocks and cliffs. Its tall peak was capped with brilliant, white snow, sheathed in wisps of cloud. The shepherd was used to the sight, but something about it seemed oddly ominous today. It looked so cold and distant, sharp and harsh, jutting into the blue sky like an arrowhead.

He narrowed his eyes as he noticed that something else was reflecting the light. There was some kind of object on the near face, glinting as it caught the sun. Confused, he took his crook in hand and stood up, whistling for his sheepdog. The hound ran over to him, wagging her tail as she sat at his feet, the shepherd scratching her head absent-mindedly as he kept his gaze fixed on the strange object. It was drawing closer, descending the mountainside like a swooping hawk on a pair of giant wings, a long tail trailing behind it. By the time he realized that it was coming in his direction, it was too late.

The great beast was upon the flock in a flash, a gust of wind throwing the shepherd off his feet, and sending the sheep scattering like woolly tumbleweeds as the flapping of its leathery wings kicked up a hurricane. He was peppered with a hail of dirt and small stones as he frantically tried to pick himself up, retreating behind the cover of the boulder, taking his sheepdog by the scruff of her neck and dragging her with him as she whined. The ground shook beneath the monster’s feet as it dropped from the sky, making a sound like a thunderclap, its long talons digging deep into the soil to leave furrows in their wake like a plow tilling a field.

Its bat-like wings folded across its back as it stood tall on its four legs, as thick and as round as marble pillars. Its serpentine tail waved back and forth along the ground, cracking like a whip. Its body was covered in a layer of thick, overlapping scales that resembled a suit of shining armor, catching the light in iridescent hues of sky blue and ocean green. They tapered to a lighter beige on its underbelly, the scales there smoother and finer, like a mosaic. Powerful muscles rippled beneath its hide as it moved, it radiated such power and strength that it was almost overwhelming, a force of nature more than a simple animal. He couldn’t believe its size, it must have been almost thirty feet from nose to tail, and its weight was enough to make the ground tremble.

The shepherd chanced a glance at it from his hiding place, cowering in terror even as his curiosity commanded him to peek around the rock, his dog huddling beneath him with her tail tucked between her legs as she tended to do when there was a storm.

Upon its long, winding neck was a head of massive proportions, near as long as a man was tall. Four twisted horns sprouted from a mane of pointed quills on the top of its heavy skull, almost like those of a ram, but straighter and swept back. The quills ran all the way down its spine, reminding him of the flowing mane of a horse. Unlike hair, however, these were stiff and wickedly sharp. They were patterned with faded stripes in the same beige as its underside, and as he watched, they began to move. The monster eyed the scrambling sheep, the quills shaking, making an ominous rattling sound that reminded him of the hiss of an angry snake.

Its scaly lips pulled back to reveal rows of pointed teeth as long as a man’s finger, its eyes burning with infernal heat, like a pair of smoldering coals. With every breath, it exhaled a plume of black smoke from its nostrils, as though there was a furnace burning inside of its very body.

It sucked in an enormous breath of air, rearing back on its hind legs until it was taller than the tallest of trees, its barrel chest inflating as it filled its lungs. It lunged forward, its jaws opening as it belched a plume of orange fire. The shepherd recoiled, the heat of it singing his eyebrows even from a distance, the nearby blades of grass withering before his eyes. Above the roar of the flames, he heard his sheep bleating in agony as they burned.

He no longer dared to look, wrapping his arms around his trembling dog as if to shield her from the heat, even the rock against his back seeming to warm in the firestorm. He heard snapping jaws, along with a low, guttural growl that shook his very bones. The monster’s feet made the earth shake, and then there was another gust of wind, its wings so powerful that they were able to dislodge stones and tear up plants. He could hear the debris pounding against the other side of the boulder, and he feared that it might be enough to cause a landslide. The flames were roaring now, its flapping serving as bellows, fanning the blaze.

