Heart of the Mountain

She reared back on her hind legs, filling her lungs, her barrel chest inflating.

"Take cover!" the Commander shouted, "it means to burn us!"

The dragon belched a stream of roaring flames, expanding before her in a cone, splashing against the rock floor almost like a liquid. The Paladins took refuge behind their shields, the heat of it making the steel glow red-hot, cooking the very air around them. It was like standing in a pyre, the Commander could feel his armor heating up, sweat pouring from his skin as black smog choked the air.

The beast finally relented, dark fumes pouring from her open jaws, pearly teeth as long as daggers on display. She stared right at the Commander with her blazing eyes, like a pair of hot coals, fierce and intense. It was as the Archivists had warned, there was intelligence behind those reptilian eyes, awareness. They had tried to set a trap for the creature without ever realizing that the trap had already been sprung.

He chanced a glance over his shoulder, seeing that Gregory had taken cover behind a pillar, leafing through his spellbook as he no doubt spoke the incantations beneath his winged helmet. Alden and Rowen were still near the entrance to the cavern, their weapons aimed. He would have to give the crossbowmen a clear shot. If that net caught one of the Paladins instead of the dragon, then the fight would be over.

The beast charged at them, her footsteps shaking the ground, swinging her clawed forelimb at the brother who was standing to the Commander's left. The man was lifted clear off his feet, the blow leaving deep grooves in his shield, sending him clattering to the ground a few feet away.

She opened her slavering jaws, bring them down towards the Commander, who blocked the bite with his tower shield. The dragon's great mouth closed around it, the serrated, backwards-curving teeth hooking around the top and bottom. The metal creaked as the pressure began to bend it, its hot breath washing over him, its winding tongue lashing at the metal. The monster tore it from his arm, shaking it like a dog with a bone, throwing it across the room where it bounced off the far wall as though it weighed no more than a toy.

Thanking the Gods that his adversary had not fractured his arm into a dozen pieces, the Commander struck back, his dragonhorn pike jabbing his assailant in the shoulder. It pierced the layers of blue-green scales just above where the forelimb joined the body, dark blood seeping from the wound, the dragon recoiling with a reptilian hiss of pain.

"How is it?" the Commander yelled over the thunderclap of its massive feet. "I'll wager that nobody has shed your blood in eons!"

The dragon narrowed her fiery eyes at him, her lips pulling back in an eerily human smile, a tongue as long as his arm escaping to wet a pair of scaly lips.

"You aren't the first mortal to make an attempt on my life this week, Paladin." Her voice was a deep, booming contralto, oddly feminine. "Nor will you fare any better than he did. Leave now, or be destroyed."

"It speaks?" one of the Lieutenants whispered, disbelieving.

"Of course I speak, you fool," the dragon spat as she turned her massive head in the Lieutenant's direction. "Ignorant, scurrying things, will you never leave me in peace?"

"The Paladin Order has condemned you to die, foul beast," the Commander shot back. "Your very existence is an affront to the Gods. No more will you terrorize the people of this valley!"

"Your Gods are an affront," she snarled, rearing up on her hind legs. She inhaled a great gulp of air, preparing to vomit flame once more. Just then, Gregory leapt out from behind the refuge of his pillar, shouting the final words of his incantation as he pointed his gauntleted hand at the dragon. There was a flash of blue light that made the Commander avert his eyes for a moment, and when he dared to look again, the dragon was falling back to her four-legged posture. Her eyes were wide, confused. Her mouth was agape, her chest heaving like a cat that was trying to cough up a fur ball. She raised a forelimb to claw at her neck, the smoke that poured from her nostrils taking on a different quality, more like steam than coal fire. The burning torches that ringed the cave petered out abruptly, plunging them into darkness, save for the single torch that the Paladins had brought with them. They must have been magical in origin.

Rather than flames, from the dragon's mouth came a jet of water, a slurry of what looked like partially melted ice. The great creature gagged and coughed, turning her furious eyes back towards the Commander.

"What...did you do?" she sputtered. "Frost magic? How..?"

