Steven George the DragonThe Unwinnable War
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GUARDS ROUSED STEVEN with a boot in his ribs. He lay in dirty straw and the guards were shouting at him to get up and be gone. The innkeeper of the Inn of the Lost Soul was standing behind the guards querulously complaining of the vagrant tramp in his stable.
“His master rode off early this morning complaining that the worthless page could fend for himself,” said the innkeeper. “He still owes a gold coin for lodging last night.”
“Where is your purse, fellow,” barked one of the guards. He snatched the little bag from around Steven’s neck and poured the contents out into his palm. “Nah!” exclaimed the guard. “Nothing but scraps of herbs.” He disdainfully tossed the last bits of the wisewoman’s herbs into the stall and pulled Steven to his feet. Another guard grabbed Steven’s pack and staff and pushed him out of the stall.
“What about the donkey?” the innkeeper asked. “I won’t keep feeding a worthless beast.” A guard dropped a lead rope into Steven’s hand and in moments Steven found himself in the street holding a lead rope, his pack and staff. “And don’t come back!” exclaimed the innkeeper as he slammed the door of the stable.
Steven stumbled after the guards who continued to push him toward the city gates. At the gate, they pushed him out and yelled, “Don’t come back to Byzatica, either,” said the guard.
“Wait a minute,” called another guard. Steven, bewildered over what was happening, halted and looked around. The guard held Steven’s chin in a gauntleted hand and examined Steven’s hat. “This vagabond has served the king,” he said to his companion.” The other guard stepped forward.
“How did you earn this emblem on your hat?” he demanded.
“I served a company of knights on the road to Zannopolis,” Steven said. “They told me this would guarantee me safe passage through Byzatica.”
“And so it should have,” said the guard. “How did you come to be in the stable of that unscrupulous innkeeper?”
“I was preparing to leave in the morning. Yesterday I purchased a horse from Ibin Arriaga. I am a dragonslayer and journey to find the dragon along the river to the south.”
“You purchased a horse and got a donkey,” said the guard. “You have no money and no weapons. You were so drunk that you’ve been robbed and now you must set out on your own with nothing. Who is this Ibin Arriaga?”
“He is a thief,” said Steven. “Not only of my goods, but of many wealthy homes in the city. If he follows my directions, he will ride to Zannopolis and from there continue with the knights into the war.”
“And what has he taken besides your horse?” one of the guards asked. Steven set his pack down and examined its contents. “Three gold coins and seven silver,” Steven said. “My knife, my sword, and my bow.” He described the knife, sword, bow, and horse to the guards who nodded.
“We’ll send out word that he is to be apprehended. Now as to your journey,” said the guard who had spotted the service medal on Steven’s hat. The guards consulted with each other and after a bit one reached in a purse and gave Steven five silver coins. The other handed him a small knife, plain and not half so glorious as the knife the tinker had engraved. “Here are five silver coins from the king for your service. And here is a knife. Nothing like what you have described, but you can make a bow as you travel. We’ve heard of a dragon in the southlands, but it has never ventured this far north. This is all we have to see you onto the road. Follow the southward caravan route and you should be all right. Safe travels, Dragonslayer.” With that they turned their backs on Steven and returned to the city.
Steven stood in the middle of the road thinking. 490,??? ... No. 500,??? ... He went across a river and across a lake and by wagon. How long had he been in Byzatica?
Steven George the Dragonslayer was lost.
With his head hanging, Steven shuffled off aimlessly on the southern road toward Tasmyrica.
He had no bow to hunt with, no powerful knife, no precious herbs, no sword, and no horse. Only the talisman given him by the knight that he wore on his ridiculous hat had saved him further harm at the hands of the guards. And he had mysteriously acquired a donkey—all this because he had ignored the advice of the tinker and had told a story about the knife instead of his hat. How would he ever fulfill his quest in this miserable state? He walked without counting his steps, no longer caring how far he was from home, for he knew now that he would never return.
Steven walked long into the night with the mournful donkey shuffling along behind him. At last he stopped beside a stream and camped, turning the donkey loose and not bothering to build a fire. His dreams were troubled by how easily he had been deceived and he sympathized with poor Jasper. Steven allowed himself his first smile when he thought of the thief, riding his fine horse, with the fine sword and knife at his side, joining the long line of knights headed north from Zannopolis as the merchant turned and headed back to the south along the western edge of the mountains. Perhaps the knights would find some use for Ibin Arriaga in their service.
