July

Issue 34

    When the laughter died, Karlson rocked forward so that all four legs of his chair touched the floor. He leaned over, rubbing the tears from his eyes, unable to erase the smile from his face.

    "What...?" he began before another fit of giggling overcame him. He waved a hand as if to proclaim his good health then pressed a palm to his forehead.

    "What did you say?" Karlson repeated.

    "I said that I've come to kill the dragon." The explosion of the crowd's laughter was no less restrained for hearing it a second time. It was obvious Bryon suspected they would react this way again and again into the wee hours of the evening until they tired of asking him.

    Which was perfectly understandable, of course, seeing as how Bryon was an eight-year-old boy.

    He was dressed as any of them were, in rough clothes that looked to have been made on a farm. His shoes were sturdy leather, worn from the long walk into the secluded town of Dewbury. A belt looped over his shoulder, for it never would have fit his waist; a nondescript pommel stuck out of the scabbard that almost scraped the floor. Upon his head was a footman's helmet, well padded so that it didn't slip down over his eyes.

    "Who sent you, boy?" Karlson asked as he tried to drown some of his mirth with ale.

    "Nobody sent me," he replied. "I came to kill the dragon."

    "Please," Karlson said, barely heard over the renewed ruckus, "don't say it again. My sides can't take it." He lifted the mug and drained it in three big gulps. When he slammed it down on the table, he seemed contrarily more sober.

    “Go home, boy,” he said without ungluing his eyes from Bryon’s. “This is a dangerous place you’re in.”

    Bryon lifted the pouch from his belt and tossed it onto the table. It jingled with the unmistakable sound of imprisoned coins.

    “I brought the fee,” said Bryon. Quite suddenly the laughter stopped. The thirty or so people assembled in the tavern stared down at the table top. Karlson reached out his hand and undid the bag's laces as he tipped it up. Twenty pieces of silver tumbled out.

    "So, when do I get to kill the dragon?" Bryon asked.