Lessons in Dragon Slaying

Ivar finally found his daughter. Unfortunately, he found her after the wild drake did.

Soot. His wife was going to kill him.

But first, he needed to make sure little Meleya didn’t… well, die.

Ivar darted toward the rim of the redrock canyon, gaining momentum before diving headfirst off the edge.

He fell fast, keeping his eyes on his three-year-old daughter as she stood in the dusty, rock spire-filled canyon bed. Meleya had been fast asleep in their nomad dragonhide tent when Ivar had hiked the canyon wall in search of a wild dragonturkey for that night’s dinner. She must’ve wandered downriver, exploring the forest of sandstone hoodoos on her own.

Ivar’s wife had been getting some much needed rest as well—she’d been so tired lately with their search for a new caravan to travel with. Ivar had promised to keep an eye on little Meleya while she slept.

Technically, he was still keeping that promise.

The wind cut against Ivar’s scruffy cheeks, tossing his hair as he lifted a finger to runetrace. Gold light followed his finger as the rune glowed to life over his forehead. Just before he splattered against the stone at the bottom of the sheer canyon wall, Ivar made a pulling motion with his hands.

The dragonleather pauldron straps across his chest responded to his action, pulling him upward as Ivar telekinetically slowed his descent. He landed on his feet, red dust billowing up around him. He grinned, pretty proud of how smoothly that had gone.

His daughter’s yelp pulled him back into the moment as he saw her fleeing the wild dragon. Right. There was no time for a pat on the back—even if that had been a ten out of ten telekinetic landing.

The dark, muddy colored drake reared up on its hind legs as it pounced toward Meleya. Ivar reached toward her, telekinetically grabbing her by the scruff of the cloak and dragging her out of the way in the nick of time. Ivar chuckled under his breath as the dragon ate dirt.

They were still several yards away from Ivar as the drake recovered from its fruitless pounce. Drakes were wingless, but even on foot Meleya didn’t stand a chance of outrunning a fully grown dragon. Not with legs that short.

Running faster than he ever had before, Ivar thrust a hand forward. The rune still aglow over his forehead pulsed, and with another psionic push on his dragonleather straps, Ivar boosted himself toward Meleya. The extra push made him stumble, but he telekinetically caught himself by the straps across his chest.

“Yee haw!” Ivar yelled at the top of his lungs as he waved a hand toward the drake. “Little Meli ain’t good eatin,’ I can tell you that. Otherwise I’d’ve had her for a midday morsel myself long ago!”

The drake turned, looking confused by the absurd outburst, which Ivar counted as a success. It bought Meleya enough time to scramble behind a smooth, red sandstone ridge as Ivar slid between her and the wild drake.

The drake roared, annoyed that someone stood between him and the easy prey. Though judging by the wild, wingless dragon’s hungry green eyes, he was perfectly ready to devour any human foolish enough to cross his path.

“Taste my seaxe, Lord Drake,” Ivar taunted, reaching toward the sheath at his belt.

“Oh, soot.” Ivar swore when his fingers closed around nothing. He must’ve left his long, knife-style sword at the top of the canyon rim.

Ivar made an apologetic face. “I don’t suppose you’d mind waitin’ until I can run up there and grab my blade, illustrious Lord Drake?”

The wild dragon answered with a roar and a slash from his powerful claws. Ivar yelped, barely diving out of the way in time.

“Guess not,” Ivar mumbled as he quickly picked himself up out of the dirt. Luckily, Ivar always carried a backup weapon.

“No seaxe today, my friend,” Ivar grunted. “But say hello to my favorite dagger.”

When the drake’s next strike came, Ivar blocked the drake’s talons with the gleaming steel blade. The drake was much stronger than Ivar was, but he managed to redirect the creature’s forward motion away from him.

“Did you see that, Meleya?” Ivar called over his shoulder. “Should you ever find yourself engagin’ a wild drake, you ain’t never gonna overpower it. Instead, use its momentum against it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ivar saw a little head of snow white hair poke up from behind the sandstone ridge. She watched her father with wide eyes full of both terror and curiosity.

The brown scaled dragon reared back its head, and Ivar knew what was coming next.

