Pups

                                                                                       Pups

         Jendrik Molguar, the Grand Baron of Haverly, was relaxing in his well-manicured garden with a fine Telarian brandy and a dish of homegrown candy.  The evening was exquisitely temperate and he was in high spirits; his wife had been called away to tend to her ailing father and the Baron was free to frolic in debauchery.

         Squirming about on his aged knee was the bottom of his chambermaid, Endaria, and she giggled in delight as he poured her a sloppy drink from the decanter.  “Here you are, my dear,” he told the young girl, licking his purple lips.  “My, but you are beautiful.”

         “So you keep saying, my lord,” Endaria replied, batting her lashes shamelessly.  “I fear what your wife, my lady Gwyndalyn, would say if she heard you referring to me as such.”

         Jendrik howled a drunken cackle and rubbed Endaria’s bottom.  Peering lustfully down her bodice, he said, “Then perhaps you should refrain from telling her.”

         She giggled again as his hand moved slowly to the small of her back, a spot Jendrik had previously discovered induced the girl to breathe heavily when rubbed just right. 

         Thump!

         “What was that?”  Endaria asked through a sudden fit of panting.

         “What was what?”

         She leaned over the Baron to peer past the trunk of a tall tree.  Jendrik took his opportunity and nibbled at her smooth neck.

         “My Lord, please,” she admonished, straining to see what had made the noise.

         Jendrik grunted.  “Well, what is it, my lovely?” he asked her, frustration shaping an edge to his voice.

         “I believe it is a goose,” she told him.

         The baron blinked.  “A goose?”

         “Yes.  It just fell from the sky, poor thing.”  Her eyes widened.  “Could it be an omen?”  She studied the goose more closely.  “It’s burnt up, my lord.  Still smoldering. What could that mean?”

         “Well . . .” the baron said as he tenderly planted kisses on Endaria’s lavender scented arm. “As omens go . . . ” he began rubbing her back again, drawing her attention away from the dismal sight.  When their gazes locked, he grinned as charmingly as his lazy eye would allow.  “I’d say our goose is cooked!”

         Endaria rolled her eyes as Jendrik cackled at his own joke.  After a few moments of that, and a few more of him wheezing, he took notice of her heaving bosom as she leaned over his shoulder to stare at the roasted fowl.  He buried his face in her cleavage and she yelped in surprise, leaning back on his lap and looking into his eyes once again.  He reached up and grabbed her chin in his hand.

         “My dear, fear not.  The beast’s sad end was undoubtedly brought about by some errant lightning and a flawed migration pattern.”  She blinked at him in confusion and he sighed.  “My wizard, Andlmyre, taught me of such things.” 

         Endaria, knowing the wizard was a sore subject for her lord, dutifully leaned forward to allow him a kiss.
         
        Thump . . .
         Thump!
         Thump!
         Thump!

         It was raining dead geese.  They dropped from above like giant feathery hailstones.  One landed close to the bench and the baron studied it as best he could with the girl flinging herself about in horror on his lap.  Half of its feathers were scorched away and the entire right side of its body was cooked; well done, from the looks of it.

         There was a thunder of snaps and cracks above them and he lifted his gaze.  The geese ricocheted through the trees as they plummeted towards earth and Endaria screamed, tearing herself away from Jendrik.  As she fled, the baron’s glass of brandy toppled from his grasp and shattered on the stone path.  Cursing, he rose to his feet.

         Thump!

         A goose struck him dead on the nose and he toppled backwards over the bench.  When he was able to fight his way into a sitting position, he could have sworn it had all been a dream.  The barrage of charred fowl had ceased as abruptly as it began and the only sound in the courtyard was that of his labored breathing.

         Jendrik clutched the bench and rose to his feet painfully.  He crossed the stone path and walked as far away from the bench and tree as possible.  When he came to the huge stone wall that enclosed the compound, he turned and peered up over the tree.

         Four large silhouettes danced in the sky high above it.  The remains of a large flock of geese were flying away from the huge creatures in an expanding ring of frantic flapping.  Jendrik watched in a rage as the huge shadows twirled overhead.

         The Grand Baron of Haverly muttered a curse and spat.  “Damn Dragons!”

                                                                                               *  *  *

         “Now that was fun!” Fang howled, cart-wheeling grandly in the warm summer air.  He was agile, to say the least.  Six of those slow-witted geese found that out on his first pass through their flock.

         “I’ll never understand birds,” Greenbeard said in his quiet tone.  “They believe their safety lies in numbers, but they are so small, they are much harder to see by themselves.”

