The Dragon

By Brian Wakeling

War! Invasion! Massacre! Betrayal! Mercenaries!

The Burning Rose have quite spectacularly failed in their mission to avert a war with an enemy that has a dragon. As a punishment, they are not allowed to take part in the desperate defence of the North against the massive army of fanatics fielded by the Sword Bearers. Instead, they have to journey into a legendary wasteland and find a talisman that can help them defeat the dragon. Without the dragon, it might just be possible to defeat the Nataran army that outnumbers the armies of the North by at least two-to-one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9780244004590

Book preview

The Dragon

The Dragon

Book IX of the

Have Sword & Sorcery: Will Travel™

series

A NaNoWriMo Novel

by Brian Wakeling

About the Author

Brian Wakeling was born in the Midlands, bred in the Home Counties, raised in Yorkshire, and went to university in Edinburgh, where he studied fencing and drinking at QMUC – from where he was finally kicked out for the second time in May 2000. He returned to Yorkshire nine months later where he tried to get a life but couldn't afford one. In summer 2005, following his ambition to get a job in a theatre, he moved down to London – and almost completely failed in this ambition. He has been writing in one form or another for most of his life. He was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome in March 2009.

Other Books

Have Sword & Sorcery: Will Travel™

Please Kill the Neighbours

Finish the Job So We Don’t Have To

All’s Fair in Love and Politics

Things Never Go Smooth

Cult Following

Customs & Duty

The Dragon, Shrouded

The Dragon, Rising

The Dragon

Copyright

Copyright © Brian Wakeling 2016

I, Brian Wakeling, hereby assert and give notice of my right under sections 77 and 78 of the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work. Any unauthorised copying, lending, distributing or hiring is prohibited, whether by electronic or by any other means.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The GURPS rules and system used as part of the creation of this work are © Steve Jackson Games. GURPS is a Registered Trademark of Steve Jackson Games.

Cover image:

Composite of photograph © Brian Wakeling 2016

and drawing © John Bowley 2017

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

First Edition 2017

ISBN 978-0-244-00459-0

This forms part of The Published Works as defined in the SOAUL

(http://www.sabremeister.me.uk/soaul.html)

Have Sword & Sorcery: Will Travel is a Trademark of Brian Wakeling

http://www.sabremeister.me.uk/Hsaswt.html

Map

Dedication

For Essy and for Torak

The Dragon

The military camp was a hive of activity. It wasn’t a particularly big military camp, but it was a particularly important military camp. After all, it wasn’t every military camp that had a forty-foot dragon. With the dragon came Handlers, to ride it, steer it, and control it. They controlled it at the command of the Bearers, who were men of at least middle years, and devout to an unusual extent in their faith. They were so devout, they had spent most of their life in pursuit of awakening a legend – and just a few short years ago, they had succeeded.

In charge of them all was the Caliph, the combined civil, military and religious leader, outranking all, even the titular ruler of the country they were now making war on behalf of, without His explicit knowledge or permission. That too had been many years in the preparation, with subtle suggestions and the positioning of sympathetic advisors to whisper in His Most Excellent and Learned Majesty’s ear.

The Caliph was new at the job. Four days before, on the last day of the old year, during the final ritual preparations for the release of the dragon, the former Caliph had been assassinated by foreign mercenaries. That had been the extent of their success though, as the Sword was Drawn on schedule, and the invasion of the infidel heretical and heathen lands of the North had begun with the first light of the new year.

And now a mage came running up to the Caliph. It was barely an hour past midnight, but the work of getting the dragon – the Sword, or more properly, The Sword of M’hush – from where it had been sleeping to the front lines of the invasion where it could eliminate all opposition to the holy war they were bringing, along with all the necessary personnel to feed and escort it and the leaders of the movement, was considerable. The Sword could fly to the border in a matter of hours if necessary (which it wouldn’t be, due to the overwhelming numbers used in the initial advance and the paucity of opposition at the best of times), but no more than a dozen men could travel with it. And so the Sword travelled at the same pace as the horses and camels of the Bearers, northwards across the desert.

The new Caliph turned away from observing the work of settling the Sword for the night as the mage came to a halt and prostrated himself four feet away. My Lord! I have urgent news from Bihr!

Bihr was a small city in the middle of both the massive country of Ras Natara, and of the Kcodi desert that made up much of it. It was on the one river that ran from the Mountains of God on the western coast, through the desert to the eastern coast, and it was a key transport and communications hub for the desert country. What? the Calpih asked, with obvious fatigue in his voice.

