turn back.
The road he followed was little more than a narrow trail at this point, but it was not seriously overgrown; Garth wondered what traffic it bore that kept down the weeds and grasses. He had been told that no outsiders dared venture into Orgul and he decided that the Orgulians themselves must be responsible. This implied that they still conducted a minimum of trade with the outside world, which did not quite accord with the stories Garth had heard. The people of Orgul had been described to him as a dwindling handful of humans who lived constantly in hiding and in perpetual fear of the monster that ruled their land.
Obviously, if this valley was Orgul, all the stories were greatly exaggerated.
The exact details were immaterial, however. He had come to dispose of the dragon once and for all, regardless of the extent of the damage it caused. A single unnecessary death was enough to justify his task.
It struck him as odd that the Forgotten King should allow him to risk his life in such an altruistic venture-if altruistic it actually were. He grew more certain that the old man had some ulterior motive, some subtle and selfish reason for sending Garth off on this journey.
His thoughts were interrupted by a growl from his beast; he glanced down at the creature's flattened ears, then at the road ahead.
A figure was emerging from one side of the forest and waving desperately at him. Whoever this person was, he evidently wanted the overman to stop. Garth spoke a word to his mount, and the warbeast came to a smooth halt a pace or two away from the man.
The overman glared down at the human. He was aware that his appearance, particularly when mounted upon Koros, was impressive and even intimidating; he made good use of that fact at times.
The man hesitated, gazing up at the huge, dark form of the overman. He had heard of overmen, but had never seen one before. Descriptions had not done them justice, and he was certain of Garth's species only because he knew of no other large humanoid beings.
Koros he could not place at all; he simply stared.
Two pairs of inhuman eyes stared back, one set golden and catlike, one red as blood and whiteless, but otherwise almost human.
He himself stood a little over five feet tall and was thin; the overman, he judged, was nearly seven feet in height, were he to stand on his own booted feet. He was not standing, of course, but was seated atop an immense and frightening animal, black as the heart of a cave and resembling an oddly proportioned, long-legged panther.
The man had never seen, nor heard of, a panther eighteen feet long and five feet high at the shoulder. The warbeast looked down at him, and he was not accustomed to having animals look down at him. Its rider, noseless, dark-skinned, blackhaired, and beardless, towered above him as if he were no more than a crawling infant. Still, he finally managed to gather himself together sufficiently to stammer out his message in the face of these awesome intruders.
'Turn back, my lord! Do not venture further, I beseech you!'
Garth stared down a moment longer; then, without moving, he demanded, 'Why not?'
Momentarily cowed still further by Garth's bass rumble of a voice, the man had some difficulty in continuing, but at last got out, 'The dragon, my lord! The dragon has once more awakened, after a month's sleep, and is very hungry! I fear that this time the entire valley is doomed!'
After a brief pause, intended for dramatic effect, Garth asked, 'This is Orgul, then?' He wondered about the mention of a month's sleep; could that account for the valley's green richness? No, he decided, it could not. He had ridden through parts of Eramma that were not yet recovered from mere human battles after a year's respite; how, then, could the devastation caused by a dragon vanish in a mere month?
'Yes, my lord,' the man said, 'this is the accursed valley of Orgul, home of the great dragon.'
'I have come to kill this troublesome beast,' Garth remarked casually.
'Oh, my lord, it cannot be done! His hide is like steel, his fangs like swords, his talons like scythes! He can outfly a hawk, and his breath is flame hotter than any forge!'
Garth saw that the man was almost trembling, but could not guess at the reason. He supposed that it might be fear of the dragon, or fear of Koros, or fear of himself, or some other emotion entirely. Even after living among them for three years, he still did not fully understand humans and knew that he did not.
'You think to frighten me, little man,' he replied. 'Know, though, that I am Garth, Prince of Ordunin, Lord of the Overmen of the Northern Waste. No beast lives that might defeat me.' This was not exactly true, he knew; he would not care to tackle a hungry warbeast, and a dragon might also prove too much for him. Still, a little boasting was expected from a warrior. His statement was not quite an outright lie; had he kept the Sword of Bheleu and allowed himself to become the pawn of the god of destruction, he could easily have butchered any dragon that might exist.
He did not have the magic sword, but only an ordinary broadsword of good steel; even so, he thought he would be able to deal with the monster.
The man tried again, saying, 'Please, my lord, turn back; the dragon is no ordinary beast!'
He was clearly desperate, and Garth hid some small surprise. Why, he wondered, was this fellow so concerned? Even if he was completely convinced that the dragon would kill both overman and warbeast, why should that upset him so? He had given his warning, done what he could to prevent a catastrophe; why should he be so distressed at Garth's determination? In Garth's experience, humans did not worry much about what befell overmen.
'Do you fear that I shall enrage the dragon?' he asked. 'Is that why you seek to turn me aside?'
'No, no, my lord, I am concerned only for your own safety! Other heroes have come, and all have died beneath the dragon's flames and claws.'
Garth shook his head slightly, mentally dismissing the man's actions as incomprehensible. 'Stand aside, little man,' he said, 'lest Koros trample you.' He signaled to the warbeast and rode on, ignoring the continuing protests and warnings that the man shouted after him.
It was not much later, and the sun was still low in the east, when Garth rode into the village that clustered about the temple spire he had seen from the slope. The shrine itself was an open pavilion, ringed with pillars that supported its spiraling cone of a roof; it faced onto a small plaza, from which five roads led off in various directions. A handful of small, tidy, thatchroofed cottages stood on each of the roads, and a larger structure that might have been an inn, with a roof of red tile, occupied one corner.
The plaza was paved with tessellated stone, and a small fountain played in its center. As Garth's warbeast neared the pavement, a breeze tinkled its way through miniature bells that hung from the eaves of the temple, joining the hiss and splash of the fountain and the soft steps of sandaled feet.
The villagers stopped and stared at Garth's approach, and the footsteps ceased. Then someone turned and ran for the inn, and the streets cleared almost instantly.
Garth found himself alone in the center of the square, looking about at the five roads with no idea which one he should take. It was time, he decided, to ask for directions. Getting himself and his beast a meal wouldn't be a mistake, either, he thought. Koros was already drinking from the fountain, which reminded Garth that he, too, was thirsty.
He dismounted and stepped up to the fountain, where he filled his hands with water and drank.
A sound behind him caught his attention; he let the rest of the water drop and whirled, his hand falling automatically to the hilt of his sword.
The door of the inn had opened again, and several people were emerging. A white-haired man stepped forward from the group and addressed him.
'Greetings, my lord overman!'
'Greetings, man.' This human, Garth thought, unlike the one he had met on the road to the village, at least had the grace to speak politely.
'My I ask, my lord, what brings you to our humble village?' The man's manner was almost fawning.
'I have come to slay your dragon, to save you from its depredations,' Garth replied, making an effort to sound casual.
The spokesman hesitated, then said, 'My lord, do not think us ungrateful, but we ask that you turn back. We do not wish to see another great man...ah, I mean, another great warrior such as yourself die fighting the monster. Too many have perished already.'