"Now!" the Knight Commander shouted, turning towards the Paladin to his left and leaping at him. He knocked his companion to the ground, the dragon watching them with confusion, before noticing the two crossbowmen that were aiming their weapons at her from across the cavern. They fired in unison, the gossamer net dragged through the air by the two bolts, falling over the beast like a curtain.

It clung to her wings with its sticky coating, entangling them, large enough to cover her head and most of her tail in a shimmering layer. She began to struggle, hissing like an angry snake and spewing boiling steam as she rampaged across the cavern, her powerful tail knocking over one of the stone columns and sending it toppling to the ground with a tremendous crash.

The spider silk was already constricting, growing tighter the more she tried to fight it. It trapped her wings against her back, forcing her to bend her neck towards her belly, her four flailing limbs becoming tangled. She crashed to the ground, her own momentum carrying her headlong into her pile of treasure, sending a tidal wave of coins scattering across the room. Curled up into a seizing ball, she lay still, her long body partially resting atop her hoard. She glared at them with her glowing eyes, her head upside-down relative to the ground, growling like a giant wolf as a slurry of melting ice poured from her jaws.

The Commander began to walk towards her, his companions helping the fallen Paladin to his feet. He took off his helmet, holding it under his arm as he approached, the dragon's fiery eyes meeting his. The net had worked perfectly, she was completely immobilized, hopelessly tangled in strands that were tougher than any alloy that humankind could produce. She struggled again as he neared her, sending more coins tumbling from the pile, only the last foot of her tail free of her bonds.

"Spiderfolk silk," she hissed, "I would not have believed that any still existed..."

The creature was curled up, almost in a fetal position due to the tight net, its forelimbs covering its smooth underbelly.

"Expose your heart to me, dragon," the Commander barked as he aimed his pike like a javelin. "Don't make me stick you like a boar, we need not drag this out any longer than we have to."

"And what do you hope to achieve by this?" she hissed, the boiling water that spewed from her mouth pooling on the rock below. "Will you use my horns to forge more weapons, my scales to make wards, my blood for pyromancy? Or is it simply greed that motivates you?"

"The dragons are written of in the holy scriptures," he replied. "They were tyrants and despots, wielding their power to topple kingdoms, and to enslave men. You're a creature of greed, covetous and deceptive. The Gods will not suffer your kind to live."

"Half-truths and hearsay," the dragon rumbled, her voice dripping with venom. "Very well then, spear me with that severed horn. Kill another piece of your history, fumble blindly in the dark as you descend further and further into ignorance."

The Commander was startled as a few of the torches that lined the walls flared to life again, their flames sputtering and weak.

"Do not delay, my Lord!" Gregory called to him from across the cave. "The spell cannot stifle the beast's magic for more than a few minutes longer!"

"I'd say a prayer for your soul, dragon," the Commander said solemnly as he gripped the haft of his pike. "If I thought that you had one..."

"Stop!"

The Commander and his Paladins spun around, what little light that was cast by the torches illuminating an armored figure who was standing at the entrance to the cavern. His garniture was made from dull steel, pocked with marks and scratches, the components fitting him poorly. It was munition armor, dirty and worn through years of use. It must be the hedge knight that they had encountered in the foothills, but what was he doing here?

CHAPTER 10: HEART OF GOLD

"Stop!" Iden shouted, the Paladins turning to look back at him. He had arrived just in time, one of the knights was pointing some kind of ornate spear at Isabelle, her massive body entangled in a shimmering net that looked as if it was woven from fine silk. They hadn't been exaggerating their capabilities, they had defeated the dragon handily. Her burning eyes met his, but it was hard to gauge what she was feeling.

There were two knights with crossbows standing near the entrance to the cavern, and they dropped their weapons, their gauntleted hands moving to the swords on their hips. Another Paladin was standing to one side with a book, and there were two more wielding tower shields and spears. The last one had removed his helmet, the same one who was pointing the strange looking pike at Isabelle's underbelly. He must be their leader.

"State your business," the one without the helmet demanded, his companions bristling. He had brown hair that was cropped short for convenience, a strong jaw, and a pair of piercing, blue eyes. His skin was tanned and leathery, and he had a prominent scar on his cheek. His shining armor fit him like a glove, and he carried himself with more confidence than his companions. Iden's instincts warned him that the knight was a seasoned warrior, not merely the son of some rich Lord who had been promoted beyond his station.