The infidel soldiers who escaped – they arrived in Bihr less than an hour ago. They were disguised as Faithful-

Still?

Still, my Lord, yes! They were disguised as Faithful, so they were not stopped when they entered the city from the river, made their way to the temple, and forced open the Teleport Gate.

Do the priests know where the infidels went? the Caliph snapped, all trace of fatigue gone.

Near the Hadinese border, Caliph, the mage replied, nothing more could be divined. Their destination was close to where troops had been sent and until a few days ago were awaiting the signal to advance.

I see, the Caliph muttered. He thought for a moment, then called out to his servant. Get me a map! One was unrolled on his camp table within seconds, so that by the time the Caliph had walked over to it, it was ready to examine. He noted the position their march had reached, and where it was in relation to Bihr, the river, and the still far-distant border. He made a few rough calculations in his head. He turned to his servant again. Summon everyone.

Everyone, my Caliph?

Everyone!

The servant fled to round up all the leaders of the troops, the master wrangler, the Archmage, the Bearers, and whichever Handlers could be spared. The Caliph paced, frustration and anger radiating from him.

He had not yet dismissed the mage who had brought the message, so it was from his prone position that he spoke. My lord Caliph – what are you planning?

We are three days from Bihr. If we could use boats we would be there in one, but the Sword will not countenance such a means of transport. Therefore, the Sword will remain here for two days, then it will fly north to the fork-in-the-tail on the Demonan border. We will meet it there after using the Teleport Gate in the temple at Bihr. If the enemy think to get ahead of us and warn the Northlands, they are wrong. We will accelerate our timetable, and we will arrive in the heathen lands at the same time as the infidel assassins. Their warnings will come too late.

But, the danger, my Caliph? Will it be safe for you and the Bearers to travel so close to the fighting so soon?

The Sword will protect us. The Caliph realised he was talking to a rather junior mage. Begone! Prepare yourself for the journey!

Yes, my Caliph!

2

Ten minutes earlier, two hundred miles north...

Burnt Thorn Three to Kingpin – Firefly active. Mission failed. The diminutive black-clothed mage stood at the top of a low sandy hill, looking north, holding a hand to her temple and reciting a message, her eyes screwed shut in concentration.

The other figures she was with were taller, though not all were noticeably more heavily built. They were all armed and armoured, and watching the land to the east, where several miles away a dozen regiments of Nataran infantry marched northwards. Half a dozen miles beyond them, the first of multiple columns of dust rose in the distance, eerily highlighted by the light of the nearly-spent moon, indicating that the column they could see was not the only one.

Well, shit, one of the larger figures said.

The largest figure snapped his head toward the speaker. Boruta - fall everyone in! Muster call and inspection in ten minutes!

What? Sir, there’s an enemy army not five miles away!

Go!

Yes, sir. The big man turned and stomped down the hill to the wide beach that fronted the massive lake that formed a large part of the border between Ras Natara and Hadin.

"Is that an army, Kenyon?" asked one of the smaller figures.

I’d say so, the biggest figure replied. There looks like five thousand men in the near column, and even if it were the only one, that’s big enough to take pretty much anything that can be mustered and marched in a week.

They surely can’t have that many men, another slight figure said, shaking her head.

"We know they have a hundred thousand men, at least a hundred thousand." The first slight figure stepped closer to the second and put his arm around her waist – carefully, lest he dislodge one of her many weapons.

This can’t be the spearhead, the big man opined, it must be second-tier troops advancing to secure the ground captured in the initial advance.

What ground? asked the first figure. Hadin is west, it’s still Ras Natara to the north for another hundred miles at least. They’re not crossing the border, they’re marching along it.

It’s a show of force, the second figure said. Hadin’s like Ras Natara, it’s a mostly M’hushtlamite country. The Sword Bearers won’t want to attack them unless they really have to, so they’re sending a warning: Look how many men we have in our army, it would be a pity if they had to march through your country.

And meanwhile the real work is being done a hundred miles northeast in the Fishtail Hills and on the Doronathan plains.

Two hundred miles, said a third figure. He was more heavily built than the mage or the two arm-in-arm, but not as heavily built as Kenyon or Boruta. He stood straighter, though, and his voice was educated and rich. This is indeed a show of force. Those columns are probably the most recent tribal levies, marching north to where to real fight is, and being trained as they go. The good troops; the cavalry, the professional soldiers, the fanatics of the Sword Bearer Faithful, and even, I am still ashamed to say, the Crescent Legion – they would all have crossed the borders into Demona and Doronatha the moment the Sword was Drawn. They will be well inside those countries by now. The cities of Beyol and Doronatha may even now be under siege.