         “Truly,” Shredder, the largest of the four replied.  “I almost felt sorry for them as we carved holes in their flock the size of mountain-tops.”

         “They certainly were tasty, though,” said Fang.

         Fireball looked at him and barked a gust of flame that became a laugh.  “You have some goose stuck on your fang, my prince.”

         Greenbeard and Shredder craned their long necks in mid-flight to look at Fang.  A full sized goose was impaled clean through the sleek dragon’s namesake.  His long, forked tongue licked at it vainly until, in his frustration, he belched a flame of his own and incinerated it.

         “All gone,” Fireball said, and swept his gaze across the land below.

         Haverly’s lush fields and grassy meadows rolled like waves closing on a shore.  It was windy today, and at this altitude they coasted along the warm air at dizzying speeds.  The sun was setting and shadows began a slow creep across the land.  Soon the great fiery ball would slip behind Maud-Tira, the range of mountains they called their home.  Then their fun would truly begin.

         They loved to fly at night.

         Fang, flying furthest to the left, dropped below the others and rolled right, his long tail twirling like a thorny windmill as he maneuvered.  He popped back into formation on the far right of the pack, grinning at Shredder.  “See anything?” he grumbled.

         Shredder’s lips curled up into a smile.  “Nothing yet.”

         “Humph,” Fang growled.  “Don’t think I didn’t see those horses in that meadow a stretch back.”  He raised his voice so the others could hear.  “Why we left this one in charge of the lookout is beyond my comprehension.”

         It was Greenbeard who responded.  “Because he can see down a pixie’s dress if she were doing a handstand on a tulip, that’s why.  You’re the prince around here, you could delegate some of the responsibilities.”

         “By your leave, Princey,” Shredder said to Fang, dipping into a mid-flight bow of mock respect, “I didn’t think pilfering horses would be prudent.  You know how the humans just love their horses.”

         Fireball belched a plume of flame and scratched frantically at his belly.  “I like horses,” he said enthusiastically.

         They all stared at him a moment, their wings suddenly stiff as they glided along in mock incredulity.  Fireball finally noticed them looking and swatted at his jowls nervously.  “What?  Do I have some goose too?”

         Greenbeard sighed.  “Are we flying too high for you this evening, Fireball?  Perhaps we should descend to where the atmosphere is thicker.”

         “Why do you always ask me that,” the confused beast sulked, his ears drooping a bit.

         “Oh, for the love of Tira, don’t start whining, Fireball,” Greenbeard pleaded.

         “I like horses,” Fireball repeated steadily, “because they run so fast.  They provide an entertaining hunt, that’s all.”

         “He has a point,” Shredder growled.  “Leave him be.”

         The four flew in silence for a few moments, watching as the sun sunk below their mountains in the distance.  Below them, patches of darkness began to blot the land as shadows gained density. 

         Fang snorted an excited puff of flame and grinned.  “Did you mention an entertaining hunt, Fireball?  I will lead you to one right now, my friend.  Follow me!”  And with that, he was in a nosedive, heading straight for a blazing swirl of lights flickering and spinning in the midst of a darkened meadow. 

         Fireball laughed with delight and looked at Greenbeard.  “Fairies!” he said, and followed Fang to the surface.

         Greenbeard and Shredder watched them go, their tongues lolled in amusement.  “Small minds are easily entertained,” Greenbeard said.

Shredder agreed.
         
                                                                                            *  *  * 

         “They must be destroyed!” Jendrik howled, hurling his chamber pot at the servant.

         “My lord?” Hilbert asked as he wiped his face in the crook of his elbow.  It had to be the chamber pot, didn’t it you old bastard!</i>  He peered past he Baron to Jendrik’s bed.  <i>It couldn’t have been a pillow for a change?

         “Those damn dragons!” the Grand Baron shrieked. “They have infested my realm for long enough!”  Hilbert was still wiping his face when the Baron flung a pillow at him.

         “My lord, why not hire a Dragon Hunter to rid you of the infestation.”  If only there were Baron Hunters to rid us of you!

         Jendrik froze and a smile grandly took hold of his face.  “Yes!  Yes, good thinking, Baron!”

         Hilbert let his mouth drop open.  The old bastard just took credit for my idea!  Either that, or my holdings just dramatically increased.

         Jendrik paced about his chamber, muttering frantically under his breath.  “Dragon Hunters . . . yes . . . good.”

         Hilbert sighed.  “Perhaps you should retire, Baron.”

