One: Village

"With the wizard dead, that dragon can come down and burn us out of house and home!" Old Faldor's outburst had lost much of its shock and impact after having been repeated every single night for a week. His hand pounded the table for punctuation. His worn, leathery face held sparkling eyes and a down turned mouth daring anyone to contradict him. The people gathered around remained silent to show their support for his opinion.

Everyone, it seemed, in the small village had crowded the inn's common room to debate and talk since the wizard's death, and tonight was no exception. Besides Old Faldor, the mayor and his wife were there, and the innkeeper. A host of regulars made up the audience while the principles, the village's leading citizens, debated. Or argued. The rest of the crowd listened from nooks and crannies or where ever they could fit. The inn's common room was not large, but was sturdy and constructed from thick logs, which created a comfortable, enclosing atmosphere. A roaring fire burned in the huge fireplace, providing both a hearth for cooking and warmth for the people in the room. The inn was not a large building, and few guests from outside the village ever came to stay for long. It served more as a meeting hall and gathering place, but rarely for so many at once. The village was a small, isolated settlement nestled between two mountain ranges near the southern end of a large realm, and as such saw few outsiders. It had a small cluster of buildings in its center, the largest of which was the inn, and farms outspread around it. Off to one side was a short, squat stone tower where the town's wizard and his apprentice made their home. That domicile, and more importantly its inhabitants, was what gave the village a week of furious debate. The wizard had unexpectedly died from a tragic accident, leaving his apprentice behind. Ordinarily, that would have been the way of things, the turning of the seasons and years, but, as the debated had proven, the wizard was responsible for keeping the dragon under control, and the apprentice was just that, an apprentice nowhere near filling his master's shoes.

The mayor was an elderly man, who had served with Faldor in the war. He had convinced, although that hadn't taken much, Faldor to come to the sleepy village after they both retired from the army. The mayor had short, military cut steel-gray hair and sharp blue eyes. Some had once said he should have been an officer instead of a foot soldier. "Still and all, the law is clear. Upon the death of the master, the apprentice gets the whole kit and caboodle if there's no will. And the old wizard was too wrapped up in whatever it was he was doing to ever bother with one." He folded his hands in his lap as if to bring closure to the point. Things were rarely simple, of course, and the fact that the apprentice stood to automatically become the new town wizard through an ancient law of the land was something all of them were trying to think through.

A long silence dragged the flow of the talk for a moment. The mayor's wife, an elderly woman whose health was beginning to fail, coughed and remarked, "Who knew he would die like that?" No one, since she was repeating the obvious.

Old Faldor almost spat. "Worthless fool, who'd have thought he'd lived as long as he lived!" In his haste to spit out something angry, he hadn't thought too much about which words to string together. They seemed to understand his point, though.

"The thing is," a farmer named Stokk put in, "who is going to defend us from the dragon? To hear that lass of Bando's," and he was the town's smith and one of the few not present, "tell it, he's next to worthless, and no match for a full-strength dragon."

The mayor's wife said to no one in particular: "She should know, if anyone. I always kind of hoped those two young people would get married. There's so few young people in the village after the war. Clek," which was the mayor's given name, "and me never got around to having young ones."

The object hanging suspended in the center of debate was the apprentice, named Gan. The wizard had acquired him at a very early age, barely able to walk, after a mysterious journey. The wizard had returned from his trip to the town with a toddler, and started raising him as his apprentice as if nothing unusual was going on. Eventually, people just started accepting it.

Gan sat in the wizard's tower -- his tower, he reminded himself -- and stared at the fire. It had become a sort of ritual for him, going to bed, staring at the shadow of an old, dead willow tree projected on the wall by the moon, and then finally fixing some warm milk and sitting up in his master's -- his -- huge chair by the fireplace, until he finally fell asleep. He was the apprentice -- master, now, at least by a technicality of law if not by popular support -- in the town, trying to recover from the loss of his mentor and the subsequent lack of support from the town as a whole. He wasn't that young. He was in his mid twenties, with long black hair and a lean build. He had never developed strong muscles like most of the lads, and men, who worked out in the fields or at the forge, but he wasn't as weak as rumor held him up to be -- no one could be and wield magic. Of course, he realized he was probably not the best person to objectively sum up his shortcomings. On reflection, he had a whole staff of folks who seemed to handle that full-time for him.

