The Name of the Wind

I breathed a huge sigh of relief and sat down to watch as the draccus circled the fire. It gushed out a billow of blue flame, then another, then turned and rolled in the fire, wriggling and crushing it into the dirt.

Once the fire was flattened, the draccus began to follow the same pattern as before. It sought out the scattered pieces of the fire, rolled in them until they were extinguished, then ate the wood. I could almost imagine each new stick and stump it swallowed forcing the denner resin deeper into its gizzard, mixing it around, breaking it up, forcing it to dissolve.

A quarter-hour passed as I watched it complete its circuit of the fire. I’d hoped it would have showed the effects of the resin by now. By my best guess, it had eaten six times a lethal dose. It should rush quickly past the initial stages of euphoria and mania. Then would follow delirium, paralysis, coma, and death. By all my calculations it should be over within an hour, hopefully sooner.

I felt a pang of regret as I watched it go about the business of crushing out the scattered fires. It was a magnificent animal. I hated to kill it even more than I hated to waste upwards of sixty talents worth of ophalum. But there was no denying what would happen if events were left to run their course. I didn’t want the deaths of innocents on my conscience.

Soon it stopped eating. It merely rolled on the scattered branches, extinguishing them. It was moving more vigorously now, a sign that the denner was beginning to take effect. It started to grunt, low and deep. Grunt. Grunt. A wash of blue fire. Roll. Grunt. Roll.

Finally there was nothing left but the bed of glimmering coals. As before, the draccus positioned itself on top of them and laid down, extinguishing all the light on the top of the hill.

It lay there quietly for a moment. Then grunted again. Grunt. Grunt. Wash of fire. It wriggled its belly farther into the coals, almost like it was fidgeting. If this was the onset of mania, it was coming too slowly for my liking. I’d hoped that it would be well on its way to delirium by now. Had I underestimated the dosage?

As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, I realized there was another source of light. At first I thought the clouds had blown over, and the moon was peering in from the horizon. But when I turned away from the draccus to look behind me, I saw the truth.

Off to the southwest, barely two miles away, Trebon was full of firelight. Not just dim candlelight from windows, there were tall flames leaping everywhere. For a moment I thought the city was ablaze.

Then I realized what was happening: the harvest festival. There was a tall bonfire in the middle of town, and smaller ones outside the houses where people would be giving cider to the weary workers. They would drink and throw their shamble-men into the fires. Dummies made of wheat sheaves, of barley shocks, of straw, of chaff. Dummies built to flare up bright and sudden, a ritual to celebrate the end of the year, something that was supposed to keep demons away.

Behind me I heard the draccus grunt. I looked down at it. Just as I had been, it was facing away from Trebon, toward the dark cliffs to the north.

I am not a religious person, but I will admit that I prayed then. I prayed earnestly to Tehlu and all his angels, asking for the draccus to die, just slide quietly asleep and pass on without turning around to see the city’s fires.

I waited for several long minutes. At first I thought the draccus was asleep, but as my eyes sharpened I could see its head weaving steadily back and forth, back and forth. As my eyes grew more accustomed to the dark, the fires of Trebon seemed to grow brighter. It had been half an hour since it had eaten the resin. Why wasn’t it dead yet?

I wanted to throw down the rest of the resin, but I didn’t dare. If the draccus turned toward me, it would be facing south, toward the town. Even if I threw the sack of resin directly in front of it, it might turn around to resettle itself on the fire. Perhaps if—

The draccus roared then, deep and powerful as before. I had no doubt they heard it in Trebon. I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that they had heard it in Imre. I glanced at Denna. She shifted in her sleep but didn’t wake.

The draccus bounded off the bed of coals, looking for all the world like a frisking puppy. The coals still glimmered in places, giving me enough light to see the great beast roll around, flip. Bite at the air. Turn ...

“No,” I said. “No no no.”

It looked out toward Trebon. I could see the leaping flames of the town’s fires reflected in its huge eyes. It breathed another gout of blue fire in a high arc. The same gesture it had made before: a greeting or a challenge.

Then it was running, tearing down the hillside with demented abandon. I heard it crashing and snapping through the trees. Another roar.

I thumbed on my sympathy lamp and went to Denna, shaking her roughly “Denna. Denna! You have to get up!”

She barely stirred.

I lifted her eyelid and checked her pupils. They showed none of their earlier sluggishness and shrank quickly in response to the light. That meant the denner resin had finally worked its way out of her system. This was simple exhaustion, nothing else. Just to be sure I lifted both lids and brought the light back around again.

Yes. Her pupils were fine. She was fine. As if to confirm my opinion, Denna scowled fiercely and squirmed away from the light, muttering something indistinct and decidedly unladylike. I couldn’t make out all of it, but the words “whoremonger” and “soddoff” were used more than once.

I scooped her up, blankets and all, and carefully made my way down to the ground. I bundled her up again between the arch of the greystones. She seemed to rouse herself slightly as I jostled her around. “Denna?”

“Moteth?” she muttered around a mouthful of sleep, her eyes barely moving under her lids.

“Denna! The draccus is going down to Trebon! I have to ...”

I stopped. Partly because it was obvious she had dropped back into unconsciousness, but also because I wasn’t entirely sure what it was I had to do.

I had to do something. Normally the draccus would avoid a town, but drug-crazed and manic, I had no idea what its reaction to the harvest fires would be. If it rampaged through the town it would be my fault. I had to do something.

I dashed to the top of the greystone, grabbed both bags, and came back down. I upended the travelsack, emptying everything onto the ground. I grabbed the crossbow bolts, wrapped them in my torn shirt, and stuffed them into my travelsack. I threw in the hard iron scale too, then stuffed the bottle of brand into the oilskin sack for padding and put that in my travelsack as well.

My mouth was dry, so I took a quick swallow of water from the water-skin, recapped it, and left it for Denna. She would be terribly thirsty when she woke up.

I slung the travelsack over my shoulder and cinched it tight across my back. Then I thumbed on my sympathy lamp, picked up the hatchet, and began to run.

I had a dragon to kill.

I ran madly through the woods, the light from my sympathy lamp bobbing wildly, revealing obstacles ahead of me bare moments before I was on top of them. Small wonder that I fell, tumbling down the hill, ass over teakettle. When I got up I easily found my lamp, but I abandoned the hatchet, knowing deep in my heart that it wouldn’t be of any use against the draccus.

I fell twice more before I made it to the road, then I tucked my head like a sprinter and ran toward the distant light of the city. I knew the draccus could move faster than me, but I hoped it would be slowed by the trees, or disoriented. If I made it to the town first I could warn them, get them ready....

But as the road emerged from the trees, I could see the fires were brighter, wilder. Houses were burning. I could hear the draccus’ near-constant bellowing punctuated by shouting and high-pitched screams.

I slowed to a trot as I came into town, catching my breath. Then I scampered up the side of a house to one of the few two-story rooftops so I could see what was really happening.

In the town square the bonfire had been scattered everywhere. Several nearby houses and shops were staved in like rotten barrels, most of them burning fitfully Fire flickered on the wooden shingles of a handful of roofs. If not for the evening’s earlier rain, the town would already be ablaze instead of just a few scattered buildings. Still, it was just a matter of time.