Dubious

The dragon plodded along slowly through the forest. It was a quiet morning, which wasn’t entirely abnormal. Not many creatures liked to hang around a dragon, even one as old as himself. He was hardly a danger to anyone though. His wings were shriveled and useless, he hadn’t breathed fire in ages, couldn’t see far away, and his hearing was spotty. If it wasn’t for his sharp sense of smell he might have just given up. He survived almost exclusively on defenseless sheep that wandered too close to his den(if he could catch them.) It wasn’t much, but it was honest work.

This particular morning seemed extra quiet as he went on his daily walk. The squirrels, birds, and rabbits that had no fear of his lumbering frame, were nowhere to be found. Odd thought the dragon. He took a great sniff of the air to see if he couldn’t solve the mystery. No animals, but he did smell human. Oh great thought the dragon, nothing good ever came from crossing paths with humans. Still, his curiosity was piqued, so he decided to investigate further.

He soon came to a place in the forest where a great road forked off in two directions. He came close to the path and sniffed around. He was careful to not step onto the road, nothing good ever came of human roads. At last his sniffing led him to a large oak tree. There was a small hollow at the base of the tree and inside was a tiny white bundle. Inside of the bundle was an even smaller human child, sound asleep. Curiouser and curiouser. He stared at the child wondering how it got there and where its keepers were. What a strange morning walk this had turned into.

Just then a new smell entered his nostrils. Iron. He knew the smell well, he had plenty of it back in his junk pile. This iron was different though, it was moving towards him. It was time to go. He glanced at the child once more and made to turn away, but something took hold of him. It was almost instinctual. The dragon had learned to listen to these feelings over the years.

He grabbed hold of the cloth bundle with his front teeth(the ones he still had anyway) and scampered up a nearby hill, just as a group of soldiers on horseback came prancing towards the fork in the road. He wasn’t sure what he would do with a human child. Perhaps he would raise it himself. All the other dragons had died out long ago, and he had to leave his hoard to somebody. He decided not to rush the decision, there would be plenty of time to consider this particular problem.

From his new vantage point the dragon made out roughly twenty soldiers, though it was hard to tell because they all seemed to blur together from this distance. They stopped at the fork and began searching around. Their leader was a knight in a full suit of armor. The dragon had encountered plenty of them in his day. Many knights had sought him out for a chance to earn honor and fame. They all failed, though a few of them did some lasting damage. He carried those scars with him to this day. He had a healthy fear of knights.

The knight began barking out orders. The dragon could not make out most of what was said, but he did hear the word “kill” which certainly changed things. He watched as seven or eight men went down one path, and a second group of similar size went down another. When the two groups had gone the knight motioned for the remaining men to follow him. They left their horses on the path and began searching the area around the tree where the dragon had found the baby. The knight bent over and studied the ground. After a while he stood and stared up the hill where the dragon hid. He silently motioned for the men to follow him, as he made his way up the hill.

Time to go. The dragon turned around with the bundle still dangling from his mouth and made his way back to his den. He did not know why he still kept the child. He could have saved himself a lot of trouble and left it for the soldiers that were clearly searching for it, but he just felt in his bones that it wasn’t a good idea, in fact he now knew he had to save it.

He hustled along as quickly as his bulky frame would allow. He knew the knight wouldn’t be far behind, so he had to hurry. He traveled through the forest down paths well known to him, until he came to a rocky outcrop not far from the river. His home.

He set the bundle down in the soft grass, and entered his cave. He began nosing through a huge pile of miscellaneous items that made up his bed. Weapons, armor, coins, clothing, pots, pans, wagon wheels, anything you could think of. These were all things he had collected over the years, some from the forest, but much of it came from things that washed onto the river bank. He loved to collect things, it was his hobby. He thought about getting rid of some of it from time to time, but could never bring himself to do it.

There it is. He finally found what he was looking for. It was an old row boat that he had added to his collection many years ago. It had no oars, but that didn’t matter, he doubted if the little human could use them anyway. He dumped the contents out of it, and dragged it out of the cave. The bundle was still there, but the child was missing. At first he assumed the soldiers had already arrived, but then he saw that the human was crawling its way up the outcrop, giggling.

He let out a deep growl to let it know that it was doing something dangerous, but this only made it cry. What have I gotten myself into? The dragon approached the outcrop and laid his chin down on one of the rocks to let the child know he meant no harm. The human stopped crying and began to take some uncertain, wobbly steps towards him. Soon it was on his snot laughing and trying to gouge out his eyes.

