Copyright © 2008 Martin Owton
All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.
I don't actually want to roast the little bastard. Not now I've got the cavern looking good. Blowing fire around makes such a mess inside.
"I have a proposition for you, Oh Arauth the Mighty." His voice shakes only a little - a brave man then.
"Really? Tell me of it. I may spare you if it is interesting enough."
"I come to you on behalf of my mistress, the Lady Warunna, Queen of Tierm. She wishes a boon of the Mighty Arauth."
It sounds more interesting than the usual challenge by some lackwit knight or second-rate enchanter.
"And what is this boon?"
"My Lady is sorely pressed by the armies of Lord Marek. Her lands occupied, her castle besieged. She calls upon Mighty Arauth to come to her aid."
Now this is interesting. I haven't had a good roughhouse for far too long. Life has grown dull, and I've let myself become lazy with only the occasional metal-clad moron to incinerate. I fear I would be an easy match for a younger challenger, though there haven't been any for many many years. It shouldn't be too difficult to chase off the army - provided they don't have a decent wizard. I had magefire thrown at me once and I don't wish to repeat the experience. Are there any left who can handle magefire without destroying themselves? Are there any decent wizards left at all? I haven't heard of any for more years than I can remember.
"Indeed? And what does she offer in exchange for this aid?" I stretch, and the treasure heap moves beneath me; ancient coins clatter dully against breastplates of beaten bronze. The smell of fear from Warunna's herald is suddenly stronger.
"The everlasting gratitude of Tierm."
"And? You said this was a proposition."
"A supply of fat sheep for as long as Tierm endures."
A dragon can get tired of mountain goat. It's poor meat; stringy with bits that catch in your teeth.