Any way he looked at it, it all came down to the dragon. Yes, the dragon, the worm responsible for terrorizing the village for as far back as anyone could remember. Once, he eaten young women and burned fields. After having taken residence on the mountain, his initial outburst of activity cooled off. He had snacked on the occasional young lady, but nothing too drastic. But, no one wanted to come live in the village, young people ran off to the city every chance they got, and the population waned. It was said that the town was about to fold completely when the wizard, then young and brash, came and dealt with the dragon. And stayed in the village. After that, things got better, at least until the war had swept the land.

His master had derived his considerable reputation by being the one who put a spell on the dragon to keep it staying up in its cave lair at the top of the mountain instead of snacking down in the middle of the village square. This had happened long before the war, when most of the men had to go off to far lands to fight for the king. It was also sufficient to ensure the master's good reputation and standing in the village in spite of the subsequent onset of oddities and peculiarities. After all, saving a town from the scourge of a first class dragon was more than enough to make up for a wagon load of shortcomings.

It was also sufficient to cast grave doubts on him, Gan the apprentice. Ordinarily, an apprentice who took over from the sudden and tragic death of his master had plenty of time to hone the rest of his skills and grow into the job. Ordinarily, the town was not part of the picturesque view from the mouth of a dragon's lair. Now, they felt they needed a complete wizard, ready to go, not one who would grow into the position over years.

A young woman banged on the tower door. She was a tall, athletic girl who had well toned muscles and the healthy look of someone who was used to vigorous exercise. Her skin was tanned, a warm golden brown. Her brown hair with streaks of highlight was tied back into a braid. Her face was beautiful, without being delicate, with wide lips and strong cheeks. Her eyes were a deep green. She stood a full six feet in height, enough to tower over every woman in the village and most of the men.

She was Alyr, one of the few young people in the village his age. Young people their age, in their twenties, were a rare sight since the war, after which the population of the kingdom had experienced an inexplicable implosion in the number of children conceived and born and was just now recovering. He'd always thought that she was beautiful, and she had never once paid him the slightest bit of attention. His polite attempts at conversation the few times they had been near each other on village occasions were met by equally polite but distant responses, which were broken off as soon as possible. He had never known what to say to her, and he suspected she wouldn't have listened even if he had. He remembered one afternoon very long ago when he was a child when he had gone to the smithy her father ran in the village to get one of his master's horses reshod. Both of them had been very young, and had played a game of marbles while he waited for the work to be done. It was the only memory he really had of her.

She had kept him at arm's length all of their lives. So why was she coming to visit him now? Well, he realized he certainly didn't have anything better to do other than talk to her. He went to the door and opened it, unfortunately in mid-knock. She barely stopped the downward plunge of her balled fist before she made contact with him. Barely. He tried to smile in welcome, a smile she did not return. He motioned for her to come inside, and closed the door behind them, shutting them inside the room. He led her to the fire, and offered her something to drink, but she declined. He did offer, though. She didn't sit down. Gan didn't either. They stood there by the fire. He held his mage's cloak around him, a flimsy shield. She was wearing buckskin under a thick wool cloak lined in fur, and wore a sword strapped to her belt. Her boots came up to the middle of her thighs, and were leather.

Her face, which he had thought so beautiful before, was wrapped up in an angry frown. "You haven't set foot in the village since the funeral." It wasn't a question, and Gan did not really know what to say. It was certainly true, but what was he supposed to do? He felt they owed him -- at least -- a period of ostensible mourning, where he could make his plans for the future if nothing else. Luckily she spared him the trouble of speaking at all. "We're all expecting you to come down and tell us what you plan to do about the dragon." She stared into the fire.

Well, to the point at least. Unfortunately a point he was not particularly prepared to deal with, even had it been raised in a less antagonistic situation. "What I plan to do? I haven't planned anything yet..."

She turned and looked at him directly. She had her arms folded. "I didn't expect you would do anything. But I had to try, just in case you might. Everyone knows that you're just an apprentice, and have no real power."

"I wouldn't go that far." Try? This was trying? His mind had gotten stuck back on that part, and his answer to her was more to just say something than it was well thought out.

"I would. I suggested to the mayor that he send to the Guild Hall up north in the capital for a replacement." She had turned back to the fire, watching it pop and crackle.

"Is he going to?"

"He's been distracted by the dragon problem, but I'm sure he will." This sounded a lot less assertive than before, which to Gan was a good sign. She wasn't quite as sure of herself as she was acting. If being a wizard had taught him anything, it was that acting like you knew what you were doing was about three fifths of it all. His old master's reputation was enhanced by his absentmindedness and distraction, since it looked like he was deep in magical thought. Gan wished for the ability to pull off that type of magic right then, but he had less chance of that than he did with performing real magic.