“Let the child go!” Said a commanding voice, startling the dragon. He turned and the human clung tightly to his face. Standing in the clearing was the knight, shield raised, and sword in hand. He was surrounded by a handful of soldiers all with spears leveled at the dragon. They started to fan out forming a semi circle around the dragon whose back was to the cave. “Kill the dragon, but leave the child for me to finish” barked the knight.

It was now nearly lunchtime and the dragon was hungry and irritable, so he decided to try to finish the fight quickly. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, he could feel the flames forming at the back of his throat, but when he went to blow the fire at the soldiers all that came out was a tiny wisp of smoke. The men who were scared moments before all began to laugh. The closed in closer sensing an easy kill.

Damn, thought the dragon time for plan B. He pushed the old row boat with his front paws as hard as he could, sending it flying into two soldiers. The men fell down and the boat tumbled forward towards the river. He used the opportunity to charge forward towards the gap where the men used to be. He set the child down in the boat before turning back around. He was still outnumbered but at least he was no longer cornered.

Two men with spears rushed forward. He managed to brush one aside with his snout, but the other struck with a spear in his left leg prying off one of his scales. The knight now rushed forward. Slashing at his chest. The dragon countered, snapping at the knight, but all he got for he trouble was a shield blow to the mouth. He felt one of his teeth come loose and tasted blood. He spit it out and turned to fight his enemies who were now prodding him from all sides. The knight lunged forward and stabbed his leg in the spot where the scale used to be. He let out a great howl. He began losing blood. Spears began penetrating his once indestructible hide. He knew that he couldn't last much longer.

When he woke up this morning he never considered that it might be his last. He had always trusted his instincts, but now look at the situation he was in. Funny old life. With the last of his strength he swished his tail into the boat. It lurched forward straight into the rushing river.

