By Yaasha Moriah
“You are, without doubt, the laziest dragon hunter I have ever encountered,” scoffed Dorvan’s unwelcome visitor, a young knight.
“Oh? What gave it away?” Dorvan sat outside his cottage with his feet propped up on a stool. He did not even look up as he turned a page in his book.
“I once thought you were great,” the knight continued, red-faced. “They talk about you in the great city—Dorvan the Daring.”
“Ooh, has a nice ring to it.”
“I don’t believe you ever did it.” The knight folded his arms across his chest and glared down at the older man.
“Did what? Turned down Widow Syrene’s proposal? She was a gold digger.”
“I don’t believe you ever killed all those dragons—or the Dragon King. All that nonsense about slaying him with an enchanted dagger. No one saw you do it.”
“Then where’d the dragon go?”
“Maybe he died of old age.”
“He was in his prime.”
“Or maybe you made a deal with him.”
Dorvan laughed out loud at this. “Made a deal? Humans and dragons have been killing each other for centuries. I haven’t met a human yet that a dragon would trust.”
“I still think you’re lying.”
Dorvan sighed, put down his book, and lifted his right hand, where a long black glove covered from fingers to elbow. He tugged at the glove, sliding his hand from its leather sheath. The young knight staggered back as the old dragon hunter held up a hand covered with gleaming celestial-blue scales, each claw a deadly diamond-point.
“This is what happens when you stab a Dragon King through the heart with an enchanted blade. Killing such a creature marks you for life.”
Dorvan fixed the knight with a hard glare. “I’ve done my share of killing dragons. Which is why I’m not eager to dash off when some young idiot spoils my nice, quiet day by telling me he has a job for me. I’m retired.”
“It’s not just a job. There’s another dragon.”
Dorvan’s feet came down from the stool with a thump and he squinted at the knight. “I’m sure I didn’t hear you right. The dragons are all dead. I killed the last one.” Not true, but the knight didn’t know that.
“It’s a female—water-type,” the knight said, gesturing toward the river that dropped down the mountainside behind Dorvan’s cabin. “She was spotted about a mile below the fords of the Sarras River. But since you’re so busy…”
Dorvan narrowed his eyes as the knight turned away and started down the wooded path. Oh, not so fast. Dorvan flung his glove and the knight started as the heavy leather slapped him in the back. The knight half-turned, eyeing Dorvan warily.
Dorvan uncurled his spine, tipped his head from side to side until his neck cracked, and rolled his shoulders back. The light caught upon his naked dragon-hand and sent azure sparks from its scales.
“Well,” he said, patting a dagger at his belt. “I guess I have a last dragon to find.”
Tracking a dragon took some skill, which was why so few could claim the title of dragon hunter. A dragon in its element was like tracking a bird in the sky. However, it could be done, if one knew how to think like a dragon and how to see with trained eyes. An unnatural ripple on the surface of the river; wet or overturned rocks and sand where a scaly tail had brushed by them at a narrowing of the river.
“Where are you?” Dorvan whispered under his breath. “It’s been years since I lost your trail.”
“Has it indeed?”
Dorvan whirled at the soft voice, and a slender head lifted from the river. The iridescent scales refracted light, blurring the outline of the she-dragon, as if she were water itself.
Dorvan threw up his cursed hand and the dragon began to wag her head from side to side.
“Aiiieee! That is my beloved’s claw.”
Dorvan’s heart caught in his throat. It was her. Terror and hope mingled. She was the one he had never found. Now, at last, he had a chance to redeem himself—to finish the job.
The dragon rose from the water, raising wing-like fins heavenward, appearing three times her size. “What have you done?”
“What I had to do,” Dorvan answered, still holding his claw-hand toward her as though to stop her advance. “The humans would have killed them all.”
The she-dragon lowered her head and dropped it into the shallows at his feet, prostrate before him. “Are they all gone? The little ones? The old ones? I was not there to see.”
“They are… not in this world anymore.”
She heaved a great sigh and closed her eyes wearily. “I had to hide. I was too far away and too weak from brooding.”
She lifted her body. Embedded in her breast like a white jewel was an egg the size of a man’s fist. An unborn dragon stirred within, living in this unarmored place, close to the warmth of her heart. The nature of the brooding left both the mother and her developing child vulnerable for the hundred years until the hatching.
“A daughter, I think,” said the she-dragon, expression soft. Her eyes met Dorvan’s. “But perhaps… fatherless.” She spoke it almost as a question.
“No,” Dorvan said, throat dry. “When I open the portal, I will change form again. But I will always have the hand of a human, even as I have the hand of a dragon now. It is the curse of the Doorkeeper, to always belong to both worlds.”
“I think,” said the dragon, touching her muzzle to his dragon-hand, “it will be enough to have my husband—and king—again.”
“Then let us go.” Dorvan drew the enchanted dagger. The spell would hurt, as it had last time, but he did not care. He had found his family and they would be safe at last.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
bravo!! wonderful.
Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it.
What a lovely tale! The emotional and world elements were both well-balanced!
Thanks! This was one of those stories that took shape as I wrote it, so the emotion part surprised even me!
Such an intriguing, twisty story. Well done!
Nice twist! And a fascinating concept!
Really liked this. Well-plotted, nice twist.
I enjoyed the story, am a big dragon fan. Well written!