         Jendrik paused, wrinkling his nose while looking at his retainer.  “Hilbert, you stink.  I will not have my personal body servant appearing so.  Go bathe at once.”  He held a hand to his head.  “I am tired.  I believe I will get some sleep.”

         Hilbert was purple with the effort of self-restraint.  “Good idea, Baron.”

         The Baron turned to his bed and began to disrobe. “Unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to.  Important matters.  I will leave it to you to find me some Dragon Hunters, Hilbert.  I would not know where to find rabble such as that.  I can only imagine that a man who walks around drenched in urine would have better luck.”  He made a shooing gesture and said, “Away.”

         Hilbert strode quickly for the door, wondering painfully how far the Baron would allow him to get before calling him back.  His inner question was answered as he reached for the gold knob.  “Oh, Hilbert,” the madman sung, and the servant spun.  “Be a good boy and on your way to liberate yourself from the odor of my piss, stop by the maids’ chambers and send Endaria to me, please?  There’s a good boy.”

         Hilbert bowed sharply, turned back to the door, and exited the chamber.  Endaria must owe the pig money, that had to be it.  What in the world was she thinking, bedding down with that lunatic?

         If Baroness Gwyndalyn ever found out, she’d have Endaria drawn and quartered.  If Bryllyn, the Baron and Baroness’s daughter ever found out, she would immediately tell her mother, and, well, there’s that drawn and quartering thing again.

         Hilbert found himself in a precarious position, being the Baron’s retainer and his daughter, Bryllyn’s lover.  If there was any consolation at all it was the lady Bryllyn’s smile.  He grinned.  And her cleavage.

         After his bath would have been the perfect time to pay her a visit, too.  Now he was saddled with the impossible task of scrounging up Dragon Hunters.  Where was he to begin?  There hadn’t been a reason to hunt dragons in the last twenty years.  The peace that had been settled upon at the end of the last war had been miraculously preserved.

         Looking up, he found himself at a junction of corridors and paused.  The path to the right led to the baths, and ultimately, Bryllyn’s welcoming bed.  The path to the left, potentially, to a quick end to his fruitless task.

         Hilbert was tempted, oh how he was tempted.

         After an eternity of indecision, he sighed and turned down the left corridor, leading to the barracks.

         Baron Pig-guts wants Dragon Hunters?  He’ll get them.

                                                                                              *  *  *

         A hundred thousand flecks of gold buzzed in a vortex of luminescence.  The fairies were playing with wild abandon, twirling their ageless dance about the dark meadow, unaware of the giant hurtling towards them.  Fang’s wings were pulled in close to his body as he approached: a picture of aerodynamic perfection. Then, just when it looked as though he would surely collide with the ground, the agile dragon spread his wings and became parallel with it.  The telltale swoosh of that act caused the vortex to stutter.

         A hundred thousand flecks of gold scattered in every direction as Fang tore through them, howling maniacally.  He could not sustain his roar for too long though.  He was laughing too hard.  “Bully!” he heard them shout, as he made his ascent with a powerful flap.  He turned just in time to see the vortex take shape again.  The fairies were tiny, but determined.  Fang grinned in anticipation.

         There was an explosive roar below and the twisting lights scattered again as Fireball took his turn.  Fang almost fell out of the sky, he was laughing so hard.

         “That was fun!” Fireball said once they were back with the others.

         “It certainly looked like fun,” Greenbeard told him.  “My heart is too soft for that sort of thing, though.”

         Fang rolled onto his back, his powerful wings beating fast to keep his bulk aloft, and held his fore-talons across his chest in a pleading gesture.  “Oh, won’t someone think of the fairies?” he asked, batting his eyes innocently.  “Yellowbeard begs for the preservation of their f-f-feelings!”

         The others chuckled and Greenbeard looked askance at Fang.  “I’d rather have a yellow beard than an anomalous growth protruding from my jaw.  How many knights have you unceremoniously sprung free of their armor with that thing, my prince?”

         Shredder and Fireball laughed all the more loudly, and Fang grinned in defeat.  “Well, what now?”

         There was no response.  Below them, another golden vortex, much larger that the first, spun about the black meadow.  As they passed high over it, Fang exhaled a long stream of flame.  The vortex seemed to hiccup, but none of the jittery fairies fled.  “I am not about to go home before the fairies stop dancing!”  He rolled his eye to Shredder. “Any ideas?”

         Shredder was grinning.  “We could go sniffing for virgins,” he offered.

         “I like virgins,” Fireball said, belching an excited plume.

