Kresean shrugged. “I fought and fought. Those that could not be harmed by weapons, we left to the mages. Those that could bleed, we attacked. I owe a lot to the men around me. They saved my life more than once. I wanted to do the same for them, but there is only so much one man can do. Most of us who made it to the end were just plain lucky. I barely remember the point at which I looked up and noticed that no one else was fighting. No Chaos fiends, no friendly faces. It was only later I heard that the leader of the Chaos hordes had been killed, and that was why the rest lost heart. Otherwise, I believe we would all have died. You simply cannot imagine-”
“Even faced with that, you still fought on,” Dayn whispered, more to himself than to Kresean. But Kresean heard him.
“What else could I do? My friends all died fighting. I was just waiting for my turn, but my turn never came,” Kresean said. He shook his head, as if warding off a bad dream. “That’s why I want to help these folks with the dragon. Somehow my life was spared. I ought to do something worthwhile with it.”
Now they were heading to a small town called Feergu, so small that Dayne had never heard of it. It was up in the mountains, and Kresean had got word of a young dragon in the vicinity killing off livestock. Then, a week ago, a young child had turned up missing.
“How are you going to kill the dragon?” Dayn asked his newfound friend as they rode along. “Won’t you need a dragonlance or something?”
“Aye, I wish I had one. If it was full grown, there would be no hope without one, but if it is young, I should be able to take it.”
“You’re really going to fight a dragon?”
“That’s right, lad, and you’re going to write about it.” Kresean twisted in his saddle, winked at Dayn.
“That’s beautiful.”
“Do you think that’ll be something others would want to hear?” Kresean asked, smiling. “Do you think that will raise their spirits?”
“Definitely.” Dayn felt he would explode from excitement. Kresean was right. This was the only way to write a ballad. Dayn would walk side by side with Kresean. Dayn would be there when the blood was spilled, when the danger ran high, when the victory was gained.
For the rest of the day, Kresean recounted tales from the Chaos War. By that night Dayn’s admiration for Kresean had grown a hundredfold.
Two days later Dayn and Kresean rode over the crest of a hill and looked down at their destination. Feergu was a misty little hamlet nestled in a valley. Behind the town, the mountains rose tall, disappearing into the ever- present fog. Dayn felt trapped, hemmed in by those rocky giants. He wondered why the villagers had decided to settle here in the first place.
The town was a small place by the side of a swiftly flowing mountain river. It didn’t even have a central square. There was just a smattering of stone and wood houses.
“Let me do the talking,” Kresean said. “I’ve already spoken to the man they sent out looking for help. His name’s Chandael. He was the first to tell me about the reward.”
“Reward?” Dayn’s brows furrowed. “What reward?”
“They’ve promised a reward to whoever kills the dragon,” Kresean said.
“You didn’t tell me we came to collect a reward.”
Kresean clapped a hand on Dayn’s back. “You’re a crusader, all right, lad. Look at it this way. I know how much you love to sing. You’d do it for free, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t, do you?”
“No,” the bard had to admit.
“You don’t have to feel like a thief, just because you earn your living. These people want to give us something. It’s rude to turn it down. If you did someone a favor and they wanted you to stay for dinner, you wouldn’t refuse just because you’d have done it for free, would you? No. You accept their hospitality. Besides, we’ve got expenses to pay for. A little reward never hurts.”
“Well, I guess. I just thought-”
“There are practical sides to everything, lad,” Kresean said. “If I make a name for myself, someday I’d like to get a job as a captain of the watch or a councilman in a small city. I like to help people out, but I’ve got to take care of myself as well.”
Dayn relaxed. “You’re right. Of course. Sorry.” He fiddled with his reins.
“Think nothing of it, lad. Your heart’s in the right place. No mistake about that. That’s all that really matters.”
The two riders were noticed quickly as they road into the tiny town. The first few people they saw were quick to duck back into their houses, but soon the bolder citizens stood watching them from doorways. The glum-faced citizens watched the two men as they rode along the main trail that meandered through the cluster of houses.
“Excuse me!” a man shouted from a distance. “What’s your business here?”
Kresean turned in his saddle to face the middle-aged villager who spoke to them.
“Good, sir.” Kresean delivered one of his magnanimous smiles and gracefully slid from his horse. “I spoke with a friend of yours, Chandael. He said you are in need of a swordsman.”
A short, nervous smile grew on the big man’s face. “You’ve come to help then?”
“Aye, that I have.”
The man sighed in relief. Soon twenty people gathered around, patting Kresean on the back and shaking his hand.
“Chandael’s still gone looking for help,” the big man said. “We didn’t know if he had found anyone.”
“Well, he found me. Sir Kresean Myrk Saxus at your service.”
Dayn blinked. Sir Kresean? He wasn’t a Knight.
Kresean’s smile faded into a serious look. “The drag-on-has anyone seen it again?”
“No, sir,” the man admitted. “No one has seen it yet, but we’ve followed its tracks, and the way it takes apart a sheep is a terrible thing to see.”
The villagers nodded their heads.
“We’ve gone out looking for it but only in large groups. It hasn’t shown its face. We thought one man might succeed where many would fail. I would try it myself, of course, but I haven’t even got a sword.”
“Of course,” Kresean said, careful not to hurt the man’s feelings. “No one expects you to slay a dragon anymore than you’d expect a soldier to know how to plant a field.”
The man nodded and seemed to feel better.
“More animals were lost again this week. Soon we shall all be forced to seek our livelihoods elsewhere. Our poor village barely has enough trade to survive as it is.
And with poor Kindy’s loss. . We fear more for the safety of our children with every day that passes.” The man’s gaze drifted to the ground.
“Do you think you can help us?” A woman broke from the throng and headed for Kresean. He turned to her and took her hand in his.
“What is your name, good woman?” he asked.
“Cessa. I have two daughters. I’m afraid to send them to herd the sheep. Yet if no one is there to watch them, we might lose the entire flock.”
Kresean patted her hand. “Cessa, tomorrow at first light my comrade and I will find this rascal and liberate him of his head. I shall bring it back as proof, and you can do with it as you see fit.”
A flicker of a smile crossed the woman’s face, and a murmur went through the crowd.
“Thank you, kind sir. Thank you. The gods must have sent you.”
They were given a room that night in Chandael’s loft, which doubled as an inn for what travelers managed to find themselves in Feergu. Dayn couldn’t sleep, but Kresean’s light snores assured him that everything was going to be all right. He meant to ask the warrior about calling himself a Knight. Probably that was another practical necessity. The man was everything Dayn could’ve asked for in a hero. The bard finally drifted off to sleep, dreaming of shining armies and huge banquet halls in which to sing his ballad.
The next day Dayn and Kresean bade goodby to the villagers and rode west toward the dragon’s lair. Heavy