“Dammit!” Shouted the knight, “Somebody get me my horse!” It was the last thing the dragon heard.

~~~~~

Pate’s muscles strained as he tugged at the rope. He figured the net must be full of fish to provide this much resistance. When he finally wrestled it to the shore, he found that he had not caught any fish, but a collection of junk. Rocks, muck, weeds, and even an oar belonging to a row boat. He swore in frustration. It was no easy thing for an outlaw to miss a meal, especially with winter on its way.

That wasn't the real reason for his frustration though. He thought back to earlier that morning when he was cooking his breakfast over the fire. Sausage and eggs that he had nicked off an unfortunate farmer on his way to the market. The food was cooking up nice and his mouth was watering in anticipation when suddenly a woman had burst into his campsite. She was sobbing and it was hard to make out exactly what she was carrying on about. He gathered that she was being chased, she was a wet-nurse, and some kid’s life was in danger. He didn’t really care, he just wanted to eat his meal.

“You have to help me,” she cried, grabbing his shoulders. It wasn’t often that people asked for his help. He was a dangerous outlaw with an ugly cleft lip and a hideous scar that went from his ear down to the corner of his mouth. He had been on his own for as long as he could remember and he meant to keep it that way.

“Go away,” he said, pushing her back.

“Please help me” Said wailed “hide me, anything!”

“No,” he said simply, as he turned the sausage over. Moments later a group of soldiers had burst into the clearing. They tackled the woman to the ground, knocking over his breakfast in the process. One thing about Pate was that he knew when to make himself scarce. He took advantage of the commotion and disappeared before anyone had noticed. When he was sure that he was good and safe he had made his way towards the river in hopes of catching some breakfast.

Ever since the incident the thought of the woman pleading for his help had not left his mind. This was not like him at all. He tried to reason with himself that if he had helped her they would both be rotting in some dungeon somewhere. Better her than him, he thought. That didn’t make him feel any better. His thoughts drifted back to his former life when he had a family of his own, before he became an outlaw. He didn’t like to think about that.

He was about to toss the net back out when noticed something floating far away down the river near the opposite bank. It was a boat with nobody in it. As the boat drew closer he noticed a pair of beady eyes peering over the side. It was a small child. He heard the neighing of a horse and saw a knight in full armor chasing alongside the boat on the shore. The man was riding at a gallop, occasionally bending over to snatch at the child in the boat. He missed each time. Up ahead was a small bridge. The knight raced forward onto the bridge. He dismounted waiting to snag the boat as it passed by.

That’s when Pate did the most unPatelike thing he had done in many years. He cut the rope from the net and tied it to one of his arrows. He fired it and it hit the side of the wooden boat with a clunk. He began to pull just as the boat floated under the bridge. The Knight reached down to grab the child, but at the last second the ship reversed course. The knight pitched into the water with a huge splash. This brought a smile to Pate’s deformed face as he hauled the boat to shore.

He scooped up the child and dashed into the forest. He raced along paths known only to him. The knight would soon be back on horseback, and who knows how many soldiers he had roaming the forest. He had no plan except to get as far away as possible. After a few hours he stopped at a stream to catch his breath and get a drink of cool water.

“Ya fool Pate this will be the death of ya” he said to himself, as he thought about the events that had just transpired. He knew he was in deep now though, and there was no turning back. His arms were on fire from carrying the little brat, so he made a makeshift carrier with a bit of rope and strapped the child to his back alongside his quiver. He heard horses in the distance and knew it was time to press on.

The kid was beginning to get fussy. He didn’t remember much about caring for children, but he knew he was hungry, and he figured it probably was too. He decided to make for the nearest town. He was friends with the innkeeper there. An honest man who would feed them and hopefully take the child in as well.

Pate was distracted and not paying attention when he cut across the forest road. One of the soldiers spotted him and let out a great shout. Pate sprinted off into the woods, leading his pursuers on a wild goose chase. He made a good show of it. Shooting a handful of the bastards with his bow. Despite his efforts he soon found that he was hemmed in on all sides. It wouldn’t be long before they found him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The witch heard a banging at her door. Two guests in one day was entirely out of the ordinary. Earlier that day she had answered her door to find a priest in a brown robe bleeding all over her doorstep. She had let him in of course. She was not an evil witch. She was a healer and had vowed long ago to help all those who were injured. She was wary however, for it was his kind(religious leaders) who had forced her from her home and into this small cabin in the woods.

He was wary of her as well, but he was a desperate man. He relayed quite the tale to her as she bandaged his wounds. The queen, it seemed, had ordered the death of the king’s young bastard son. She was pregnant and wanted to make sure none stood in the way of her future child’s claim to the throne. She had sent her sworn knight, Sir Hugh to kill the child. Father Ralph had gotten wind of it ahead of time and had helped the child and his wet nurse escape into the forest. They had been separated and Father Ralph had taken an arrow to the hip. And now he was here asking for her help.

She did not want to say no, she wasn’t an evil witch like many believed her to be, but she didn’t know why she should stick her neck out for this man, who just a day ago she would have considered a sworn enemy. They were debating this when the second knock was heard at her door.

She approached the door cautiously with a vial in her hand, which contained a potion that caused skin to break out into boils. She wasn’t an evil witch, but one could never be too careful. When she opened it she saw the ugliest man she had ever seen. He had a cleft lip thinly disguised by a wispy beard, a hideous red scar, and he was dirty from head to foot. He was also bleeding all over her doorstep. This was becoming an unfortunate trend.