With this encouraging thought, Steven woke to find that the donkey had not wandered away from him, but dozed peacefully standing nearby. Steven set about finding a sturdy piece of wood to carve down and make a bow. He set a small fish trap in the stream and built a fire. As he worked on his bow and new arrows, the smell of fish cooking in clay began to rise from his fire. He ate that night of the hot fishy flesh. He scrubbed the donkey with reeds from the stream until its coat shone like the knights’ chargers. The donkey dozed lazily under Steven’s ministrations and turned to nuzzle him often as he was cleaned and cared for.
The thief had left little to Steven. The pack still contained his bedroll and a scrap of oilcloth that had once held a sandwich from his sweetheart. There was a pair of dry socks that he gladly changed to while he washed his dirty ones. It was peaceful to engage in such domestic activities, and for some time, Steven thought he would simply stay in this spot. In the morning, however, the urge to move on overcame him and he returned to the southward road.
Over the next few days, Steven met other travelers, a merchant caravan, and a band of soldiers. He gathered herbs by the side of the road, no longer having the special mixture the wise woman had given him. He traded services for coins or food and hunted, but he carefully avoided the eyes of those he met. His skills with a cookpot soon proved most saleable. He acquired one of his own from another traveling tinker, but when he attempted to engage the tinker with questions about Armand Hamar, he was dismissed with a wave of a hand. “Faery stories and poppycock,” was all the tinker would say.
A SMALL MOUNTAIN OF A MAN towered over Steven as he shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears. His hat shook wildly back and forth with each movement and Steven put both hands on it to steady his head. In one ham-fisted hand, the tinker held a cast iron frying pan. “Well?” demanded the tinker. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Steven pointed a shaky finger at the tinker’s cart and donkey now coming into focus. “I thought it was a dragon,” he said feebly. For a moment the man...
PERHAPS HE SHOULD have paid the tinker for his story with one of his own right away and set off at a more brisk pace to put steps behind him, Steven thought; but the tinker was such good company and Steven had so many questions that it was difficult to part. Steven spent the entire walk the next day asking for more details. While others he had met confessed to have heard of a dragon, the tinker was the first who actually knew a story about one and may have even seen the impossible pot at some...
CAMP WAS COLD AND EMPTY when Steven awoke in the morning. There was no sign of the tinker, his cart, or his donkey. The market flags were gone and what people Steven saw were distant even when he was near them. He ate sparingly of the food he had been given for travel at the manor the evening before, shouldered his pack, and started up the long road ahead. Steven soon settled into his long one hundred steps per minute stride and was amazed that his time with the tinker had allowed him to...
HEAVY WITH THE FEAST the trader had ordered spread before them, Steven had difficulty focusing on what was being said. There had been considerably more ale served than Steven was used to. Ibin once again convinced Steven that in order to establish their position in the inn, they should arrive as a gentleman and his page. Since Ibin knew more about the conduct of civil affairs than Steven, he would be the gentleman, and Steven would be his page and confidante. As the gentleman’s page, it was...
AS THE SUN ROSE over the eastern horizon, the donkey began to bray a complaint of hunger and Steven awoke to find Madame Selah Welinska wrapped in his arms beside the dying embers of last night’s fire. She stretched luxuriously, turned her face toward him, and smiled, then snuggled back down into his arms. He gently extracted himself from her embrace and went to tend the braying donkey. When he reached the animal, he discovered that it was tethered just out of reach of a tasty batch of...
VERY LATE THE NEXT MORNING, Xandros the donkey gave up standing between the staves of the cart waiting to be harnessed and wandered off to graze on the tufts of weed that grew near the quiet campsite. Soft moans issued from beneath the draped canopy tent but they did not seem to indicate pain. It was not, in fact, until the next day that they moved their campsite. Over the next several days, they moved the campsite less frequently and shorter distances. As the traveling trio progressed...
STEVEN CONTINUED on his journey in the morning with a light heart, a ridiculous hat, and sore feet that were slowing his normal walking pace. He changed socks in the morning, washed out his first pair, and hung them from his pack to dry. He discovered that he had blisters from the previous day and they made walking painful. He had traveled only 11,256 steps that day when the blisters got the better of him and he was forced to make camp to tend to his feet. He used a pinch of the wise woman’s...
BY THE FIRST LIGHT OF DAWN, Steven was up with his bedroll packed and his staff in his hand. Jasper arose sleepily and slowly. “Do we have to leave already?” he said plaintively. “It’s hardly morning.” “You don’t have to leave, my friend,” said Steven, “but I want to be on the road and searching for the dragon.” “Can you wait while I get ready?” Jasper asked. Reluctantly, Steven agreed, but couldn’t help pacing back and forth in impatience. 103,320. 103,321. Steven had added three hundred...
