Dragon Heart

The sky had been threatening with heavy dark clouds all morning, but it wasn't until Dravis Stone lit up a cigarette that the storm finally broke. A fat drop landed directly on the lit cherry, which hissed into a soggy, inert mess. Sighing, he tossed it away.

The mountain pass was narrow, craggy, and full of grass clumps dry from the sun. It had been a scorcher of a summer, and even up here, where it was relatively cooler, you could still see the affects.

Despite the heat, he was wearing full leather armor over chain mail. Even though it had ruined his smoke, he was grateful for the rain. It should cool things down.

Dravis soldiered on up the mountain.

According to the gossip from the pub patrons in the nearby village of Sunter, a dragon had taken up residence in an old cave near the summit of this mountain. He wasn't completely certain he could trust such a sotted source, but it was the best lead he had to go on.

Dravis had never killed a dragon before. Hunting them had been outlawed since before he was born, largely due to the work of the dragon expert Anise Bennings, whose work showed that they were not the mindlessly bloodthirsty monsters most had believed. Although of course a few aggressive specimens existed, dragons were largely content to leave humans alone. . . unless provoked.

And Dravis intended to provoke.

Not that he was a provocative man by nature. This was not a trophy hunt, nor was he trying to chase a thrill.

The rain ceased almost as quickly as it began. He lit another cigarette and took a deep drag. Upon his exhale, the wind carried away the sinuous gray smoke. He continued the climb, trying not to think, and failing. Against his will, he recalled the conversation he had had the previous day.

"She needs medicine," the witch said in a hushed tone. She did not look the way Dravis expected a witch to look. For one, she was only in her early 20's, hardly more than a child really, and ethereally beautiful.

"I know she does," Dravis responded in a similar tone. "That's why I sent for you."

The witch looked over Tamara's sleeping form, so small and frail. She said, "Her spirit is strong, but her body is fighting itself. She needs Caputsom elixir."

"How much would that cost?"

"Not much," she said. "But getting the ingredients. . . that's the tricky part."

Dravis looked at his sleeping daughter. The dark, half-moon bruises beneath her closed eyes, her sallow skin, the sunken cheeks.

"What do I need to do?" he asked.

A hawk's cry pierced the quiet of the day as it soared overhead, bringing Dravis out of his thoughts. He watched the bird glide off and continued climbing.

The path was growing more narrow with each step, and the incline became more severe. By the time he reached the small plateau at the mouth of the cave, he was breathless and his legs burned.

It was called Hobbs' Cave, for reasons he did not know. It was something of a rite of passage for teenagers to sneak up here and party. He supposed, if he looked at it in a certain light, getting rid of this dragon would then eliminate a possible threat to the local children. Or was that a pale, twisted justification? He couldn't tell.

Dravis pulled out his bow, notching an arrow carrying a powerful, fast-acting poison. Each arrow cost a whole gold piece, so he only had two. He had to make the shots count. He approached the cave.

Enough light filtered in to illuminate the fact that it was currently empty, save a freshly ravaged deer carcass. So there was indeed some sort of predator in residence. The only other possibility would be a saber cat, but he doubted one would have dragged the deer all the way up to the cave before snacking on it. No, this was the kill of something that could easily carry a seventy pound deer.