"The dragon has not stirred from the mountain since before the war, so I think I still have a little time."

"How much? How much longer before it realizes the wizard's spell has expired along with him and it ventures down for a look see?"

"I do not know." That was the truth. His old master -- "the wizard" indeed! -- had never shared any of the particulars about what he had done to the dragon with his student. Any time he had approached the subject, it always turned into some story about how complex the whole procedure was and how the time wasn't right. Then he died all of the sudden! Somewhere in that was an unfairness, but Gan had been to preoccupied to work it out completely.

She was looking right at him. Her green eyes did catch the firelight and sparkle. He wished he hadn't noticed that, and tried to focus on her words. She told him: "Exactly! No one knows. They're all afraid, scared, worried. So why don't you get your power together and drive off or kill this dragon so he won't plague us any longer? So we can sleep at night again."

"You're putting a lot on my shoulders here," he said, trying to manage a reasonable tone, "when I didn't invite this dragon to our mountain. And no one has bothered the dragon in many long years. Why am I expected to have prepared myself to battle him when my master did not?"

"Prepare? You won't act!" She threw up her hands in frustration, her brows tightening together. "Your master was an old fool, and you're a young fool. Neither of you possess the courage or power to do anything."

"You hardly have the right to say that," she barked laughter at him as he spoke those words, "when you haven't exactly done anything either. Why don't you rid us of this foul scourge before you tongue-lash me."

"I'm not a high and mighty sorcerer." She loaded that with sarcasm.

She was beginning to get to him. He had heard her out when she was talking -- albeit somewhat accusingly -- of something important, but this was taking it too far. He was, more or less, the wizard, after all. He let some heat inflame his voice. "You're far from helpless yourself. Your tongue alone would be enough to put any respectable dragon to paid."

That must have been the wrong thing to say, because she turned bright red and looked murder at him. She didn't say anything at all for a few beats, then turned for the door and spat, "If you were a man, I'd challenge you to a sword duel for that!" She showed herself out, slamming the hardwood door as hard as she could.

Gan stood there, wondering how he could have turned that into as big a disaster as it had become. Alyr was never particularly nice to him, but she'd never been all that mean to him either. He had often wished they could get to know one another better, but he had never known how to accomplish it. He replayed the conversation over and over, finally sinking down into the huge chair by the fire and putting his head in his hands. She did have a point. He did not know how to take care of the dragon.

Act. That's what she said. He had to do something. Even if it was wrong, even if it was futile, he had to do something to earn his right to be the wizard. In spite of the way she had treated him, Gan realized that she was right. No one would accept him as long as he had done nothing to assure them of safety and security. He could, of course, leave, but leave his home, the only home he remembered ever having? Leave his inheritance? What would that make him? A quitter? A coward? He had a fanciful thought of him going to another town and trying to pass himself off as a wizard, only to have Alyr show up and tell everyone why he had come there. No! This was where he would make his stand.

After making up his mind, Gan thought that being in the tower of a considerable wizard should afford him more than enough wizardry and magical devices and potions and spells to take care of a dragon. (He did not allow himself to carry this line of thinking out to the end -- if it were possible, his master would have perhaps had already done it.) He prowled around all night in the basement storerooms; his master's -- his -- workroom; his favorite room, the library; and even the musty old closet that had a rusted, dilapidated suit of armor in it. Although the armor was useless, he did find some other interesting items.

He collapsed in the large chair by the fire, not even bothering trying to go to bed, and thought about his treasures. The staff, of course (the center of all the wizardly power). The ring of fire control (which Gan thought would be particularly useful against a fire-breathing monster). The three wands of elements (the fourth had been dropped down a sewer, his master told him once, in a particularly harrowing escape from some long ago predicament, the details of which eluded Gan's memory). The seeds of destruction (exploding beans with a much-too-clever name). And many other things of the like. Some offensive to take the fight to the dragon, some defensive to rob the fight from the dragon, and some like the healing potions just in case nothing else worked. As he drifted off to sleep, he knew he was as ready as he could ever be, and knew he'd better act in the morning to prevent himself from changing his mind.

The next morning, Gan gathered his accouterments and walked the short path into the village square. People looked him over, sometimes long, but no one spoke to him. He wasn't really that surprised, as he had been more of his master's accessory than anything else. All of his life, no one had paid him much more mind than they had his master's hat or staff. He was something that went along with the wizard like Bando's hammer or Stokk's hoe went with the smith or the farmer. But still, being the wizard to him meant at least a neutral nod to acknowledge his existence.