“Duck!” he cried, using his psionic rune to pull Meleya back down behind the rock by her cloak. He barely had time to fling himself to the ground at the drake’s feet as the beast threw his head forward, bright green dragonfire blasting from his mouth toward Meleya’s hiding place. The flames charred the sandstone, but Meleya was safe on the other side. Ivar flattened himself against the sandy canyon floor as the flames jetted above him.

“Woowee,” Ivar panted, rolling to his feet. “Next lesson, Meleya. Should a wild dragon ever get to preparin’ a breath of dragonfire, your best choice is to shield. Don’t run away, or else they’ll just blast you from behind. If you ain’t got a shield, duck toward the dragon itself. He can’t roast himself, so the closer you can get the better.”

As Ivar spoke, the drake made another swipe at Ivar with his claw, followed by a lash with his spiked tail. It seemed confused by his nonchalant jabbering. Ivar slashed with his dagger, wishing he could use his telekinetics on the dragon. But psionic power didn’t work on living things.

“And Meleya,” Ivar said between stabs and dodges as he fought the wild drake. “The way you were runnin’ away earlier was all wrong.” He telekinetically pelted the drake with some loose shale to buy more time for instruction. “Never flee a dragon in a straight line. Always always weave. Got it?”

Ivar thought he heard a tiny “yes, daddy’ from behind the dragonfire-charred sandstone ridge. Sweat beaded along Ivar’s forehead—he was getting winded from all this ducking and rolling out of the way. Soot, this was so much easier with a sword. Time to end this thing.

“Watch carefully, Meleya,” Ivar instructed. He knew a lot of the others in the nomadic caravans tried to shield their children from the brutality of slaying a dragon. But Ivar figured Meleya had better learn the truth of their rough way of life sooner rather than later.

Ivar’s psionic rune glowed with golden light as he telekinetically raised his dagger into the air. He sent it flying toward the drake, pushing on it so that it avoided the beast’s slashing claws.

With a thrusting motion from his hand, Ivar drove the dagger straight into the drake’s vulnerable underside, right into its heart. The drake choked mid-roar as it fell lifeless to the sandy canyon floor with a thud.

“And there you go,” Ivar said, brushing his hands on the dragonleather armor flaps over his thighs. He mimed tipping his hat to the fallen drake. “Thank you kindly for the learnin’ opportunity for my girl, Lord Drake.”

Ivar turned to Meleya’s hiding place. “Any questions?”

He watched as his little girl cautiously crept around the edge of the sandstone ridge. She was eyeing the dead dragon with wide-eyed wonder.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked.

Ivar laughed, ruffling her messy white hair. But a twinge of worry tugged at the back of his mind. While it was entirely possible the wild drake had found Meleya by chance, deep down, Ivar feared the worst. Drakes and other wild dragons craved one thing above all else.

Ether.

The same ether Ivar channeled in order to use his psionics drew dragons from the wilds. It made magi a special target, and was the reason the realm labeled those with ether—like Ivar and his wife—outlaws. Ivar worried that this drake going after his daughter was the first sign that she might be a magi as well.

If she was, then the answer to her question was a definite yes. A lot of trouble lay ahead. But Meleya didn’t need the burden of all that right now.

Ivar walked over to the drake, yanking out his dagger by the hilt. Copper colored dragon’s blood dripped off the tip, and Ivar wiped it clean on the already dirty hem of his tunic.

He knelt down beside Meleya, carefully holding the blade of the dagger and offering her the hilt. Ivar could see the excited light in her eyes as she took the blade.

“You’re not in trouble,” Ivar smiled. “In fact, me givin’ you this dagger is a show of trust. No more runnin’ away while no one’s lookin,’ alright?”

Meleya nodded eagerly.

Ivar put his hands on his daughter’s shoulders and raised an eyebrow. “Now, I’ve got one final lesson for you today. And this is the most important one.”

Meleya leaned forward as she waited to hear what her father would say. Ivar’s face was deadly serious as he fiddled with the woven marriage bracelet around his right wrist.

“Not a word about any of this to Mom.”

Meleya and Ivar shook on it. Then Meleya watched as Ivar lit up his psionic rune to telekinetically drag the drake back to camp. It was easy now that it was dead. Ivar may’ve gone up to the rim in search of a chunk of tasty dragonturkey, but it seemed they’d be feasting on drake meat for weeks.