"I have business with that dragon," Iden replied, one hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword as he gestured towards Isabelle with the other. "I'll thank you to leave it be."

The Paladins looked to their leader, confused, the man turning around to face the intruder. The twisted point of his pike left Isabelle's underbelly, and he planted the haft against the ground, looking Iden up and down disdainfully.

"If you seek to claim the bounty, Hedge Knight, then you've arrived too late. This creature's carcass is the property of the Paladin Order, and its hoard is bound for our treasury."

"Yeah..." Iden muttered, sucking in a breath through his teeth as though he was about to deliver some bad news. He too had elected to go without a helmet. With so many adversaries, he needed all of the situational awareness that he could get. "That's going to be a problem. This dragon is not what it appears to be, it's a person, as intelligent as you or I. Moreso than I, in fact. It...she, isn't some kind of rampaging, wild animal. That was my assumption, too. She showed me mercy and compassion, those are not the traits of an evil creature. Whatever reasons that you might have for killing her, they're not justified."

"Dragons deceive," the Paladin replied sternly. "They change their shape to go unnoticed, to spy and to evade the righteous. They might take the form of a lost child to gain your sympathy, only to turn on you in your moment of vulnerability. They lie and manipulate, spreading corruption wherever they go, bending mortal men to their will. If this wretched creature showed you mercy, then it was merely a means to an end, they have no compassion for those who they see as being beneath them."

"And how do you know that?" Iden shot back, "have you ever had a conversation with a dragon?"

"Because it is written in the archives, and in the scriptures," he explained. "The Order's historical records go back hundreds of years, our information comes from the firsthand accounts of those who suffered under the heel of these beasts centuries ago. You are playing a dangerous game, sellsword. It is not wise to come between a Paladin and his holy purpose. Leave now, and you shall be spared."

"If I were you, I'd just be on my way and write this one off as a loss," Iden said as he gripped the hilt of his sword more tightly. "I don't want this to come to blows."

"Kill this vulture," the Paladin muttered, waving his hand dismissively. "I have no patience for this, we have important work to do."

The two knights who were posted by the entrance to the cave unsheathed their swords, Iden responding in kind, gripping the hilt with both hands as they squared off. He'd sell his own mother for a buckler right about now, but the only shield that he had brought on his expedition was the tower shield, and it wouldn't serve any purpose in a fight like this. He had hoped that he might be able to avoid a confrontation if he could convince the Paladins of Isabelle's innocence, but they might as well be deaf. Trying to dissuade a Paladin from their appointed task was like talking to a wall, though a wall was more liable to change its mind...

He took up a defensive posture, his eyes darting between the two helmeted figures as they began to close in on him, their heavy armor clanking with each step. They were aggressive, overconfident, no doubt certain they would prevail against this lowly mercenary in his dented garniture. His armor was inferior to theirs, both in terms of quality and coverage. They were clad in burnished steel from head to toe, but while it gave them formidable resilience, it also made them heavy and limited their range of motion.

Contrary to what some might believe, duels between swordsmen were not lengthy affairs. It often took a mere handful of moves to bring down an opponent, accomplished in a few blinks of an eye. What Iden lacked in armor, he would make up for with his decades of experience, experience that he could already tell that his enemies lacked.

Iden gripped the blade of his sword with one gauntleted hand, shortening the effective length of his weapon, a technique known as half-swording. It would give him more leverage, and it would allow him to deliver stronger and more accurate thrusts to the less heavily armored areas of his foes. Cutting and cleaving were virtually useless when facing off against an assailant who was wearing full plate armor.

The knight to his left raised his sword above his head as high as his heavy pauldron would allow, swinging it down towards Iden's shoulder. Iden weathered the blow, his chainmail glove preventing the strike from driving the edge of his own blade into his palm, throwing the Paladin off-balance as he deflected it. Before the knight had a chance to steady himself, Iden maneuvered the point of his sword, his two-handed grip giving him exceptional control. He threw all of his strength into a thrust, the sharp edge slipping into the joint in the Paladin's armor between the helmet and the breastplate, the mail beneath providing little protection against the tapered blade.