The mayor saw him approach the inn, and did speak. The silence was much better by comparison. "I'm surprised you would have the courage to show you face around here, son, after what you told Alyr." Gan didn't even want to know what distorted version of the story she had related to the village after getting so mad at him. It had to have been filtered somewhat from the real events by the volume of the door slamming yesterday.

He spoke as authoritatively as he could: "Gather everyone around. I have an announcement to make. Gather everyone here." The mayor looked profoundly skeptical. He had, after all, served in the war, like most of the older men in the village, and did not listen much to a young man who hadn't. Still, the potential for theater was high if nothing else, and he did rouse people to come gather in front of the inn and hear him out.

Alyr appeared from out of the main door to the inn. She said nothing, but went over to lean a hip against the inn's porch rail. She folded her arms under her breasts and put on a frown. Not that her face had far to go to manage that. For some reason, he was glad she chose to stand beside him, and for some other reason he got nervous. Talking to people who didn't care was easy, telling this to both them and her was more difficult. He swallowed, trying to get his throat moist enough to talk.

Mostly everyone had gathered in front of the inn, with a few out on the porch itself. They murmured among themselves. Gan stood at the top of the steps to the porch and looked out at all the faces. Some old, some very young. Some few hopeful, plenty more skeptical, some outright hostile.

"I have an announcement." Everyone quieted. "I have gone through my master's things, and have put together enough magic to take care of our dragon problem once and for all! I will go face the dragon and defeat him, or at least drive him off."

The general consensus was shocked disbelief, which faded into an acceptance. He guessed they'd worked it out. At least they'd be rid of a problem either way: if he did succeed, they'd be rid of the dragon; if he didn't, they were in the clear to send for a replacement wizard in good conscience. He had not expected a vote of confidence, but was still a little disappointed that no one gave him any encouragement.

He let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

Two: Mountain

Alyr leaned against the railing on the inn's porch eyeing him. The crowd dissipated as people got on with their daily tasks. Odd how even under the numbing threat of the dragon above them life went on. Cows got milked, clothing got sewn, food got cooked. Even though Gan's stomach was a knot of writhing snakes all eating their own tails, he looked around at all of the people going about their routines. A boy tossed a stick to a dog, a woman whistled while washing clothes and hanging them up, two men were chopping wood.

Pushing off from the rail and coming to stand beside him, her face an unreadable sheet of ice, Alyr said: "Well, I'm certainly coming with you. If you didn't have someone to look out after you, you'd probably wind up polishing the dragon's gold for him." Her left hand was gripping the pommel of her sword, and her right had was flat against the side of her leggings, rubbing up and down slightly. He wondered if she were as nervous as he. Probably not. He noticed a small scratch on the thumb of the hand gripping the sword. He wondered how she had gotten it. He noticed she bit her bottom lip with her teeth, then seemed to realize she was doing it and stopped.

You don't have to be so sarcastic about it, Gan thought but did not say, since the truth hurts enough by itself. He said: "It is much too dangerous for you." All of the sudden, he felt odd -- he had no right to endanger her. The dragon was his problem by inheritance. Why should she die?

She actually laughed. "You're a fine one to talk. I don't think you'd stand much chance against a kitten. At least I can swing a sword! I am going to the College Of Swords this spring for advanced training."

He had tried to keep his cool with the (would be) swordswoman, but she had finally gotten his ire up sufficiently that he ceased to be intimidated by her beauty (carefully disguised by anger) and scorn (not disguised at all). "At least I have a chance to do something! You would be little more than a light snack against a dragon. I do not want to see you die or be hurt."

"Light snack! The dragon wouldn't use you as garnish." She didn't even hear his last sentence.

He didn't recall ever hearing about a dragon using garnish, or having much use in general for fancy meals. "Okay," he said, afraid she would try to shout him down right there on the porch, "look at it this way. You are an accomplished swordswoman, and I am a wizard, so we both have skills which could be used to fight the dragon."

"That's what I said to begin with!" She whirled and walked off. He pondered for a few moments, and tried to find a way to think of it where she hadn't won the argument. He had tried to talk her out of it, but as the old master had told him countless times, the only way to learn to stay on a horse was to fall off of it yourself. Or something. His master could have summed up how he felt metaphorically. The only way Alyr would learn to fear dragons was to fight one herself. Having thought that, he quickly considered the reverse, and wondered if the dragon could survive her tongue. Besides, would it really be so bad to have someone along with him, at least for moral support?