In his arms was a beautiful young child not even two years old, with a mop of golden hair on his head. His eyes were a deep blue, and he had a smile that could melt any witch's heart. Despite how cute he was, she could tell the child was exhausted and starving. Spending time in the forest with an outlaw was no way for a child to live.

It seemed the priest had been telling the truth, she had no choice but to let them both in. She gestured for them to enter, but the man shook his shaggy head. “There ain’t no time” He said “You must take the child, I’ll lead them away.”

“Wait” said the witch. She went back into the house and returned a few moments later with a skin of water, and a cloth with some cheese and bread in it.

“Thank ya kindly” said the outlaw. He smiled at her, and despite his rough appearance she found herself blushing. A witch has needs too you know, especially a lonely one. He dashed away into the forest, gone as quickly as he had come.

The priest was relieved to see that the child was alive and well. The witch went straight to fixing the poor child a meal of warm milk, sweet potato, and some buttered bread. He wolfed it down then curled up near the fire and fell asleep. The witch and the priest then devised a plan to get the child to safety.

Not long after(It was now late afternoon) they set out from the witch’s cabin towards the nearest town. The priest had a friend who would ferry himself and the child over the river into the neighboring kingdom. The witch agreed to see them safely to the river, but then she would return home.

As they traveled through the forest, thoughts of keeping the child for herself drifted through her head. She wasn’t an evil witch, but she could use an assistant, especially one as cute as the boy. The truth was she had already grown fond of the child, plus she hadn’t had excitement like this since she had been run out of town by a mob with torches and pitchforks when she was a young woman.

The outlaw must have been doing a good job of leading the soldiers away, because they did not encounter anyone for much of the journey. When they neared their destination they decided to risk the open road. It was the only path that led through the gate of the walled town. They threw their hoods up and the witch hid the child under her robes. She gave him a delicious red apple to keep him preoccupied.

They made it through the gates without any trouble, but when they passed the inn she saw a man who looked very familiar to her. He had blonde hair that was slicked back, eyes that seemed to see right through you, and he wore a shining silver suit of armor. She stared at him trying to recall where she had seen him before, finally it came to her. He was the knight who had led the mob against her all those years ago. She was not an evil witch but she suddenly had a desire to turn him into a toad.

She stared too long. His eyes met hers and moments later recognition dawned on him. He saw the priest traveling with her, and the bulge under her robe. It didn’t take him long to put the pieces together.

“We are caught” she hissed under her breath to Father Ralph. He looked up and his eyes flashed fear.

“Keep walking,” Said the priest, “I will handle this.” Ralph left her side and made his way over to the knight. She walked on, but after a moment turned to see what was going on. As she turned she saw Sir Hugh run Father Ralph through with his sword. She ran now, attempting to lose herself in the crowd of people. In the distance she saw the shipyard. She was almost there. The child began to cry. Suddenly a commanding voice rang out across the town.

“Witch! Witch! Stop the Witch!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sir Hugh watched the crowd gather as he held the child in his arms. There was an outlaw in the gallows, and a witch at the stake. This was enough to make the career of any knight, but despite his smiling face Sir Hugh was writhing in anger. His task was to kill the child and yet here he stood being praised for saving it. His only choice now was to wait until after the festivities. He would leave at sunset and something unfortunate would befall the child on his way back to the castle.

He did love the praise he was receiving though. The people thought him a hero, the perfect embodiment of chivalry. He already knew all that though, still it didn’t hurt to hear it from adoring fans every now and then. And yet the urge to crush the child’s skull was strong in him. It would be so quick and so easy. He resisted the temptation.

When all the town had gathered and the sun was beginning to set he raised his gloved hand and spoke to the crowd. “Good people” He said and then paused for dramatic effect. “It is not everyday that we are privileged enough to see the king's justice brought not only to an outlaw who has eluded the law time after time, but also to a witch who’s curse has been heavy on our shoulders year after year.” The crowd cheered enthusiastically.

He raised his hand again to silence the idiots. When all was quiet he spoke again “Who would you rather see face the king’s justice first?” He held his hand to his ear as if listening closely. Shouts of “hang the outlaw” could be heard as well as “Burn the witch” It was honestly too close to call. Suddenly he heard a third phrase being shouted “Dragon!” What were they talking about? It was nonsense, he had already killed the bloody dragon. Suddenly the whole crowd was shouting about a dragon and they all began to run in every direction.

The great hulking beast flew into the town square and landed with a thud. It let out a great roar and fire could be seen forming in the back of its throat. Sir Hugh knew everything was falling apart. He handed the child to one of his men, then he charged the beast sword in hand. The dragon let loose a huge burst of fire. Narrowly missing Sir Hugh. Its massive tail swept through the oncoming soldiers, sending them flying in all directions.

Hugh threw off his smoldering cape and leapt at the dragon. The great beast lunged at him time after time. Hugh hacked and slashed as he dodged, ducked, dipped, dived, and dodged again and again. It was a fight for the ages. After what seemed like hours the dragon collapsed. Its great bulking frame pinning Hugh to the ground.

The crowd must have thought Sir Hugh dead, for when he finally crawled his way up and stood upon the dragon’s corpse the crowd let out a huge shout. “Sir Hugh! Sir Hugh! Sir Hugh!” the chant echoed through the town. He was the hero. The dragon slayer.

He looked out over the town. Buildings were crushed, dead soldiers filled the square, and the entire dockyard was up in flames. Sir Hugh forced a thin smile onto his face as the crowd praised him. Inside the rage threatened to boil over, as he watched in the distance a small boat containing the outlaw, the witch, and the child rowing away.