THE HUNTER VIII

            When Virgil and Raymond reached the town of Portshead there was only one inhabitant waiting to meet them.

            There was not one building left undamaged, not one ship in the docks unwrecked, not one person left alive.

            Only the dragon remained, sat on the smashed town gate, waiting for them.

            Raymond first instinct was to charge the monster, but Virgil restrained him.

            ‘This is not a little troll that you can kill with one blow,’ the old man told his friend. ‘It is a dragon, the most dangerous beast to ever live. Be wise… Besides, it will want to talk.’

            ‘Talk?’ Raymond grunted in disgust.

            ‘I have long been expecting you,’ the dragon said in a voice far more gentle and elegant than would be expected from it size and fearsome appearance.

            It was indeed fearsome. Its head alone was as big as a bull, covered in horns and ending in a sharp beak. Its eyes were as cats eyes, but as blue as the sea, and as big as plates. Its body was over a hundred paces long, and long spikes petruded all along its spine. Its feet were webbed, but ended it long talons.

            ‘Virgil the Oathbound and Raymond of Westmoorland…’ the dragon continued,’… they say you are the greatest of living men. It is a pleasure to meet you.’

            ‘Come down here and fight!’ Raymond`` roared.

            “Oh yes, we will fight, but not today. First I have a lesson for you.’

            ‘Now!’ Raymond shouted. ‘I don’t sit around talking to monsters.’

            ‘Wait,’ said Virgil, holding his friends shoulder. ‘Remember the sagas… The dragons always talks with the hero, then there will be ritualized combat.’

            ‘Virgil is right,’ said the dragon,’ that is how it is done in this Age. But it was not always that way. I will give you a history lesson. How many Ages have there been in this world?’

            ‘Three,’ replied Raymond. ‘The Age of Elves, the Age of Men and the Age of Monsters.’

            ‘Wrong, that is what men think. There have been four Ages, the first was the Age of Dragons. We dragons were once alone on the earth, then came the animals, then elves, men and monsters, but all those were as children compared to us. In the Age of Dragons, my ancestors slaughtered your ancestors like sheep. Then the Age of Elves came. The Elves learnt the power of magic, and we dragons were slaughtered like beasts. It was only when our numbers became few, and the Elves learnt mercy, that we dragons became cunning and cruel.’

            Raymond listened carefully, he had not expected this.

            ‘The rest you know…’ the dragon continued. ‘The strength of Elves faded, and men learnt the power of fire and the working of metal, the Age of Mankind began. Men and Dragons fought epic duels. Dragons were hunted for sport. Then the Elves left this world, leaving men alone against the monsters. By that time the dragons were thought to be destroyed… Yet I remained. I, the last of my people, who will have revenge for my race!

            I have dedicated myself to the extermination of all mankind! I- the last dragon- will fight Raymond- The Last Hero. I will slay you, then I will slay all of your people… Just as your people slew mine.’

            ‘You must kill me first,’ stated Raymond. ‘That will not be easy. Most likely, I will slay you, and your race will die with you. Lost forever, remembered only in stories for children.’

            ‘We shall see,’ the dragon snapped. ‘Virgil and Raymond, I invite you to my home, and challenge you to a Duel. Come to Bell Isle tomorrow, as the sun begins to set, and be ready for combat.’

            ‘I accept your challenge’, said Raymond. ‘Tomorrow we will meet, and one of us will die.’

            The dragon nodded its head, then was away.

            That night, Virgil and Raymond made camp in the ruins of Portshead. They found a stray chicken and built a good fire to cook it on.

            Both men were quiet that night, lost in their own thoughts.

            Raymond considered the epic task that awaited him. For the first time in his life he considered the possibility that he might loose a fight. He was not afraid of death, but nor did he desire to die. He still had work to do. Also, he gave some thought to all that the dragon had told him- and did not know what to think.

            Virgil did not imagine for a moment that Raymond could fall to the dragon. He considered only the many glorious possibilities after his friend had killed the last dragon. It would guarantee Raymond’s place as the greatest hero in living memory, and that have consequences. It might also set an example to other men, and give humanity greater hope in its battle against monsters.

             Finally, Virgil broke the silence.