They packed. The trip would take several days, one to get to the mountain, and three or four to climb it to the place the dragon made its lair. He took little other than his sleeping roll, enough food for about a week, a canteen, and a hunting knife. And his magical preparations, of course. He collapsed the magical staff to a small fraction of its size and put it in a wrist holder, and secreted the other things on his person in various places. Alyr was wearing her leather and her wool cloak. She wore a pack crammed with who knew what and topped off with a sleeping roll. And of course her sword.

They set off across the floor of the valley towards the eastern mountain on which the dragon lived. Even moving towards it in broad daylight, Gan had trouble believing he was actually doing it. He was glad Alyr was there to give him a reason not to run in some other direction. Her presence steadied and calmed him: if she could face what she was to do with no magic at all, he ought to be able to. One time he looked at the mountain so long as he walked that he tripped and almost fell. Alyr muttered something about "clumsy".

The terrain of the flat valley gave way to rolling hills quickly, and they climbed up through these all during the day. They passed one or two outlying farms, but few homes could be found on the eastern end of the valley. Up in the hills, a few trees could be seen, but the slopes of the mountains were mostly bare. They had come a long way, though, for the day's march, by the time they halted for camp. Alyr set a hard pace, which left him tired by the end of the day. They ate, without speaking much, and Gan gratefully sank into his sleeping roll.

The next morning, Alyr unceremoniously rolled Gan out of his sleeping roll to awaken him, then dumped it over his head. This was accompanied by a laugh. He was mustering an indignant sputter when he realized she had already cooked breakfast, then decided to let it pass. It smelled good. She was a better cook than he. When he thanked her for fixing the food, she turned her head and mumbled something. He thought he saw her cheeks darken, but couldn't figure out why.

Their first day on the mountain led them up the main trail, which swayed up and around the contours of the mountainside. At first it was broad and well marked, but soon became jumbled with rocks through which they had to pick a path. By midday, they had gotten higher and the mountain was steeper. The trail was characteristically a thin ledge of flatter earth between a cliff face and a cliff wall, sometimes no more than three feet wide. The slight trail narrowed and widened unexpectedly, and they had to be careful.

As they walked, Gan noticed his companion was straying awfully close to the edge of the path. With the snow piling up, he knew it would be hard to distinguish between the stony edge and some snow that had piled up. He finally said something. "Be careful. Some of this snow is just loose. You could go over the edge."

That gave rise to the reaction he would have anticipated. She sniffed. "Like you need to tell me. I've climbed mountains before while you were reading your books." Not this mountain, of course, since it was the one which bore the dragon, but the mountains to the south. He guessed. He noticed she bit her lip, and looked like she wanted to say something else. Or perhaps take back what she had said. She was looking at him and walking the other way when her foot slipped on a patch of ice. Her other foot by reflex moved to balance her, but sank down into snow. She threw her arms out to try to counterbalance, but it was too late.

"Gan!" She screamed, falling over the edge as the snow crumbled. She tried to grab onto something, but her hands sunk down into the snow making deep indentions. She was slipping over the edge! He grabbed her wrists, and she clamped onto his wrists too. All of her weight was on him as her feet dangled into midair. He was genuinely surprised by how heavy she was. He shouldn't have been, since she had to weigh more than he did even without the gear attached to her. He planted his feet to achieve the best balance he could on the rocky path. In the eternity it took to lift her up, he realized that although she was brawny, she had a gracefulness about her that did not draw attention to the fact. He wished he could stop thinking about things like that. He pulled with all his might, and finally one boot and then the other caught on the ledge.

Eventually she was back on firmer ground. She stood staring down the long cliff face, not even realizing she was gripping his arm -- hard -- for support. "I could have..."

"You're okay now."

"I am a clumsy fool!" Her face was screwed up as if she were giving herself a full-blast mental berating. A wisp of hair had escaped her braid and was damply stuck to her face from the sweat generated by her brush with death. Her teeth sank into her lower lip once she stopped speaking.

"It was hardly your fault. You slipped on the ice." He put his arm around her shoulder. That she did not shrug it off immediately came as a surprise, but he did not show it. She actually leaned against him for a moment, just a couple of heartbeats, and then turned back up the trail.

"We have to press on. We'll never get there at this rate." Without looking back to see if he followed, Alyr set off up the trail once more.

Alyr had been getting progressively worse after she had almost fallen. By the time they made camp for the night, she was barely speaking and only answered direct questions in a snappy voice. Gan finally announced that it was late and they needed to make camp while it was still light enough to see to pick out a good spot.