         “Aye, and horses,” Fang growled.  “Well, at the very least, we should change directions.  We draw near Maud-Tira.”

         The others agreed and they veered off to the south, following a parallel path with the craggy range.  They flew in silence for a long time, coasting on the night wind like acrobatic boulders.  The land was black, but they could see it, and they searched desperately for anything that might amuse them.

         The problem was too many humans.  They were everywhere.  After the wars and the treaties that followed, the humans expanded throughout the land at an ever-increasing rate.  They had managed to push their borders within ten leagues of Maud-Tira in twenty years.

         The Elders had allowed them to do so, as a showing of good faith.  The lands to the east of the Maud-Tira range were the humans’ to do with as they pleased.  Dragons were allowed to hunt the wildlife in the entirety of the human lands, which included Briminor to the north, Haverly to the west and Khallanon further to the south along the Maud-Tira range, but that was becoming more and more difficult.  As the humans expanded closer to Maud-Tira, they chased most of the game away.  Though there were still some deer to be had, only the more resilient creatures remained in any significant numbers: bears, boars, ogres and wyverns, though the latter two were being systematically destroyed by the humans as they stabilized nature to suite them.  Gone were the days of plucking grazing bucks out of a bucolic meadow at whim.  Nowadays, dinner meant a well thought out ambush involving plenty of dragon-fire.  That meant dinner was cooked, more often than not, and that was another thing that bothered them.

         Dragons loved raw meat.

         “I could go for a horse chase right about now,” Greenbeard said wryly, eyeing Fireball with his left eye.

         “You see a horse?” the dun colored beast asked.

         Greenbeard tilted to the right and swatted the back of Fireball’s head with his left wing.  Fireball spewed a quick rip of flame at him.

         “Don’t hit him so hard!” Shredder said in mock fright.  “He could combust at any moment!”

         Fireball looked at him and bared his teeth.  “Shouldn’t we be attending to the task at hand here?”

         “We could always hunt a whale,” Fang suggested.  “That tends to pass the time.”

         Greenbeard cast a glance at Maud-Tira.  Beyond the range, the land dropped to a savage ocean that beat mercilessly against the cliffs.  “I don’t feel like getting wet.”

         “Salt water stiffen your beard?” Fang asked.  The others laughed unabashedly.

         “I would not poke fun, highness, seeing as how I’m the only one here with a beard.” 

         That silenced them all and Greenbeard sniffed in satisfaction.  “I say we plop down for a rest. My wings ache.”

         Fireball grunted. “Thank Tira!  That’s the best idea anyone’s had all night!”

         “It’s the only idea anyone’s had all night,” Shredder muttered, and they dove as one for the surface.
         
         
                                                                                           *  *  *
         
         “Dragon Hunters?” Sergeant Westfall asked, his half melted, hideously scarred face stretching into an ugly grin.  “I’ll volunteer now if I get the chance to kill me a dragon.”

         “I knew you’d be up to the task, Westfall,” Hilbert told him with a self-satisfied nod.

         The Sergeant, as legend told it, had been a handsome man before the wars with the dragons.  One of the many dangers of making war on such beasts, however, and perhaps the most widely touted, was their ability to breathe fire.

         Sarge had found that out in spades.

         Legend now spoke of Westfall’s undying hatred for dragons and Hilbert always had his ear to the ground.  “Can you think of any others who would be eager to join you?”

         Westfall thought to himself for a moment.  “Aye, three others.  Two who have scores to settle, as I, and one who is young, but ballsy.  You know the type, Hilbert, always angry at the world, but too young yet to really know what it is they’re angry about.”

         Hilbert didn’t really know the type, but he nodded anyway.  “Any more than that?”  Sarge shook his head and Hilbert made a face.  “That’s it?  Three?  There are nearly two thousand soldiers stationed here.”

         Sarge shrugged. “You call them soldiers, but they’re a shaky lot.  Most of these lads have never known the warmth of a woman.  Not to worry though, four good men and a sufficient trap will do nicely for our needs, boy.  Dragons are a crafty, devious brood, but they have to eat and they live to hoard their gold.”

         “If you say so, Sergeant.”

         The Sarge was growing excited and he rubbed his hands together vigorously.  “We could set a trap outside the castle . . . some gold chests, maybe a flock of sheep.  If these dragons are stupid enough to break the peace, as Baron Molguar says, then they’ll go for that.  They won’t be able to help themselves!”

         “Excellent, Sergeant.  The Baron wants this done immediately.  I will see what I can do about getting you a few chests of gold.”