            ‘The dragon was wrong,’ Virgil stated. ‘There have been four Ages of this world. First was the Age of the Gods… then the Gods created dragons, to show Their great power. But the Gods went too far, they made stronger and mightier dragons, untill the dragons challenged the Gods Themselves. There was a great war in the sky, eventually the Gods were victorious, but the strength of Dragons was still great… That was why the Gods created mankind- to fight dragons, and all monsters.’

            ‘Long have i suspected that this was the case,’ Raymond relpied.

           

            The next morning they searched the docks for any seaworthy boats, and could find only a tiny rowing boat. On that, they set out for Bell Isle.

            From the outside the Isle was nothing but bare and jagged rocks, but when they sailed around it, they found a barren bay, leading to a narrow river, lined with dense vegetation and mighty trees. The river led to a vast lagoon with clear, still water. The lagoon was surrounded by a golden beach, then gently sloping rocks covered in rare and beautiful flowers of all colours.

            The dragon lay sleeping on the shore of the lagoon, stretched out, half submerged between the blue water and gold sand. It ignored them at first.

            ‘The Dragon is sleeping,’ Raymond said.

            ‘Dragons never sleep,’ Virgil replied.

            They rowed up to the shore, twelve paces from the dragons head. They could see its open eyes gazing at nothing, and its vast body rising and falling with its slow breathing. Behind the dragon was the mouth of a large cave.

            ‘Dragon!’ Raymond roared as soon as his feet hit dry land. ‘It is time.’

            ‘Yes,’ the dragon replied calmly. ‘Welcome to my home. But before we fight, go into the cave and take anything that you desire.’

            ‘I want nothing of yours,’ Raymond said.

            ‘One should know what one is turning down, before turning it down.’

            ‘Sound advice,’ Virgil said.

            They went into the cave and found it piled high with treasure. Heaps of gold. Piles of gems and silver. Marble statues. Suits of ancient armour. Swords, spears and staffs of office.

            Raymond was unimpressed.

            ‘There is nothing here that I need,’ he said, turning back to the dragon.

            ‘Do not be so sure,’ said the dragon.

            ‘Look,’ Virgil pointed to the top of a pile of jewels. ‘It is Freja- Thorfast of Garstang’s sword.

            ‘Correct,’ hissed the dragon. ‘The sword of the last King of men. I took it from his descendents. Now I give it to Raymond.’

            ‘I don’t need a weapon to fight,’ Raymond grunted.

            ‘Take the sword. I wish for a fair fight… Once, long ago, dragons were noble being, and I wish we could be so again…’

            “I will take it, for it is a pretty sword, and you are a noble foe. It will be glorious to slay you.’

            ‘We shall see. One of us shall die, and the hope of our people will die with us… the heroes of men killed my parents when I was young, and I will avenge myself on mankind, or die in the effort.’

‘Enough talking, time to fight,’ Raymond told the dragon.

So they did.

In an instant, the dragon grabbed Raymond with his huge, taloned hand and picked him up off the ground. The air was crushed out of Raymond’s chest by the vast strength of the dragon as he was lifted towards the dragon’s open mouth.

Before the dragon could bite of his head, Raymond lashed out with the sword of kings, cutting the dragon’s face.

The dragon was forced to withdraw Raymond from his face, and became intent of crushing him to death.

Raymond swung the sword down, slashing the dragons paws. It took two blows of the mighty sword to sever one of the dragon’s fingers.

The dragon hissed with pain and rage, and dropped Raymond to the ground.

Raymond had only a moment to catch his breath and get to his feet before the dragon attacked again.

That time he was ready.

The dragons came at him head first, jaws gapping. Raymond leapt aside and stuck the sword into the dragon’s eye. He thrust it deeper, into the dragon’s immense brain- and slew it.

Raymond looked into the dragon’s cold, dead eye.

           

Virgil had known Raymond since he had been a child. The old man had found Raymond, a boy, sat on the dead troll in the ruins of his village, and he had never seen his comrade cry. Not even as a boy beside the corpses of his parents.

            Virgil saw the legend cry that day.

            ‘The dragon was my brother,’ Raymond said. ‘He understood me. A part of me dies with him. A part of the world dies with him.’

            ‘But was it not glorious?’

            There was silence. Then the wind rustled the leaves.

            ‘Aye,’ Raymond laughed. ‘It was mightily glorious!’