He picked out the spot. Uncharacteristically, Alyr did not participate in making camp. Gan made the bedrolls, started the fire, and even began cooking. Alyr sat with her chin on her knees, her hands clasped in front of her. She stared at her boots. Finally, she took the plate of beans and the hard biscuit with a slab of cheese that Gan pushed into her hands. She ate little of it, mostly just pushing the food around.

Gan didn't like seeing her this way. "Don't keep blaming yourself because of the slip."

"You were right, it was just an accident." Her voice got sharp and she bit the words off. "If you hadn't been distracting me unnecessarily, I would have been paying attention and not have slipped. So in the future, if you want me to guide you, maybe you should quit distracting me."

Well, Gan supposed that mad was better than dejected, especially when they were going to fight a dragon.

She looked up at him, the first time since earlier she had met his eyes, and said in a small voice, "I didn't mean that, it's just ... forget it. We need to get some sleep." She went to her roll and turned over facing away from him.

The next day, they continued their climb. The slopes of the mountain narrowed, and the trail began to require some climbing. One time a rock slide completely covered part of the trail and they had to climb over it. One time they saw about half of the trail had been washed out from erosion, leaving only a thin lip for them to scoot by on. They could go only one at a time, one boot at a time in front of the other, and it looked as if what was left of the trail was ready to collapse.

Finally they got to a fairly level, fairly well preserved part of the trail. Tired from their exertions earlier, they were happy to walk along it, and even attempted to make some light conversation with their restored breath. Gan made a remark which caused Alyr to turn back to look at him, and her eyes widened as they focused on something behind him. She ran at him and tackled him, sending them both sprawling flat on the trail as a shadow passed above them right through the spot he had been standing before. As she hit the ground, Alyr rolled and drew her sword. He stood, but she used her free hand to push him back behind her.

The borath -- for that was what had jumped at them -- was a cross between a dog and a bear. Its most prominent feature was its huge teeth, dripping with drool. Its claws were sharp, and it had a gleam in its eye. Gan had never seen a borath before, and was not happy to have the honor now.

Alyr brandished her blade, and yelled, trying to scare it off. It didn't work. The thing drew up in a crouch, coiling to pounce. Alyr leapt to the side, bringing her sword down in a two-handed chop to its neck. The borath screamed and twisted, lashing out. The beast was faster than it looked, and its claws raked her left arm. She winced, but since the beast had slipped after its ill-planned move, she used the opportunity to drive her sword point into its head.

The beast lay dead in the trail. Gan had to step over it to come to his companion. Alyr was clutching the arm. Gan tried to stop the bleeding and tend to it as much as he could. The trail was a poor place to do much.

As he worked, Alyr spoke quietly, "Borath usually don't come this far down the mountains, and they hardly ever attack people, especially more than one person. I don't know why this one did."

He wrapped a scarf around the wound. "Let's go on a little ways. You said there should be a hollow ahead we can camp in. I'll fix you up there."

She nodded an okay. "I can make it," she told him, but through gritted teeth.

When they found a small hollow place in the rocks, they collapsed in it. They settled down for the night, both exhausted. Gan unwrapped the scarf from her wounded arm, and tore back the sleeve of her thick wool shirt. Three long, parallel gashes were bleeding on her forearm. He reached into his pouch of magical implements, and got out some healing salve. He smeared it on the arm, spoke the words of a healing spell, and then wrapped it back in the scarf.

She whispered, and it was hard to hear her above the wind. "Thank you. It feels much better."

"I can't completely rid you of the scars, but I guess you won't mind having them to show people. You were magnificent fighting that beast!" He actually meant it. And he thought the praise would be what she needed to keep going.

"I ... I don't remember much about it. I just acted. I'm glad we're safe now." She didn't look at him, and didn't smile or react much at all. He wished he knew the right thing to say, just once.

They settled in for the night, eating a cheerless meal and bedding down. Alyr had been rubbing her sword hand's palm against her thighs, on her blanket, and everywhere else, over and over. Even though she had been wounded and needed sleep, her eyes darted around at every sound.

After an hour, Gan said softly, "It's okay to be afraid."

"Why should I be afraid?" She challenged him with a glare. He could imagine her hackles rising. At least arguing with him would take her mind off of brooding.

"We are, after all, walking into a dragon's lair," Gan said.

"And I'm not even there yet, and I'm wounded already. And the borath wasn't even much of a threat. I'd be dead if it weren't for you."

"Considering we're both alive, we're doing pretty good. Besides, that's why people travel together, to watch out for one another."

