John Gardner - In the Suicide Mountains

“I’m proud of you, Prince Christopher,” said Armida, trying hard to smile through her tears. “You will be careful?”

The prince laughed sadly. “How can a person be careful with a fire-breathing dragon?” He sighed one more time, gave them a wave, and started the horse toward the cave. A puff of smoke came out the entrance. Chudu batted his fists together, counting like lightning, and Armida made a kind of peeping sound, holding back sobs. When the horse had gone twenty paces, lifting his hooves high, like a parade horse, not from pride but because he was sick with fright and wanted to take the shortest steps possible, Armida called out, “I love you, Prince Christopher!” The prince turned and smiled and waved again and blew Armida a kiss. When the horse had gone forty paces, Armida suddenly threw down her comb and ran after him. “Wait!” she yelled. “ Wait! ”

The prince stopped and turned his horse sideways, letting her catch up. Chudu the Goat’s Son took off after Armida, putting his pipe out as he ran by poking his finger in the bowl, and reached the horse two steps behind her.

“Prince Christopher, I have an idea,” Armida said. Her bosom heaved, and in her embarrassment at having an idea she blushed scarlet.

“You do?” he said.

“Yes.” She brushed her hair back. “Let me kill the dragon.”

“You?” He looked baffled, then indignant.

“I know, I know, it’s not what the beautiful maiden’s supposed to do, and I’m ashamed of myself for suggesting it — you can see that for yourself. But think about it. No one will ever know except us three, and I’m stronger than you.”

“You are ?”

“Watch,” she said. She glanced around for some suitable demonstration, then settled on the horse himself, took a deep breath, and picked up the horse in her arms with the prince still on it.

“Wow!” said the prince respectfully. The horse pawed the air and craned his head around to look.

She put him down again. “Also — I don’t want to hurt your feelings, because I do love you, you know I do — but the truth is, I might be, well, smarter. I’ve thought of a plan.”

The prince studied her, his expression so hurt they were afraid he might cry; then he turned away and picked at his beard, thinking. At last he said, “I can’t do it. I mean it, Armida. If it ever got out that I sat back and allowed a beautiful maiden to—”

“But it won’t get out! You know I’d die to protect your reputation. And you won’t tell. What would that make me look like?”

“Yes, but there’s the dwarf.”

Armida laughed, though her eyes were still teary. Now she knew she had him. “The dwarf, you silly goose, loves me . He’s even a little fond of you, I think.”

The prince looked down sternly at Chudu. “Is that true?”

Chudu the Goat’s Son bit his lip, then nodded.

The prince looked off for a long moment at the black entrance to the dragon’s cave. “Well son of a gun,” he said. After a while he said, “What’s your plan?”

“We’ll use teamwork,” she said. “We’ll gang up on him. Your job is to play the violin. That will lure him out into the sunlight, where his magic charm won’t help. And then the dwarf will go into a horrible tantrum and shape-shift and ruin things until the dragon charges him. And then I’ll gallop in from the side on the horse and mash, mash, mash, mash! ” With two hands she swung an imaginary sword. When she’d mashed four times, she held out the imaginary sword as a pointer. “Dead dragon.”

The prince picked at his chin. His eyes lit up. “It just might work,” he said, and almost smiled.

“Nothing doing!” said Chudu the Goat’s Son fiercely. “It’s not my nature to have tantrums.”

“It’s your secret nature, dwarf, and we all know it.” She smiled as if she actually liked his secret nature, and she patted his hump. Perhaps in the back of her mind she was hoping it would bring luck.

“It’s not fair!” yelled the dwarf, and snatched off his hat and began stomping it.

“That’s good!” Armida said. “That’s perfect! When the dragon comes, do that.”

“Ouch, ouch, ouch!” yelled Chudu’s hat.

And so, despite Chudu’s protests, the thing was decided.

“I’ll never live this down,” the prince said, gloomily shaking his head; but he let them help him off with his armor, and Armida put it on. She swung the sword and ax a few times and hefted the lance to get the feel of it. Then they helped her up on the horse, and Christopher the Sullen got out his violin, tightened the bowstrings, and carefully tuned it. Armida rode the horse into the woods so the dragon wouldn’t see him when he came barreling out.

“Now?” the prince called softly.

“Now!” Armida answered.

Christopher the Sullen began to play. Chudu’s hair stood on end, it was so beautiful and tragic, and tears filled his eyes so he could barely see. He brushed them away with both hands to keep a bead on the cave-mouth. The music dipped and swooped like a mournful swallow, darting across the valley, gliding through the trees, and then, suddenly, there loomed the head of the dragon, peeking from the cave. The prince faltered, so horrible was the dragon’s look, then went on playing. The head snaked out farther, rising up into the sky and weaving as it came; it was wide and flat, like a poisonous snake’s, and the glittering tusks in its partly opened mouth were nine feet long. The eyes were black mirrors that reflected the whole valley, and the scales on the neck and chest and belly, like the bristles on his pate, were of colored metal plate and all brighter than lightning. Back and forth the head moved, slowly, terribly, like the head of a cobra; and now one foot came out into the valley — talons like a monstrous eagle’s — and after it a second foot. For a moment it seemed that the music alone would bring Koog into the sunlight, but with his two feet exposed he paused, for profound caution was in Koog’s nature, and his terrible head stopped moving. He seemed to meditate.

At a hundred and forty-four thousand, Chudu stopped counting and went into his rage.

“ YARG! WOOF! YOWL!! ” bellowed Chudu the Goat’s Son, and the noise was like a hundred volcanoes. The dragon jerked his head back. Chudu ran forward, trembling in his fury like a thrashing machine. Never in his life had he felt such pure, glorious anger. He turned himself into a thunderball and set a tree on fire, then turned himself into a mad bull elephant and stomped the ground until it split in a great wide seam and he almost fell in. He turned himself into a sheep and ran straight at the cave-mouth, then turned into a hawk and sped away just in time as the dragon spit flame and the sky rained soot. He turned himself into a laughing hyena and laughed at the dragon with bitter scorn, then turned himself into a silly old woman in a rowboat, drinking gin. He turned himself into a cat, then a bat, then a mouse, then a house, then a huge, four manual pipe-organ.

The dragon couldn’t stand it. He plunged into the valley with a terrible roar and a great belch of fire and came bounding toward Chudu with his vast, webbed wings half-extended. Chudu turned into thin air and was gone from sight.

Out came Armida and the horse full tilt, the lance running straight as an arrow, cradled in her arm. The dragon turned sharply and raised his head to spit fire, but too late, his enemy was upon him, and before he could even cry out at her in righteous indignation I AM KOOG! , the lance went straight through him, and Armida had jumped up and was standing on the saddle, swinging with the broadsword, cutting off his head. It fell like some colossal boulder — the horse leaped back — and the mirroring eyes went unfocused. Chudu turned back into himself and lay panting in the grass.