DIRECTIONS WERE easy to come by, but difficult to follow. Each person Jasper took Steven to see had an idea of where the road south to the dragon lay. “Well, now,” said one grizzled old farmer, pointing, “you want to follow the main road out thet way. You don’t want to follow any of the other roads because they don’t lead anywhere. Thet one, for example, just goes out to Maggar’s place and it don’t go no farther. Thet one over thar, it just go to ... well, I don’t rightly know. En’t nobody...
LEANING AGAINST A TREE at the top of a rise, Steven surveyed the land before him looking for a suitable place to camp. The knights had stopped to rest the horses in the middle of the afternoon, but Steven kept running ahead to prepare their evening camp. Below him a small river crossed the road and it appeared to be a frequent campsite for travelers along this way. It would certainly be appropriate for the knights. Steven looked back the way he had come and saw the knights in the distance...
UNDER THE SPELL of Ibin Arriaga, Steven was soon running all manner of errands throughout the great house. After the fire was built and drink was served, there was food to prepare and a tub of water to bring for Ibin to soak his ankle in. Steven gathered a pillow from the master’s bedroom for Ibin’s back and a silver chalice from the cabinet in the eating room for Ibin to drink from. Steven marveled at the size of the house. It seemed most of his village could have lived in its many...
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, the little woodcutter and his tall wife were seated at the table waiting when Steven woke up. He was served a hot mash for breakfast and ate heartily. When he had finished, his dish sat empty at his place. It was obvious that the couple had no intentions of moving from the table until Steven had told his story. “Don’t we need to work this morning?” Steven asked. “I’ll happily help you chop wood.” “Oh no,” said Upik. “There is no reason to chop wood today.” “We have...
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NovelsWhen George got home from the party, he took a nice hot shower. He wore his Loretta Lynn wig, but had a Green Bay Packer football helmet on also. He didn't want to lose the curls. The top of his helmet was growing grass, like a chia pet. Also, it had Bullwinkle antlers. It's not everyday that one sees a person with a snorkel and helmet taking a shower. It was either grass or some good marijuana. When he came out he was red as a lobster and Pamela was naked, sitting on the toilet. She looked at...
AnalHi, my name is Anna, or Annie. I’m going to tell you a story about when I was younger up until the present. Let me first start by telling you a bit about myself. I am 5’5, 113 pounds and have dark hair that meets just above my perfect butt. I have long legs that I like to keep shaved and I’m a C cup in bras. My eyes are dark brown and my hair is very curly, almost like tight curls. I was never into dating are chasing after boys. It wasn’t ever my style. If I wanted something I get it, end of...
Hi, my name is Anna, or Annie. I’m going to tell you a story about when I was younger up until the present. Let me first start by telling you a bit about myself. I am 5’5, 113 pounds and have dark hair that meets just above my perfect butt. I have long legs that I like to keep shaved and I’m a C cup in bras. My eyes are dark brown and my hair is very curly, almost like tight curls. I was never into dating are chasing after boys. It wasn’t ever my style. If I wanted something I get it, end of...
ReluctancePrologue: George Thomas was feeling a bit dejected and he wasn’t exactly sure why he felt that way, this trip was going to make him a load of money. He could only conclude that the prospect of seven to ten days in Dayton, Ohio, where he didn’t know a single person, must be the reason for his feeling a little down. George’s gloomy demeanor was soon to brighten considerably, as he was about to embark on the wildest, most exciting week of his life. He would soon learn that Dayton was not a town...
Chapter X George woke up full of welts, and itching all over. His back and neck were stiff from sleeping hunched over. He scrunched up his face, and could feel the dried salt on his cheeks. He rubbed his chin and cheeks with his right hand as he turned his left arm toward the light filtering through the front window, and peered at his watch. It said 3:15. He got up and walked into the house as he tipped the bottle up and chugged his now warm beer. He set the empty bottle on the kitchen...
NovelsGeorge Smart was just your average seventeen year old. He was kind of quirky and a virgin. He was looking to lose his virginity, but hadn't really had any offers. George had a lot to learn and needed somebody patient to show him the ropes. George's parents had asked their good friend Pamela to stay with them for a week. Pamela was their divorced friend. She needed a little time away from her stressful job. G (George) spent a fair amount of time nursing his remaining testicle. While...
First Time