         Sergeant Westfall nodded his thanks and scratched at his scorched, bald pate, eying Hilbert as if for the first time.  “You’re the one who’s got the Baron’s daughter in the sack, no?”

         Hilbert actually felt himself blush.  “I don’t know what you—“

         Westfall waved Hilbert’s denial away dismissively and snorted.  “No need to lie to me, boy, I couldn’t give a troll’s arse if you are or you ain’t.  But, if I may, a word of advice?"

         “Go on.”

         The Sarge wrinkled his melted nose.  “No woman, ‘specially one of nobility like Lady Bryllyn, enjoys the stench of urine.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned about them after all these years, it’s that.”

         Hilbert pinched the bridge of his nose in misery.  “I’ll keep that in mind, Sarge.”

                                                                                                 *  *  *
         
         Greenbeard, Shredder and Fang came to rest alongside the Highway of Haverly.  From the air, during the day, the road looked like a snaking brown scar slithering through earth.  The dragons found they had much more use for the road down here.

         Especially at night.

         “I’m sure I saw a carriage,” Shredder told them excitedly.

         “We’ll just have to wait and see,” Greenbeard replied.  “Unless you’d like to go back up and make sure?”

         Shredder shook his head and peered down the road eagerly.  “It’s more fun this way.”

         “You’re just too lazy,” Fang said through a yawn as he stretched his wings and limbs.

         Greenbeard chuckled.  “Well, we can ask Fireball when he decides to drop in.”

         As if summoned, the lumbering beast fell from the sky.  He landed in the middle of the road and was nearly sent sprawling by his own momentum.  The others would have laughed were they not transfixed on the huge buck lying on the ground before him.

         “Got him,” Fireball said proudly, once he had regained his balance.

         Shredder grinned.  “Good job!”

         “Save the rump for me,” Fang grumbled.

         Fireball spewed a short burst of flame.  “I caught him, I get the rump!”

         “No fire, you fool!” Shredder chastised Fireball, peering off down the road.  “What if he sees you?”

         “He’s about five minutes away, Shredder,” Fireball said, “and he must climb a fairly steep incline before he gets here.”

         “Ha!  I knew I saw something!”

         They fed quickly and then took their positions along the edge of the highway, standing side by side and spreading their wings as wide as they could.  A few moments later the sounds of drunken singing echoed to them out of the darkness and the dragons shifted in anticipation. 

         The drunk ones were always much more fun.

         The girls, the girls, they dance so gay,
         And speak of things they want to say,
         And never, ever go away,
         Until you don’t want them to leave.

         They steal your heart, they steal your coin,
         But leave a tingle in your loin,
         And some will kick you in your groin,
         If you should so much as snee—
         
         The drunken ditty died abruptly and the carriage ground to a halt.  The horses whinnied nervously.  The driver was staring directly at the dragons and they knew that to him, they appeared as black mountains.

         “Where’d the stars go?” the man slurred in alarm.

         “Where’d the stars go?” Greenbeard mimicked with a deep grumble in his voice.

         “Who . . . who said that?” the man asked, fumbling behind him for his lantern.

         “Who said that?” Fang asked, his voice demonic.

         The driver unhooked the lantern from the side of the carriage and thrust it out.  The fierce, blood and gore-covered face of Fireball stared back.  “Oh, you needed a light?”  Suddenly, a great fount of dragon-fire thundered from his gaping maw into the night sky like an erupting volcano.

         The man screamed, nearly falling out of his carriage when the horses bolted.  He was still screaming as he raced off into the night.

         The dragons rolled around in hysterics, each one loosing a spontaneous puff of fire as they howled with laughter.  After a few moments, Fang used his wings to vault himself into the air.  He landed on Shredder, pinning the larger beast to the ground.  Shredder could do nothing but futilely beat at Fang’s backside with his tail.

         “Too easy, sonny,” Fang told him in a disappointed tone.  “Far too easy.”  Shredder wrinkled his nose in threat and Fang said quickly, “No fire!  It’s against the rules!”

         “Not where sneak attacks are concerned,” Shredder growled.

         Fang turned to Greenbeard.  “I defer to your wisdom, bearded ancient,” he said sarcastically.

         Greenbeard lolled his tongue in amusement.  “Don’t you two make an adorable pair?”

“Oh, that’s it,” Shredder growled.  “Prince or no prince, you’re dead!”  With a snort, he bathed Fang’s chest in cool blue flame.  Cool or not, Fang yelped in surprise and flinched.  Shredder took advantage and grappled Fang to the ground with his powerful fore-talons.