The Paladin loosed a pained gurgle, dropping his weapon and falling to his knees, spurts of crimson blood staining his white breastplate as he made a futile attempt to stem the bleeding. The other Paladins watched in stunned silence, the expression on their leader's face changing from one of disdain, to one of concern.

The second knight loosed a war cry and charged at Iden, set on avenging his fallen brother, but he was easily side-stepped. His momentum carried him a few steps further than he had likely intended, and when he wheeled around to face his opponent, Iden was already upon him. He swung his sword like an axe, gripping the blade with both hands, striking the Paladin's helmet with the pommel. The blow rang it like a bell, knocking the knight off-kilter, and the first strike was followed by a second that was just as vicious.

The knight swung his sword at Iden's belly, but it was easily parried, leaving him wide-open. Iden stepped in, punching the Paladin with his armored fist, his neck snapping back. A helmet was of little use if the head inside of it was being rattled around like a pair of dice in a cup.

Dazed, the knight began to lose his balance, Iden helping him along with a savage kick to the chest that knocked him onto his back. Before he could struggle to his feet, Iden aimed the point of his sword at the slot in his visor, gripping the crossguard for leverage with one hand as he pushed the blade through it. The knight ceased his struggling abruptly, Iden planting a boot on his chest as he strained to withdraw his sword.

"Murderer!" the leader of the Paladins bellowed, waving back the three who remained as he stepped forward. He brandished the long pike with the gnarled point, gesturing with it, Iden meeting his furious gaze. "You dare to defy the will of the Gods? You dare to rob these righteous men of their victory? They overcame a dragon today in service of their order, only to be slain by a brigand!"

"I told you to fuck off!" Iden shouted back, his voice echoing through the cave. "I'll kill the lot of you if I have to."

He was startled as a few of the torches that ringed the cavern came to life, casting more flickering light on the scene.

"My Lord!" the Paladin who had the leather-bound tome clasped in his hands called out. "The spell is wearing off, we have precious little time before the dragon regains its magic!"

So that was it, the Paladins had somehow interfered with Isabelle's magic. That was why she hadn't simply barbecued the intruders like a choice cut of meat, and why so many of the torches were now dim.

"I'll deal with this scoundrel myself," the Lord said, handing off his odd pike to one of his companions and drawing his sword from its scabbard.

"Just leave," Iden growled, "I'll even let you recover your dead. I've killed many a Lord in my time, this won't end well for you."

It was somewhat of a bluff. The younger Paladins had been inexperienced and overconfident, but this one was different. Iden could see it in the way that he carried himself, the way that he handled his sword, the way that he moved in his suit of armor. It was one thing to face off against an idiot in a fancy raiment that had never suffered so much as a scuff, but quite another to fight an experienced warrior who knew how to move and fight. If they were closely matched when it came to their sword fighting skills, then it might well be the quality of their armor that decided the outcome, and the Paladin had Iden hopelessly outmatched in that regard.

"Those were good men," the knight snarled, the two beginning to circle one another. "Their souls will meet on the shores of Paradise, but yours...yours will be damned, and I will be the one who damns it."

"It's no fault of mine that you won't listen to reason," Iden snapped. "You call me a murderer, but you're trying to kill an innocent person who has done you no wrong."

"That dragon may have lived a hundred human lifetimes," the Paladin replied. "You have no idea what deeds it has done, nor what evil it might do in the future."

"So you're willing to murder people based on what they might do?" Iden asked.

"Even if a fox had not eaten any chickens that I knew of, I would not lead it to a hen house."

The knight surprised him, lunging with the tip of his short sword, aiming for his throat. Iden reacted just in time, parrying the blow, the Paladin scarcely flinching. It had been a probing strike, his enemy was testing his defenses, his reflexes.

"I underestimated you once, sellsword, and it cost me the lives of two of my men. I will not make that same mistake again."

He took advantage of Iden's uncertainty, charging at him, throwing his weight into a powerful elbow strike. Iden blocked it, but the Paladin followed it up with a swift pommel strike to his unarmored face, collapsing his nose. The two men grappled for a moment, their armor clashing, too close together to make effective use of their swords.