The beast rose into the sky, and then with one last monumental flap of its enormous wings, it set off down into the valley. The shepherd watched as it flew over his head, so close that he could have reached up and touched its belly if he had been standing on the boulder, a pair of charred sheep clasped in its clawed forelimbs. Something rained down on him from above, clattering on the stone, but he was too awed by the sight to pay any attention. It banked, rising up towards the shadowy mountain from whence it had come, slowly shrinking until it was once again naught but a glimmer of reflected sunlight.

The shepherd rose to his feet unsteadily, releasing his hound, the sheepdog sticking close to her master as she whined unhappily. He rounded the boulder to see what remained of his flock, little more than charred corpses sitting atop blasted grass, the fires still smoldering amidst the blackened bones and scorched shrubs. He could smell the charred flesh, like overdone mutton. The creature must have devoured fully half of his flock, four score at least, and the rest had either been eaten whole or were too burnt to be recognized. The survivors had scattered, and he wasn’t sure that even the dog could fetch them after such an ordeal.

He coughed, choking on the smoke as he gazed at his ruined livelihood, and then he spied something shiny on the ground. He stooped to pick it up, turning the object over in his hand. It was a gold coin, heavy for its size, stamped with the seal of a kingdom that he did not recognize. There were more like it, scattered about everywhere that the beast had trod. Was this what had rained down on him as it had passed overhead? Had they been lodged in its scales, perhaps?

He began to collect them, growing more frantic as he went, dropping one of the coins and cursing as it burned his hand. It must have been blasted by the flames. Before long, his pockets were overflowing. He wasn’t an educated man, but he knew how to count sheep, and there was enough gold here to make up for his losses. He chanced another look at the mountain peak, but the creature was out of sight. Might that be its lair? He had herded sheep in these hills for his entire life, and he had never seen anything of the like.

“Come, lass,” he mumbled as his dog cowered at his feet. “We must tell the magistrate what we saw, though I doubt he’ll believe aught that I say. They’d think me mad if it wasn’t for these coins.”

The rain lashed down on Iden’s cowl as his horse trudged through the mud, its hooves slipping in the filth. The terrain was hard going and uneven, difficult to navigate for a man wearing a heavy suit of armor, and so he was glad of his steed. There were tracks here, partially washed away by the water, but still visible enough that he could make them out in the gloom. Cartwheels, horseshoes, and boots. The path was well traveled.

This valley was a nightmare, there seemed to be dark clouds hanging overhead in perpetuity, and water collected at the foot of the hills like a wash basin. It was damp, muddy, and thoroughly miserable. He adjusted his pack, his armor clanking as he made his way along, finding it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of him in the downpour. He was burdened by his tower shield, too, as well as a long pike with a pointed spearhead. The horse’s ears flicked with irritation, it wasn’t happy to be out in the rain any more than he was, but it kept the pace dutifully.

He finally glimpsed the warm, yellow glow of a lamp in the distance, his destination was near. The village was nestled in the hills, hard to reach on foot, and quite out of the way of the usual trade routes. The wooden buildings almost seemed to be sagging under the constant rain, the water washing off their steep, thatched roofs in great sheets. Usually, when someone of his caliber was called out to one of these remote communities, it was to deal with bandits or highwaymen. Rarer still were Orcs and other such marauding creatures. This time, however, the bounty was for a creature so seldom seen that some doubted their existence.

A dragon had been sighted, and the crown had put a price on its head. The Paladins usually dealt with such matters, they had the ear of the King, but they weren’t about to march an army all the way out here to deal with a beast that was snacking on sheep.

A dragon slayer, Iden was not. They were creatures of legend, and their numbers had dwindled to the point that only one or two might be spotted during a lifetime. There had been no opportunities to earn such a title. But he was a hardened mercenary, and the promise of a hefty reward had gotten his attention, along with the beast’s hoard.

It was said that dragons nested in a hoard of gold and jewels, riches beyond men’s wildest dreams. If one could slay the creature, then they could also claim those riches for themselves. Coupled with the generous bounty, he would be able to retire early, and live out the rest of his days like a Lord. There would be no more trudging through the rain for Iden, only wine and women, until he expired on a silken sheet in the company of the best whores that money could buy.

Chapter 2 »