Dragon Slayer

There weren't always dragons in the valley, only the small gray ones, specifically, the three gray ones that were the offspring of the great dragon, Narsis.

“Egad,” I said to myself.

The hatchlings often would travel great distances from their mother and her lair, hunting for food. All a farmer could do was hope the creatures would find something to eat before they descended this far south. You couldn’t yell, scream, or wave a sword around in an attempt to scare them off as that just emboldens them. Confronting them makes them even more of a danger. Anyway, the lair was in a massive cave in the highest part of the Chimera Mountains. From my porch, I can spot the lair in a swath of black rock on the tallest of the middle peaks. Sometimes, when I lose one of my animals to the hatchlings, I wished I had been a dragon slayer.

I’m Farmer Gladstone, and I raise animals for food to King Roundtree and Farmas City. I’m paid in silver pieces. My ranch is in the exact center of the Necromance Valley. The tall fences that I had built, surrounding my grey brick house and barns are visible from a great distance. The ivory color of the wide wooden slats stands out against the green expanse of the oak forest behind my property. Over the last two years, I believe I have suffered the most damage from these hatchlings and it’s King Rountree’s duty to help protect us, the cultivators. He’s done nothing to show us change. You would think, since we supply food for his majesty, his court, and the citizens, that he would protect it, but no, he doesn’t. I suspect the scars from the past, have caused this reluctance. All who live in the Necromance Valley remember the devastating day, twenty years ago, when Narsis came and sought revenge for the slaying of one of her hatchlings. Because of the damages and loss in the incident, the king forbade the hiring of dragon slayers in the province. The law in the valley was strict, and there was no changing it. In the law it was inscribed, very simply: No lances or weapons for the slaying of dragons are allowed in Necromance Valley. To violate this order could result in a perpetrator being banished, imprisoned, or executed. But in my mind, this was insanity, because something eventually had to be done about these hatchlings. We had to be able to defend ourselves, property, and livestock. The creatures were only going to get bigger and more dangerous. But fear of Narsis seemed to rule the autocracy. Authorities kept putting off dealing with the infestation, making the usual statements: the hatchlings are still young…The fencing around property seems to be working temporarily…until we figure this out. The hatchlings won’t reach adulthood for ten more years, so we have time…We do encourage farmers to invest in glass mirrors, put these mirrors on your bordering fence…Dragon Slayers have stated often, and it has been proven that the creatures are starkly afraid of their own reflection.

The tall fence that I constructed, that extends all the way to the olive-blue Tames River, helped a little to keep the nefarious things out; But the hatchlings, with their long scaly insect-like legs could leap over the eight-foot fence. The beady eyed carnivores had large heads and interminable grins of sharp yellow teeth; they were an extreme threat to human life too.

I hadn’t purchased any mirrors yet, as they are too expensive, and I can’t afford them. Farmer Bower, who’s farm resides east of my property, said the mirrors he had purchased seemed to help significantly, and that he might donate one to me, but he hadn’t yet. So many times, when a hatchling would intrude the corrals, I would just hide and watch as they took a goat or a lamb. It made me so sad, angry, and frustrated. And then, when the young dragons got their fill, they would skitter, disappearing into the misty haze and foliage of the valley floor.

I heard about Complaints that these hatchlings were seen as far east as Nethers. Apparently, cows were being lost there.

The next afternoon, I went with three buckets to get water from the Tames River. The sun was orange and oblong, veiled in gray clouds that were smeared like someone had tried to erase the sky. I opened the wooden gate and went outside the barrier. I latched the gate securely, behind me. I approached the river with the wide wooden buckets. Then I knelt in the green grass and dark mud by the moving water. I started filling the buckets. As I filled the first bucket, I looked down and saw my reflection. My leather mail shirt was glassy green, my broad chin and cheeks were contorted, my dark brown eyes gleamed. Or were they grassy green? I mused. I looked back over my shoulder and through the fence at my property. I pondered the great angst I had been having over all the constraints imposed on the farmers.

The goats and sheep were by the barn; there were seven goats and six sheep, I heard one neigh. Then I looked back at my reflection, and suddenly I saw a woman standing over my left shoulder. She was in a white flowing gown and had long white hair. I was startled and I slipped sideways to look behind me to see her directly. I nearly fell in the river; somehow, I managed to not lose the bucket in the current. But I found that when I came about, I saw that there was nobody there. I was positive I had just seen a woman in the water. I harrumphed. But I had seen a woman. She was crystal clear before, I swear, but now it seems she’s gone. Then I gathered myself, took a breath, setting the bucket aside, and looked again at my reflection.

I gazed into the water, and I waited, the current rippled pleasantly. Then, there was a flashing and she appeared again, over my shoulder in the pool.

“Don’t turn around, keep looking in the water,” she told me in a tinny and crackled voice. “I am not what you think I am,” she said. She was thin and her face was stark white and narrow, yet beautiful. There was another part of me that felt treachery abound, especially given her crimson glimmering eyes.