Her glare softened, and she stared down at her hands, which were fiddling with the blanket's hem. "How can I cower in fear when all of the people in the village are counting on us to kill the dragon?"

Gan replied, "Being afraid is one thing. Cowering in fear is something else. You can be afraid without giving up."

She gave a weak try at laughing which came out more as a snort. "No, I can't. All of my life, I've spent every moment preparing for this. Or something like this. I don't want to be a farmer, I don't want to be someone's pregnant wife. I want to live my own life. I've had tobe better, stronger, more dedicated, and more stubborn than anyone in the village to be taught anything. I want to go to the College Of Swords, and then maybe even be an officer in the king's army, or something."

"That's very admirable." He realized he was being honest saying this. He liked this side of her. Her pride and resolve could be very attractive when it was not accompanied by anger and challenge and confrontation.

She continued: "But I can't do anything until I can prove to myself that I can face my fears and fight the dragon. If I can't do that, I will never be sure of myself."

"I guess we're in the same situation. As long as that dragon is alive, no one will want to accept me as the town's wizard. I need to kill the dragon to prove myself."

"You?" She sounded incredulous, like he had changed the subject away from something she wanted to talk about. "You already have everything -- you are a wizard, an educated person, you have your own home, your own place in the world. A secure future that you don't have to do anything to get." So that was how she saw him.

"You seem to be forgetting the other day when you told me that everyone in town was plotting to get rid of me in favor of a new wizard. But consider this, just coming along with me on this proves you are brave and worthy. Everyone else would rather sit around and bemoan the dragon rather than fight him. No one is going to think any less of you for having tried, whether we succeed or not."

"If I can do this, I will be worthy of going to the College Of Swords."

He tried to put on an encouraging smile. "You'll do great at the College Of Swords. They'll be lucky to have you."

"And I'm going to have to sell the only thing that links me to my family. You don't know, I guess, that Bando adopted me. No one does. My real parents, he told me, were refugees from the war. My father was an officer in the military, and my mother was in poor health. She finally died when I was a year old. So Bando raised me. All I have is their locket, an ancient heirloom of the family. Now I'll have to sell it. It's the only way I can go to the College Of Swords."

"Not if we are successful, since dragons by reputation make their beds on large piles of treasure."

She grinned. "That's true, I hadn't thought about that!"

"Besides, I know this wizard who would buy it from you. He'd keep it just in case you ever made enough money soldiering to buy it back."

"He would?"

"Sure."

"There's a rock over here digging into me," Alyr said. She got up and moved her bedroll close to Gan, and used his shoulder as a pillow. They fell asleep on the mountainside listening to the wind.

The dawn came, opening their eyes for the final day of their ascent of the mountain. They got up and prepared to complete their journey.

Alyr tried to smooth and repair her frayed braid, and gave up and just unbraided it. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle it. "I wish I had a brush." His master had always told him the universal rule of traveling was that you always forgot something. Apparently this was it.

He produced a brush from one of the pouches on his belt. He handed it to her. Her fingers touched his and lingered for a heartbeat. She smiled at him and began the process of brushing her hair. He noticed that with her hair down, something he'd rarely seen in the past few years as she had devoted more and more of her time to learning how to fight, she looked so much younger and softer. More feminine. The dawn was captured in her emerald eyes, which sparkled like glistening sun on melting snow.

Alyr suddenly said to him. "Can you braid hair?" He shook his head no, and she rolled her eyes as if to say what-did-I-expect. She quickly showed him the gist of the technique, and allowed him to braid her hair back up.

On the third day of their journey, they reached the high mountain lair of the dragon. They came upon it all of the sudden: The trail took a turn around a corner and suddenly the slope dropped downward along a small bowl, and at the other end was a gaping black hole. Alyr, in the lead, gasped and shoved Gan back around the corner. They sunk down, keeping their arms around each other.

"We're here?" she whispered to him.

"Yes, we're here. This is it. Are you sure you want to do this?" Gan was trembling, and she was too under his hands on her shoulders. She nodded a yes to him. "Okay, first I am going to scout things out magically to see what is going on. Just be patient." Gan felt out with his magical senses. He went out and explored all around, even down into the gaping entrance to the lair.

Gan smiled broadly, all of the sudden, and stood up. He walked to the cave mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a horrified look cross Alyr's face. "Get back, you fool!" She tugged at his cloak. "Are you under the dragon-spell?"

"No, I'm afraid it isn't a dragon's spell at all." He took her hand and led her into the lair. Stunned, Alyr followed willingly. Inside the blackness, Gan filled the cave, which stretched far above their heads and as far back into the mountain as they could see, with a magical radiance to illuminate everything.

