DESPITE its small population, Longhurst enjoyed more prosperity than other territories of comparable size, and the road leading into the forest is well maintained. With access to a mine and rich farmland, not many locals choose to venture within to hunt, so perhaps the road is used for another purpose.
The wagons roll smoothly despite the power generated by teams of four horses. I’ve assigned guards to drive the other two carts while Rodney steers the one I ride. I sit with my back to him and a foot propped on the pile of human offerings. They stir occasionally and emit muffled noises, but the bottom layer has gone mostly silent. I suppose that’s what happens when one heaps humans on top of each other.
“We’re arriving sooner than expected,” observes Rodney.
Our destination is just past the tree line. Abigail indicated the location as a potential spot where the dragon will emerge. The forest crowns a hill that slopes gently toward the city of Longhurst, and I can glimpse the converted manor below with all its lights ablaze.
The Monster King must have seen the same when it watched the village festival. There were probably less lights then, but the fire burning at the village center would have been big and bright, the flames scattering sparks in every direction. Abigail has said that the Monster King had many arms, legs, eyes, and mouths, yet the image that appears in my mind when I think of it is Abigail with her shining golden eyes, bouncing as she frets about extinguishing the fire before it grows too big.
“Master?”
“Hmm?”
“What was with that long piece of salmon jerky dangling from the lady’s waist?”
“Urgh, don’t remind me of that.”
It was nigh impossible to contain my laughter when I spied Abigail peering at us from behind the tree! I fought so hard! I elbow Rodney’s back as he bursts out laughing.
“…Wh-Where am I?”
The baron, whom I’ve been using as a foot stool, is slowly regaining consciousness. Though we didn’t have much time, the brief interrogation of the servants locked in the mansion’s basement yielded various confessions: all of them were stealing the former earl’s effects. His assistants were no different, and a search of their rooms revealed jewels and artwork taken from the manor. Since those items technically belong to the crown, they can be charged with the theft of state property.
“Nice timing. There’s one last thing I want to ask.” I remove my foot, and the baron raises his head and slowly looks around, processing his position. “Tell me everything you know about the people after Abigail.”
“Wh-What do you mean?”
“This isn’t the time to stall. It doesn’t matter if you refuse to talk either, because we’re strong enough to repel them. It’s just that what you say may change your fate.”
“F-Fate?”
“It seems as though your actions have angered the dragon of the forest. You’re probably aware of the practice of human sacrifice to appease the monster’s anger, right?”
“N-No, you can’t!” The baron swallows as he catches sight of the forest behind me. He must have guessed my intent.
We’ve surmounted the overlook with the nice view of the manor and have progressed onto a stretch of road bordered on both sides by dense, dark trees. The road has also narrowed to the width of a carriage, though it’s supposed to widen again later.
The wind whistles noisily through the trees as the baron starts to shout, his incoherent rambling interspersed with pitiful screams.
“We’re nearly there, Master.”
“I-I’ve already! Told you! E-Everything!”
We’re almost at the end point of the route Abigail predicted the dragon will take. The baron heaves ragged breaths, begging for mercy, but still hasn’t given us any useful information. Well, it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.
“Did you think we’d have a court determine your fate? No, you’ll face the judgement of the forest you’ve exploited.”
At my signal, the guards rein in the horses. Then, together with Rodney, they start to untether the horses from the wagons. The baron is yelling again, and the others who are still conscious join him. They’re still bound by rope and were secured with netting to prevent them from tumbling off the carts, and that’s how I plan to leave them. We empty the tattered sack of stolen jewels, scattering them around the wagons. Hopefully that will satisfy the dragon and we won’t have to engage it in battle.
“Will it really work?” asks Rodney.
“The dragon is said to like shiny things, and as long as these can distract it for a bit, I’ll count that as a win, so—” The hairs along my spine stand on end as the air and ground begin to rumble. I don’t even need to see the creature, for I can sense its powerful aura barreling toward us. “Retreat!” I bellow.
A guard screams in frustration as he mounts a horse, his hands fumbling with the reins in terror.
“Damn it! Freeze! Freeze! Freeze!” I throw the sack in the air and encase it within a wall of ice, then slap the horses on the rump to send them galloping. “Get away! Go now! Shine on! Shine on! Shine on!”
After ensuring the other guards have escaped, Rodney comes to stand beside me, chanting spells as well. Spheres of light pop into being all around us, their glow reflected by the frozen jewelry.
A shadowed mound appears beyond the light, darkening the sky further as it lets out an earth-shaking roar. Rodney and I jump as one into a bush some distance away from the supply wagons.
The dragon resembles a large lizard, though its short front legs, so at odds with its massive size, and muscular hind legs make it look more like a frog. When its opalescent white scales catch the moonlight, I can easily discern its form. A thick tail protrudes from its rounded back.
“Are you sure that thing can dance?” whispers Rodney.
“Stop it, shut up,” I hiss.
An instinct to shout a warning mingles with the terror welling deep in my soul, and for some reason I have the urge to laugh. But I don’t, instead crouching low as we retreat. The people on the carts lie still as well, totally motionless. If only one of them would make themselves useful and scream.
The dragon turns its head, seemingly suspicious of the ice wall that materialized in its path. Its glittering eyes shift between shades of green, from that of young saplings to the deeper viridian of the forest. Later, the only feeling I remember from that moment is surprise that its eyes were not golden.
Its gaze lands on the wagons. Then the ice wall shatters with a crash as the dragon twists to swipe them and the nearby trees with its tail. All three carts are immediately reduced to broken planks as they are hurled against the tree trunks. It aims a shrill, earsplitting shriek at the moon, the treetops shaking in response.
The guards should already be clear of the forest, and I don’t think the dragon’s noticed us yet, but… No, its stare is trained on me. It opens its mouth wide enough to swallow both me and Rodney whole, exposing two rows of teeth sharp as swords.
“A loved one waiting at home can serve as motivation to return to them safely.”
I suddenly recall what a general said to me long ago, the phrase repeating in my mind as I focus my magic.
Aim for the back of its throat.
Just as I’m about to summon a piece of ice sharp enough to kill…
A sound reminiscent of a summer storm stops the dragon in its tracks. It appears stunned, its green eyes darting back and forth.
Then the sound ceases as abruptly as it began, and the dragon’s scales flush from white to red under the bright moonlight.
And something falls to the ground, bouncing and rolling.
…An acorn?