        Fireball and Greenbeard looked at each other and, grinning, jumped into the fray.

                                                                                                    *  *  *
         
         “The question becomes, how badly do you want them dead?”

         Baron Pig-guts stared fiercely into the dark hearth, hunched over and deep in thought.  Hilbert knew he was deep in thought because the Baron tended to move his lips as he plotted; as he did when he read a book or counted on his fingers.  Donned in his dragon-scale armor and caressing the scabbard sheathing his family’s sword, Hilbert thought Baron Molguar looked like a goblin.  A hobgoblin, even.

         “You must decide, my lord.  May we use the gold or not?”

         The Baron rubbed his face vigorously.  “Hilbert, there are disturbing events occurring in the world.  Events of such bowel-loosening magnitude, that one of your station, by all rights, might just leap from the cliffs of Maud-Tira should you even catch hint of them whispered on a breeze.  Failing that, I’d venture to say you might just piss yourself from fear.”  He grinned crookedly and Hilbert fought off the urge to commit murder.

         “That is why I asked you how badly you want them dead, my lord.  Enough to haul a few chests from the coffers?”

         Baron Molguar heaved a great, melodramatic sigh.  “I wish I had my wizard.”

         Hilbert blanched.  The last time he’d seen Andlmyre, the Baron’s advisor, Jendrik was tossing him off the drawbridge into the moat.  Pig-guts was quite vehement in his desire never to see the wizard again.  There were rumors about what had transpired between the two to cause the rift, but nothing remotely resembled a believable story.

         “We need the gold for an army, Hilbert.  There are things afoot . . . if that gold . . .”  The Baron glanced down at his dragon-scale armor and snarled.  “Oh, but how I hate them so!”

          I know how you feel, Hilbert thought.  “They slaughtered the animals an hour ago and we are expecting the foul beasts to show soon.”

         “Enough!  Take the gold, piss-boy, but heed this warning.” Jendrik pointed a crooked finger at Hilbert’s chest.  “If they pilfer even one coin, I will string you up by your thumbs and send you to Maud-Tira to bring it back.  Do you understand?”

         Hilbert gulped.  “Yes, my lord.”
         
                                                                                                 *  *  *

         Greenbeard was the first to wake, and he roused the others frantically.  “How could we have been stupid enough to fall asleep on the highway?” he asked when they were finally in flight.

         “Maybe we were delirious from hunger,” Shredder said groggily.  “I can barely keep my wings steady.”

         “Do you think they saw us?” Fireball asked, eyeing the distant Maud-Tira range uneasily.

         “Don’t you think we’d know by now if they did?”          Greenbeard snapped.  Fireball’s ears drooped and Greenbeard grinned sheepishly.  “I’m sorry, Fireball.  I’m cranky when I have to fly right after I wake up.”  He studied the terrain for a moment and sighed.  “We should hunt.  I’m starved as well.”

         They gained some altitude and surveyed the land, flying northeast over the huge forest called Dragon’s Blood by the humans; named so during the wars.  The fields and meadows buffering the southern and western flanks of the forest were usually a fine place for hunting; one of the only places left to go for a sure catch.

         This morning, there was nothing.  For as far as they could see, there was not a trace of another living creature.

         Except for humans, of course.

         They followed the forest’s border until it ended abruptly two leagues off from the castle of the Grand Baron of Haverly. Human fortifications always unnerved them.  Before they could turn away, Shredder shouted, “Ho there!  What’s that?”

         “What?” his three companions asked in unison.

         Shredder’s gaze was fixed on the castle.  “It seems the humans have stacked about thirty goats and a few cows into one mouth-watering pile of breakfast, right in the Baron’s backyard!”

         “I see them,” Fireball said excitedly.  “Oh, there’s even a few horses!”

         “What’s this?” Shredder continued, his voice raising an octave.  “It looks like a few chests of gold are lying around the yard as well!”

         “I like gold,” Fireball said with a grin.

         Greenbeard rolled his eyes.  “Are you both insane?  It’s obviously a trap!”  They stared at him, grins as big as ever.  Greenbeard growled and looked at Fang.  “Would you like to explain it to them, princey?”

         Fang was polishing his gigantic fang with some spit, flame, and tongue.  He took a moment to look at the castle and then rolled his eye towards his friends.  “The animals are believable.  Maybe they were sick and were being readied for incineration.  But the gold?  Raw meat plus gold chests equals dragon-trap in my book.” 

