Dragon Piper

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,” said Magnus. “You know this.” He pointed at the village elders seated at a long table before him. “Each of you. But now there are, and we must deal with them.”

Behind him, villagers crowded in where they could find room, squeezing in to fill the empty spaces. Smoke from torchlight hung in the air; the occasional cough interrupted the gallery’s overall silence.

Standing in front of the table, Magnus removed the cover from his shortened right arm, making a show of rubbing the scarred end. He laid the stump cover—a hard leather boot fitted with short spikes—on the table where the elders could see it.

Life was difficult before they came,” Magnus said. “I know this because once I farmed the land, same as you.”

Magnus raised the arm, turning a slow circle to give all those assembled—village elders and townspeople alike—a good view. Several people drew in a breath. A few murmured. But no one looked away.

That’s right. Get a good look.

“Since they emerged from their long sleep, your lives have been forever altered.” He lifted his arm higher. “As has mine.”

Nods from the council members emboldened him.

“Because of this, I farm no longer.” Magnus retrieved the stump cover, grimacing as he twisted it into place.

A woman covered her mouth, stifling a cry.

His gesture seemed to have the desired effect. Magnus met her eyes and nodded.

“Yes. One not only took my arm, it stole my life.” He looked away as the woman wiped at her tears, then he returned his attention to the elders. “I had a family. But now, my wife and my children are gone. A dragon took everything from me.” He brought his shortened arm down hard against the tabletop. “But I took its life in payment.”

He stepped back from the table. “Give me what I ask, and I’ll rid this world of their blight.”

More murmuring, this time from the five elders huddled close.

When they finished their consultation, the chief elder asked, “What do you require to end this plague?”

Easy, Magnus. Don’t gloat. Not yet. The deal is not done.

“You must allow me three demands.”

“Name them. You shall have them if they are within our power to grant.”

“First, five men of my choosing, outfitted and paid during this ordeal.”

“Granted.”

“You shall reward any who return with land and servants of sufficient number to sustain a farm.”

The elders huddled again for a long moment.

“That is agreeable,” the chief elder said. “And your last request?”

Magnus held the elder’s gaze. “I’m to be made earl of this region.”

“Outrageous,” one elder shouted.

“You’re mad,” said another.

The gallery of onlookers all started yelling at once.

The chief elder raised a hand. “Silence, all of you.”

When order was restored, the elder asked, “What assurances do we have that you can do this thing?”

Magnus shrugged. “None. I make no guarantee of success.”

“Then why should this council agree to your demands?”

“Should I fail, it will cost you nothing. But when every dragon is gone from this world, it will be worth the cost.”

The elder stroked his beard, one eyebrow raised. “How will you accomplish this?”

“You do not need to know the specifics.”

“How long will this take? Can you say?”

Magnus shook his head. “I do not know how many there are.”

“You cannot expect this council to support you without end.”

Magnus shrugged.

The chief elder pursed his lips. He regarded Magnus with keen eyes, seeming to take a measure of him. At last, he nodded and said, “Very well. You have one year to do this. After that time, our agreement ends, whether or not you succeed.”

“I accept.”

“Very well. Choose your men.”

* * *