You really are a ray of sunshine, Saldan, the first slight figure told him.

Thank you, Cullan, I do my best.

This is stuff we need to know, the second slight figure said. Of course, it would help if we had some way of getting what we know to people who can do something about it.

Any ideas? Cullan asked.

Get across that lake? suggested the third slight figure, a man with a bow slung across his back.

Aye, there may be another Teleport Gate we can commandeer in Sinut, the female figure next to him remarked.

We’d probably have to fight through a ton of guys to use it, though, the last large figure added.

It was a moment before anyone spoke again. A trip to Sinut sounds good, actually, the woman next to Cullan said. We just need to find a boat and someone to drive it.

The mage stopped repeating her message and lowered her hands. I think it’s been received, she reported.

Well done, Morgan.

Thank you, Alys.

The last slight figure approached Morgan and handed her a short staff with a gem attached to the end. Here. You must be nearly asleep on your feet after all you’ve been doing recently.

Thanks, Dalian, I am, she replied. But I had a lot of time to rest on the boat to Bihr, and my Powerstones were all well charged by the time we needed to use them.

Still, you are our most valuable member. He pulled up short and looked around nervously. No offence to the rest of you.

None taken, clerk, Cullan told him. As a thief, I don’t get a chance to show off compared to the armoured killing machines I work with – especially the one I married.

Married? asked Alys, pulling away from his arm around her waist. When was this? I don’t remember the ceremony, what church was it in? Did I have a pretty dress?

Figure of speech, dear, he said, pulling her back towards him to kiss her on the forehead.

Figures of speech are all we’ll have if we don’t get moving, Kenyon said. Saggitta, Hode, Roland – inspection. He led the other three off.

There was a long silence as the legions tramped by. Can we stop them? Morgan eventually asked.

If Dashell has got the North to play nice with one another, they should have an army big enough, Cullan finally replied.

But they won’t be able to force a proper battle without the dragon frying them all, Alys added. All they’ll be able to do is chip away, little by little, probably not doing any more damage than can be replaced by a decent recruiting programme.

Dashell will find a way, Cullan said. The others had noticed his subdued tone and looked at him, but none called him on it. And if he doesn’t, Mordlin will know of something we can do.

Not us personally, I hope, Alys said. We’re just about done. I don’t think we can stand any more – not after what we just failed to accomplish.

I would say killing a dragon is something that is very easy to fail to accomplish, Saldan reminded them. "I doubt anyone could legitimately blame you – us – for our failure."

They will though.

Then they are fools.

Well, yeah, Cullan snorted. Most of the people saying it will be courtiers and nobles!

3

The muster call and inspection was really the first chance any of them had had to assess how the men and women of the Burning Rose Armed Company were doing after their escape from the Sword Bearer citadel. They totalled twenty-five – eighteen men, seven women; five archers, four javeliniers, two swordspeople, five axemen, one maceman, one morningstar-wielder, one scout, one clerk, one mage, one thief, one berserker, one all-rounder, and one Saracen; twelve privates, three lance-corporals, three corporals, two sergeants, three lieutenants, one captain, and one extra. Three months ago, they had been given the mission to locate the dragon known as the Sword of M’hush and kill it. Unfortunately, the Sword Bearer citadel was an underground labyrinth deep in the desert, and getting there had strained the Company to its’ limits. Simply getting in had nearly broken them, and once inside they had not been able to do more than superficial damage to Sword. One man had been killed, and most of the others were injured, and everyone was mentally worn out. The only positive thing about their mission was that they had killed the leader of the Sword Bearers, so at least they could claim inflicting disorganisation on the enemy. Alys, as Captain, had taken the difficulty of the mission particularly to heart, and didn’t prevaricate when addressing her troops.

"All right, we’re in Hadin now. We’re out of a fucking crazy country where they can kill you for being foreign without permission. Hadin’s much nicer about that sort of thing, or so I’m told. The good news is, almost all of us are still alive. The bad news is that we failed our primary and secondary missions, the enemy are invading our home countries, they outnumber any alliance King Dashell could pull together, and they have a giant flying fire-breathing lizard that can probably eat any big army for breakfast.