        Shredder and Fireball wilted with disappointment.  Fang looked at them and then at Greenbeard, who was grinning in a self-satisfied way.  “However, I say we take part in the grand buffet the humans have so considerately set for us.” 

        Greenbeard was about to protest, but Fang snorted a puff of smoke.  “Would you rather wrestle an ogre this morning, Greeny?”

        Greenbeard looked indignant.  “Greeny?”

        Fang made a face.  “You call me Princey.  Turnabout, and all.” 

      Greenbeard grinned wickedly.  “You are all insane.  All right, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.  I’ll lead, Shredder follows, then Fireball.  Princey, you take the rear because you’re the best flyer.”

“Finally, he admits it!” Fang said through an ugly, toothy grin.

         Greenbeard growled.  “Imagine how fast you could fly if the wind wasn’t catching so must resistance on that thing sprouting out of your face!”

         “You worm,” Fang retorted.

         They lined up, spreading their wings as they began their descent.  Greenbeard turned to the massive creature behind him.  “Shredder, keep an eye out for guards!”

         “As you wish, Greeny.”

         They dove swiftly.  As they were spotted, curses were hurled in their direction.  Wildly shot arrows followed. Greenbeard headed straight for a pile of dead goats, snatching two per talon, never losing his momentum.  With a tremendous flap, he was over the wall and safely away.

         Next came Shredder and he managed to grab five goats before he was off.

         Fireball made straight for the horses and spewed a great burst of flame at a man in full armor training a crossbow on him.  He lifted one in each of his talons and hurled himself over the wall.

         Fang grabbed two chests of gold and howled triumphantly as he lifted his wings for the flap that would see him to safety as well.

         The man with the crossbow fired, striking Fang under his wing.  The sleek dragon’s howl of triumph became one of pain as he toppled out of the sky and crashed into the base of the wall.  Unfazed, he rolled to his feet and, instinctively, sprayed everything in front of him with white-hot dragon fire.

         When his assault ceased, Fang stared in bewilderment at his handiwork.  The melted bodies of three men, cooked inside their armor, were strewn before him.  Each one had a shield fused to their breastplates and each one held a sword.

         “You bastard!” he heard someone scream, and Fang turned his gaze upon the man who had shot him.  The man limped towards Fang, struggling to reload his weapon.

         Greenbeard, Shredder and Fireball dropped in next to Fang.  “You bastards!” the man howled again.  At one point in his life, the man had been horribly burned.  His face was melted.  “You didn’t have to fry them like that!”

         “You shot me!” Fang howled, lifting his wing to show his companions the evidence.  Greenbeard craned his neck under Fang’s wing and liberated the crossbow bolt with his teeth.  Fang sighed in relief and then turned back to the man who was still struggling with the infernal crossbow.  “If you don’t put that thing away, I’ll fry you too!”

         Just then, a door leading from the castle to the courtyard burst open and another man, this one wearing dragon-scale armor, ran towards them brandishing a pretty sword.  Yet another man followed, unarmed and grinning like a fool.

         “What now,” Greenbeard whispered to Fang, amusement in his voice.

         “I have had enough of you disgusting beasts!” the sword-wielding man screeched.  He made to charge them, but Fireball halted his steps with some flame.

         “Who are you?” Greenbeard asked.  The man was frothing at the mouth, but he stood tall as he replied.  “I am Grand Baron Jendrik Molguar, and I wear scales such as yours!  I am impervious to your fire!”  The Grand Baron cackled like a maniac.

         “This one’s been in the sun too long,” Shredder said to Fireball.  Fireball snickered.

         The Baron raised his sword, eyeing Shredder.  “You dare mock me?”

         Shredder stared for a second, then slowly moved his bulk till he towered over the Baron.  The man stared up at him defiantly, but his sword quavered in his grasp.  Shredder studied him curiously for a moment, then slammed his massive paw onto the Baron’s chest, bowling him over and pinning him to the ground.

         The Baron appeared to be knocked senseless for a moment, but soon began thrashing under Shredder’s talon.  “Sergeant!” he howled.

         “Yes, my lord?” The hideously deformed man snapped to attention.

         “Find Bryllyn an bring her to me.  Now!”

         “Yes sir!” the Sergeant said with a salute.

         “Baron!” the weaponless man asked frantically, his grin now gone.  “Why do you send for your daughter?”

         Jendrik squirmed under Shredder’s paw to look at him.  “It is not required that I explain myself to you, Hilbert.”

