Hugh Cook - The Werewolf and the Wormlord

‘How?’ said Alfric.

‘Well,’ said Qa, ‘in my younger days, I used to bite off heads. Of course I broke the occasional fang on an iron collar or such. Then the rest of my teeth fell out with the onset of age. So these days I usually stand back and throw things.’

‘Throw things?’ said Alfric.

‘Well, rocks,’ said the dragon.

So saying, Qa secured a skull-sized rock with his talons.

‘See that helmet?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said Alfric.

The helmet sat atop a dismal pile of shattered bucklers and mangled armour. Qa threw the stone with great speed and accuracy. The helmet was smashed back against the wall of the cave.

‘That’s… that’s remarkably good throwing,’ said Alfric.

‘Also a demonstration of intelligence,’ said Qa. ‘That’s what makes a sea dragon dangerous.’

‘Dangerous indeed!’ said Alfric. ‘Quite frankly, I don’t think I’ve got a chance of besting you in combat.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Qa, ‘because I rather like you. You’re much more polite than the average Knight. I mean, they usually rabbit on no end about me eating that child and all the rest. Well, maybe it was a breach of etiquette, but I don’t see that it was a sin. After all, something has to keep down the human population, doesn’t it? Humans have no natural predators to keep their numbers in check, so if it wasn’t for the occasional maneating dragon and such, you’d have a thousand million people or more living in Yestron alone.’

Alfric knew this was quite impossible, but nevertheless shuddered at such a nightmarish thought. A thousand million people! A ludicrous notion. But imagine…

‘What about sea dragons?’ said Alfric. ‘Is there anything that eats sea dragons?’

‘Oh, all kinds of things,’ said Qa. ‘Sharks, for example. Though sometimes we eat back. I’ve killed a good many sharks in my time, I’ll have you know. Used to make a sport of it. Then there’s sea serpents. Oh, and krakens of course. You know. The usual run of sea monsters.’

‘That sounds very interesting,’ said Alfric. ‘What say you tell me about it while we have a little meal? If I’m going to die, I’d like to die on a full belly, and to listen to some more of your poetry before I expire, if you don’t mind.’

‘Why, that sounds a capital idea,’ said the dragon. Then, mournfully: ‘But I’m afraid I don’t really have anything to offer you. It’s not much of a life here, you see. Seaweed, that’s what it mostly comes down to. Eating seaweed.’

‘Actually,’ said Alfric, ‘I’m partial to seaweed.’

‘Of course you are,’ said Qa, ‘you being a child of Wen Endex and all. But you like it cooked, don’t you? Humans can’t eat much of the stuff raw, oh no, I know that from past experience. I used to try keeping the occasional captive, when I had two of them. I sometimes did, you know. They didn’t always come alone, even though that’s the law. So I’d try to preserve some of the meat on the hoof. But they always complained most bitterly about the diet.’

‘As it happens,’ said Alfric, ‘I’ve some food in my pack. Pork, actually. I have heard it said that sea dragons are partial to pork. You’re most welcome to share it with me.’

‘Why, that’s very gracious of you,’ said Qa.

So Alfric opened up his pack and the pair began to banquet upon pork, with Alfric taking care to select the very best bits for the dragon. While they ate, they discussed Galsh Ebrek. Qa had heard of the untunchilamons, and was most interested in the progress of that breed of miniatures.

‘Maybe I could get one,’ said Qa. ‘As a pet. I’ve never had a pet, you know. It’s a pity I have to kill you, otherwise you could fetch me one.’

‘Doubtless you’ll get all you deserve in time,’ said Alfric. ‘Would you care for some more pork?’

‘Please.’

‘You’ve got quite an appetite,’ said Alfric.

‘Yes,’ said Qa. ‘Since this is winter, I have to eat extramuch. Otherwise I’d have to hibernate. Most sea dragons do, you know. All through winter. Of course, extramuch mostly means great quantities of seaweed. Fortunately, I’m able to vary the diet from time to time.’ ‘How?’ said Alfric.

‘With Yudonic Knights, of course,’ said Qa. ‘And their horses. Would you like some fresh horsemeat to go with your pork?’

‘I’d like that very much, if it were available,’ said Alfric. ‘For I’m rather partial to horsemeat. But unfortunately there’s no horse available.’

‘There is, you know,’ said Qa.

Then the dragon went to the back of the cave, dipped its talons into a generous crack in the rock, and hauled out something which smelt very much like fresh meat. It proved to be the haunch of a horse. A horse very recently dead, if Alfric was any judge — and he thought himself a good one.

‘You see,’ said Qa, ‘I did swim to the forest. I did find your horse.’

There was a pause.

Really!

This was most difficult!

‘I–I’m sorry I lied to you about the horse,’ said Alfric. ‘But the rest is true. About the poetry, the invitation to Tang. All true.’

‘I wish I could believe you,’ said the dragon. ‘But I can’t. You’re a liar, you see. Never mind, we won’t let that stand in the way of our friendship. Which will last at least until the meal ends. Perhaps you’re in the mood to listen to some more of my poetry. Are you?’

‘Most definitely,’ said Alfric.

So Qa began to recite. On and on went the recitation, the dragon at length abandoning food in favour of unrestricted concentration on poetry.

But it was too late.

For the dragon had already eaten more than it should have done.

And, soon enough, its eyes began to lull, its words became slurred, and it was struggling to keep its balance. Suddenly it fell over to one side. And then was abruptly sick.

‘Oh,’ said Qa, mournfully. ‘I haven’t been sick like that for years. Not since they fed me opium. At a banquet, it was. Done for a joke. There was opium, wasn’t there? In the pork. The bits you fed me.’

‘Yes,’ admitted Alfric.

‘You did well,’ said the dragon. ‘But not quite well enough. I’ve still the strength to kill you, you know. You’d better run while you’ve still got time.’

‘You’re bluffing, I’m afraid,’ said Alfric. ‘What’s more, I know you’re bluffing. Furthermore, it’s time for me to kill you.’

‘Just one thing I ask,’ said the dragon.

‘What’s that?’

‘No lectures, please,’ said Qa. ‘Not while I’m writhing in my death agonies. I couldn’t bear it. Lectures, I mean. About eating children and all that.’

‘Oh, that’s perfectly understandable,’ said Alfric, who detested children. ‘No, I’m not killing you for any moralistic reasons. I’m killing you out of enlightened self-interest. How would you like to be killed?’

‘A blade in the heart would be quickest,’ said Qa, rolling over. ‘Stick it in here.’

So saying, the dragon tapped its belly with a set of talons, indicating the location of the heart. Then it closed its eyes, as if waiting for death.

Alfric cautiously stepped back, away from the dragon. Stealthily he picked up a skull-sized rock. Then tossed it. So it landed on the dragon’s belly.

Instantly the creature exploded into wrathful action, clawing with all four taloned legs, fire ravaging the air as it roared its anger. Then it realized it had been tricked. It had been fooled into expending its best energies on nothing more than a rock. It screamed, incoherent with rage. Scrabbled to its feet. Charged at Alfric.

But stumbled, tricked out of its balance by opium. Slithered. Fell. And Alfric drew his sword and leapt forward, stricking, hacking, slashing, plunging. Then struggling, struggling, struggling to draw out the steel which was stuck in the flesh, flesh he was kicking and cursing.