dragonslayer

Chapter 1

The mountain road climbed steadily through the pines, winding around granite outcroppings that had stood watch over Valdenmoor longer than any king. Prince Aldric preferred this part of the kingdom to the castle below. The air smelled of damp earth and evergreen instead of candle wax and polished stone, and no one expected a prince to smile politely at diplomats while riding a horse.

His gray stallion picked its way over the uneven trail, ears flicking at every unfamiliar sound drifting through the forest. Behind him, the rest of the company followed several lengths back, armor clinking softly with the horses' slow, deliberate climb. They had spoken little since leaving the castle. The mountain seemed to discourage conversation, replacing it with the sigh of wind through the pines and the distant rush of unseen streams.

Captain Brenn eventually guided his own mount alongside the prince.

"You've been quiet."

Aldric smiled without looking over. "I was hoping if I stayed quiet long enough, the dragon might decide I wasn't coming."

Brenn barked a laugh.

"I'll remember that when the court poets insist you charged up the mountain singing battle hymns."

"They'll probably add a white horse while they're at it."

"You are riding a white horse."

Aldric looked down at the pale gray mane beneath his hands.

"So I am."

For a while they rode on in comfortable silence, each pretending not to notice the mountain looming larger with every turn in the road.

Ashfang Peak finally emerged from the morning mist, its upper slopes bare and black against the pale sky. A thin ribbon of smoke drifted lazily from somewhere beyond the summit, so ordinary at this distance that it might have belonged to a farmer's chimney instead of the most feared creature in the kingdom.

Neither man needed to ask what produced it.

Brenn rested one hand on the pommel of his saddle. "We can still wait for the rest of the King's Guard."

"And give the dragon another day?"

"It has already had three."

Aldric nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on the mountain.

Three days.

Long enough for rumors to spread through every village in Valdenmoor. Long enough for frightened farmers to swear they had seen the dragon circling distant fields. Long enough for every noble in the kingdom to begin quietly discussing what Princess Caelle's disappearance might mean for the alliance with House Aster.

Politics.

Even now.

He wondered whether anyone had stopped to consider what the princess herself might be enduring.

"I barely know her," he said at last.

Brenn glanced sideways.

"No."

"We've met often enough to exchange polite conversation, but..." He searched for the right words. "She deserves better than becoming the subject of negotiations before anyone has even tried to bring her home."

The captain studied him for a moment before smiling.

"You've been spending too much time listening to your mother."

"My father says the same thing."

"And your mother?"

"She tells him that's why she married him."

Brenn chuckled softly. "A wise woman."

The conversation eased something inside Aldric that he hadn't realized was tightening. Fear was an odd thing. Speaking around it was sometimes easier than speaking about it.

He reached into the leather satchel hanging beside his saddle and withdrew a folded parchment. The wax seal had already been broken and refolded so many times that it barely held together.

"The wizard's letter again?" Brenn asked.

Aldric nodded.

"I keep wondering why he changed his mind."

The first instructions had been waiting before dawn.

Cross the southern ridge.

Keep the wind at your back.

Avoid the western approach.

Simple. Precise. Entirely like Vane.

Then, less than an hour after they'd left the castle, a lone courier had caught them on the road carrying a second letter. The first instructions were to be ignored.

These replaced them.

Your Highness,

Approach from Blackwatch Tower instead. The ascent is longer, but the mountain itself will conceal your approach until the final ridge.

— Vane

"They seem reasonable enough," Brenn said after Aldric folded the parchment once more.

"They do."

"So what's bothering you?"

Aldric slipped the letter back into the satchel and rested one hand against the leather flap.

"Vane doesn't change his mind."

It was an odd thing to say aloud.

The old wizard had advised three generations of Valdenmoor's kings. As far back as Aldric could remember, Vane had possessed an uncanny habit of arriving at the correct conclusion before anyone else had fully recognized there was a question to answer. Courtiers occasionally disagreed with him. Generals sometimes argued.

In the end, they almost always discovered the old man had been right.

Changing his mind...

That was unlike him.

The trail narrowed until the riders were forced into single file. Branches brushed against polished armor, scattering beads of water across bright steel. Gradually the pines began to thin, revealing glimpses of black stone beyond.

The mountain opened into a broad valley strewn with weathered ruins. Broken walls clung stubbornly to the cliffs, the remains of an ancient fortress that had once guarded the northern pass. Time had reduced it to little more than crumbling towers and shattered battlements.

Beyond it, black cliffs climbed toward the mouth of a vast cavern.

The horses slowed of their own accord.

Even they could smell the dragon now.

Aldric rested one hand upon the hilt of his sword. His heartbeat quickened—not from doubt, exactly, but from the uncomfortable realization that no amount of training truly prepared a man to face a creature that belonged more to legend than history.

He drew a slow breath and looked back over the men riding behind him.

"Stay close."

Then, without another word, he nudged his horse down into the valley.

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