"This is the dragon we've been afraid of!" Gan said, and laughed as he kicked a huge skull. Out in front of him stretched a white skeleton of a giant monster, but that is all it was. A skeleton. Alyr gaped, and finally covered her hanging-open mouth with her hand.

"How long?"

"Has it been dead? At least fifty years."

"You didn't know? Truly?"

"He never told me. And no wonder. This is how he secured his reputation for all those years. He kept the dragon alive as a myth." Gan had to laugh out loud.

"Aren't we brave?" She giggled. "Fighting an illusion." She slammed her sword back into its scabbard. They camped inside the lair, because it was at least good shelter out of the wind. It appeared no one was in residence, not even a mountain bear completely unaffiliated with the dragon.

Soon Gan had a nice fire going, and the lair got warmer. Alyr came over beside him, and sat down with her legs crossed. She said, "Not really the end I expected. Us sitting in a cave together looking at dragon bones."

"But the important thing is now we know, once and for all. It's over!"

Alyr said, "Now we have to go back and tell everyone how brave we are."

Gan paused for a few beats to get her full attention focused on what he was going to say next. "We could tell everyone, yes. But think about it: all of the people of our village have been living under the dragon-fear for almost fifty years now. If we told them it had all been perpetuated as a joke -- or worse -- think of how they'd feel."

"You're right. I didn't think about that." She stared at the sides of her boots. "But we can't take credit for killing a dragon that never existed, can we?"

"I think," Gan started, but then trailed off and started again. "You wanted to go off to the College Of Swords, right?" She nodded an affirmative. "What better resume for entrance than having slain a dragon? I hear the competition for enrollment is fierce."

Her eyes widened, and she looked at him. The firelight made her green eyes sparkle, he couldn't help but notice. "You ... would do that? For me? Let me have all of the credit?"

"Why not? The dragon doesn't actually exist, and you're more than good enough to prove yourself if they give you a chance."

"I don't know if I even want to go or not. If I left, who would look after you?" She gave him a lopsided smile to let him know she meant that differently than before. He could barely hear her whisper, "You're so different than I thought you were."

"You are too. I like you much better now. Before you were so angry and defensive."

"Before I was scared, Gan!" She let out an explosive breath, he supposed of relief for having said that, took several deep breaths, and continued. "A dragon. And no one but me who could fight it. None of the men in the village are fighters, except the old ones from the war. Just me. Everyone always used to laugh at me when I told them I wanted to learn how to fight and how to use a sword. They would be amused when I started wearing one. They said the College Of Swords would never take me. But then everyone looked at me differently once I had learned enough, and then the wizard died."

He reached over and took her hand. "I wish you had told me all this."

"And make myself look weak after all the cruel things I said to you? I couldn't let you see any chinks in my armor. I didn't want to be cruel, exactly, it's just that I never knew what to say to you. Nothing ever came out right when I opened my mouth. I don't understand you, I can't relate to you. You're smart, you read books, you do magic. I'm an ox," she had to give him the lopsided smile again, "I fight with a sword, I like sleeping under the stars. Do we have anything at all in common?" She sounded to Gan as if she wanted him to reassure her they did.

Gan was in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, few of which he could put a name on. Didn't know what to say? He could have told her the same thing. "We're both brave dragon hunters, sitting in a cave." She smiled beams of sunlight at him, revealing the beautiful face he remembered. "As long as we can talk to each other, like this, we can be friends."

"Just friends?" She smiled and leaned over and kissed him.

Gan remembered little of the trip down the mountain, and whatever he told the villagers remained a dimly remembered blur for the rest of his life. They cheered him and Alyr, and had feasting for three days. After that had settled down, Gan remembered his promise and bought Alyr's locket for the price of admission to the College Of Swords. It was not as valuable as that, but she was to him, so he kept that secret in a safe place with the locket. He had to talk her into going, since she wanted to stay in the valley. And stay with him. He finally convinced her that this was her chance to fulfill her dreams, and it would only be a year ... and he would marry her before she left so they would have an unbreakable bond between them. That spring, Gan and Alyr got married, the day before she left to attend the College Of Swords. Gan gave her the locket back as a wedding present, over which her feeble protests were answered by Gan saying he had paid good money for it and could do as he pleased. They came to love one another for their differences, and for the common bond they shared. As Gan became a true wizard in his own right, Alyr became a champion swordswoman. The many stories of their adventures in life will have to be told some other time.