         “Of course, my lord,” Hilbert said, thinly veiled hatred evident in his voice.  He looked up at Shredder and cupped his hands over his mouth.  “Squash the bugger!” he whispered.  The dragon looked at him curiously, then snorted a laugh.

         A few minutes of uncomfortable silence, interrupted by the sporadic fits of hysterical weeping by the Baron, passed while they waited for the sergeant to return.  Finally, he reappeared, kicking open the door and dragging a frantic girl along by her long, golden hair. 

         “Unhand me, you burnt swine!” she howled.

         “Bryllyn!” Hilbert shouted, but the sergeant held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

         “No, Hilbert, it must be this way,” the Baron said, from under Shredder’s talon.  “These foul beasts will only be satiated by one thing: the blood of a virgin.”  He looked up at Shredder, his face as twisted as his mind.  “Take my fair daughter, who has never known the touch of a man!  Take her and depart from my realm fully assured that we once again are at war!”

         Bryllyn, face flushed, looked at the Baron.  “Uh, father . . .”

         The Baron once again squirmed and strained under Shredder’s talon in order to face his daughter.  “My dear, try not to dissuade me, for my decision is final.  I love you, but my realm simply would not survive, should I depart this life today.  Your untainted flesh should subdue these loathsome beasts.”

         “Father, I . . .”

         “Hush girl, I understand.”

         Shredder leaned over till he was face to face with Bryllyn.  She stared him nervously in the eye, but her back was stiff.  He craned his neck down so his nostrils were hovering over her feet.

         Then he inhaled deeply, drawing his nose up the length of her entire body.  When he reached her head, he closed his eyes a moment, mulling her scent over in his mind. 

         Suddenly he grinned.  Quite wickedly.

         She knew why he smiled; as did Hilbert.  And Sarge, for that matter.  She raised her fist in warning and Shredder’s grin widened.

         “Nay, Baron,” Shredder intoned once he was sure his voice would not betray her, “we shall not require the flesh of this fair young maiden, wholesome and virtuous as she may be—“ he winked at her.  “And we certainly are not at war.  My companions and I were simply hungry and we saw our chance for some breakfast.”

         “And gold,” Fang mumbled.

         Sarge lunged forward, heaving himself atop Shredder’s talon and pulling with all his might to lift it off the Baron.  It didn’t budge an inch.  “You killed three of my men!” he howled.

         Fang loosed a burst of angry fire.  “Because you shot me!”

         “Fellows . . .” Fireball muttered.  He was watching the sky.

         Suddenly there was a roar of thunderous flapping all around, and the courtyard was full of huge dragons.

         “Oh, wonderful,” Fang mumbled.  “Now we’re done for.”

         “What’s going on here?” one of the new arrivals asked in a deep, rumbling tone.  He strode over to Shredder and raised a scaled eyebrow.  “Luric, why are you squashing the Grand Baron of Haverly?”

         Shredder stared at the newly arrived dragon a moment, then looked down at the Baron and removed his massive paw.  “Sorry, my lord,” he said, then licked the man’s face with his long, forked tongue.

         Fang, Greenbeard and Fireball could not help but laugh.

         “That’s enough!” one of the Elders roared.  “Fraag, come here!”

         “Yes, papa,” Greenbeard said, and puttered to his sire’s side.

         “Marin!” another Elder called.

         “Damn!” Fireball muttered.  When he reached his mother’s side, she lifted a wing and whacked him on top of his head.

         “You too, Valhon, before the moon is up.”

         “Aye,” Fang said, flexing his wounded wing.

         The Elders gathered around the Baron and stared down at him menacingly.

         Fang’s sire lowered his head, which was almost as large as the Baron’s entire body.  “Nice armor,” he growled.  The Baron spluttered a moment, writhing in terror.  “I hope these pups were not too much of a nuisance to you, Baron.  Rest assured, though, that although you have wounded the crown prince of Maud-Tira,” he gestured to Fang with his pointed chin, “my son . . .” Jendrik blinked, then turned stark white and released his sword.  The Dragon King continued. “Rest assured, we are not at war.”  He turned to the others and growled under his breath, “Good day, Baron.”

         As one, the great beasts hurled themselves into the sky.  The people in the courtyard stared after the unusual flock till they became black specks in the distance and were gone.

         When the Baron turned this gaze to the ground once again, he noticed that the stack of animals and, more importantly, every chest of gold, was gone.

         He turned his bleary-eyed gaze upwards and raised a fist, howling at the sky.  “Damn dragons!”