"Now we have a choice: We can either find a boat and head across the lake to Sinut and try and get passage back to Turnobae to report in to Dashell and face the music. Or, we can abdicate our duty, desert a royal contract, and strike out on our own, trying to find somewhere that isn’t about to be conquered by a bunch of religious fanatics. That’s probably going to mean the Eastern continent, as I don’t imagine the couple of hundred miles from Willemem or Etsyn to Sullicania will be much of a problem to a dragon. We can’t go north, we’ll be press-ganged into the Alliance; we can’t go south, because we’ve no way of getting through Ras Natara, and none of us know anything about the countries south of the desert anyway. Going east, we’ll be stuck on a ship for over a month, probably, and we barely have any knowledge of the Eastern continent and how to get work there, but at least we won’t be worshipping M’hush at the point of a sword.

Now, I know what I’m going to do. My family’s on this continent, so I’m heading north at the head of an Armed Company. Given how we’ve been performing recently, no questions will be asked if any of you decide not to join me. We can say you died fighting the dragon, or something. Anyone who wants to piss off, you’ve got thirty seconds to pick up your gear and bugger off. Everyone who’s still here when I turn around again is coming to Sinut and then to Turnobae, with me and the rest of the Company. She turned her back.

Behind her, there was a mumbling and a shuffling of feet. She counted slowly to thirty, and turned around again. No one had broken ranks. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Thank you, she said quietly.

Kenyon took over. Company – attention! You’ve got two hours to take care of any problems with your kit and gear and get some shut-eye. We’re marching north along the lake coast to find a boat in two hours from now. Dismissed!

The rank and file fell out, and found things to do and places to sleep. Two hours later, they moved off. It was still six hours or so to sunrise, but they had found that marching in the cold of a desert night was much preferable to marching through the heat of a desert day. They marched along the beach of the vast lake heading northeast, the dunes of the desert rising to their right, the water glinting dully to their left, guided by the thin moonlight and a ball of magical luminescence provided by Morgan, the mage.

It took them three hours to find what they were looking for: A village on the lake shore. Alys sent Dalian, the company clerk, quartermaster and translator ahead with Saldan, the former Saracen of the Crescent Legion who had been accompanying them since he appeared out of the mountains in southern Turnobae six months ago, bringing his warning of the coming war. They knocked on the first door they came to, and kept knocking until someone answered. There were some negotiation, then the man went back inside, and the two of them returned to the Company.

Well?

He has a fishing boat, a large one, he says, Dalian reported, but it’s not large enough for all of us. He says he’s going to wake his cousin so we can use his boat as well.

Good. We’d better head on over, make sure he doesn’t ‘forget’ to wake his cousin.

It doesn’t look like it, Saldan said. Look, there he goes now, dressed and booted. In the village, they could just make out the pale shape of someone hurrying through the streets to a nearby house.

Let’s move up anyway, Cullan suggested. People tend to have a habit of not wanting to piss off armed men, but they also have a habit of wanting to swindle small parties of strangers.

4

As it turned out, the villagers didn’t appear to have an intention of either swindling them or pissing them off. They were probably used to soldiers and bandits and the like dropping by at odd hours and demanding the use of their boats. A group who merely requested it, and promised eventual payment, would have been something of a novelty.

The Burning Rose Armed Company boarded the two boats an hour later and they set off across the lake. Alys made sure that at least two people on each boat would be awake at all times (just in case), then made herself comfortable and went to sleep for the twelve hour journey.

She was woken at dawn by Saggitta, the Company’s sergeant. Sorry, Captain, I know you must be tired, but this is kind of important.

Alys hauled herself upright and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She held up a hand to forestall any further talk from Saggitta until she was ready, while her other hand hunted for her water flask. She had made sure everybody got a complete refill of all their water carriers just before they disembarked at Bihr, so the water was still very drinkable. She poured a large mouthful down her throat, then poured a little more over her hand and used it to finish freshening up. She returned her flask to where she’d left it with the rest of her small gear, and turned to look at Saggitta. "It had better be important."

It really is, Captain, Saggitta assured her.

Alright. What is it?

Saggitta took a deep breath, as if unsure of exactly how to proceed. This was rather unusual for the forthright sergeant, so Alys looked her over quickly as if looking for a hint of something wrong. We don’t know exactly when it happened, Saggitta began, but it was almost certainly when we were at Hdayr. It’s less probable that it happened at the Consul’s, but it’s possible.

What happened?

Captain ... Alys. Me and two of the others – we’ve missed our monthlies. We’re pregnant.

Alys stared blankly for a moment. Are you sure? I mean, it’s not just the journey through the desert playing hob with your bodies?

Hode and me – we were kind of at it like rabbits in Hdayr, she admitted, but corporal Leisl and private Donatra didn’t miss their monthlies. Just me and Katharine and Maebh.

Oh. Well, that does complicate matters, doesn’t it? Do they know who the fathers are?

"Maebh says she only