Kalamaf Drackonsbane

I wrote the following story in 1993, born of boredom while taking an Accounting course at NSCC, which means I was only around 19 at the time.

Deadly Imagination

It was a morning much like any other in the town of Ridgewood. Spring was in the air, trees were starting to turn green with new leaves, flowers were poking up through the fresh grass and the farmers were preparing the fields for plowing.

It’ll be time to move on soon, thought Rogar, it was getting too dangerous to stay in the same place for more than a few days. He wasn’t really sure just what it was that was pursuing him, he had never seen anything like it before. It was a strange thing, never wearing the same thing more than once as far as he could tell. Last time he saw it, it had on a deep-green tunic, brown breeches, soft leather boots and a black cap. When he blinked, it was gone. It carried no visible weapons and attracted no attention. This was strange considering what it looked like. It was seven feet tall, about 300 pounds and had a huge head with spikes running down the back and along its neck. It’s skin was like scales. It made Rogar shiver just thinking about it.

He used to think it was just his imagination, the way only he seemed to see it and with how quickly it disappeared. But about a month ago he was walking down a side-street in Oakvale, and when he turned around a corner, there was the creature, this time all dressed in black with two tentacles growing from its shoulders. It lashed out with one of the tentacles and it wrapped around his left arm. He had managed to hack it off with his sword and start running, but not before the other tentacle had slapped the side of his head leaving a bruise that had lasted for two weeks.

He had run for about three blocks then turned to look back. The beast was no-where in sight.

Something so hideous could only be born of an active imagination, couldn’t it? But imagination didn’t kill, did it? He wished he could figure it out. He only knew that sooner or later he would have to face it, but knowing this only made it worse.

Shaking his head, he continued walking, making his way back to the Dancing Dragon Inn where he had taken a room. It was a small Inn with only fifteen rooms, but it was cheap and the food was hot.

He stepped inside and looked around the common room. The innkeeper was sweeping the floor, four men were playing cards at a corner table and about a dozen other people were eating their afternoon meal. He made his way across the room, nodded to the innkeeper and went up the stairs.

Standing outside his door, he checked the lock, it still held and hadn’t been opened. Turning the knob a little to the left, he inserted the key, unlocked the door and opened it. Looking inside, he saw that it was as he had left it. He went in and turned to lock and bolt the door. When he turned back he realized that sooner had come too soon.

Leaning casually against the far wall was the tall humanoid thing. He couldn’t see any of its features aside from its glowing green eyes staring at him, but he knew it was the thing that had been haunting him. It was dressed completely in blue with red, jagged stripes resembling claw slashes running down the arms, legs and chest. At least this time it didn’t have tentacles growing from its shoulders.

It took a step forward and held out it’s hands. A flaming battle-axe suddenly appeared in one hand and a sparkling blue shield in the other. There was no time to be afraid this time.

Rogar drew his shortsword and the small iron rod he also favoured as a weapon. It was about an inch thick, two feet long and had a small, sharp hook on one end.

It took another step forward, and with a low growl, swung the axe at Rogar’s midsection. Rogar easily blocked the blow with his shortsword and counter-attacked with a swipe at its extended forearm. It brought the shield up in time to stop the hook from biting into its arm. Blocking and striking, axe blazing and sword whirling, they fought for several minutes with neither gaining ground.

Then with a sudden burst of inspiration, Rogar swung his sword high to distract the monster and dove forward, under its shield, feeling the rush of heated air created by the blazing axe as it whooshed over his head, singeing his hair. As he went past it he lashed out with his hook and felt it dig into the flesh of the beast’s chest. He pulled hard and heard the ripping of cloth and saw a new red gash appear on the huge chest of the monster, stretching from its upper right to its lower left rib cage. Blood spurted from the wound and splattered onto Rogar’s back as he flew by. He screamed in pain as it burned into the exposed flesh of his neck and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of burning leather as his tunic began to smolder.

Tucking into a roll as he hit the floor, Rogar tumbled a few feet and stopped short as he collided with the wall which he had thought was farther away. He staggered to his feet and turned to face the hideous beast and saw that it had also turned to face him. It was staring at him, he saw that it’s eyes had gone from green to a brilliant red that shone with pure hatred. He failed to notice the heavy blue boot until it slammed into his face, knocking him backwards into the wall and then to his knees. It kicked him again, nearly knocking him unconscious, then threw back it’s head and roared a loud, ear shattering roar as of boulders being ground together. The next thing Rogar felt was the chill of the metal shield being pressed against the side of his head and he could hear the roar of fire as the axe came rushing in from the other side. The last thing he ever felt was the sharp, burning pain as the fiery axe sliced through the tender flesh of his neck and clanged loudly as it struck the shield on the other side.

Even as his head began to topple from the now lifeless body that had once been Rogar, the monster began to fade out of sight. By the time his head was halfway to the floor, the tall, blue figure was a mere, faint shadow standing in the middle of the room. As his head hit the floor with a wet smack and rolled toward the door leaving a trail of blood behind it, there was no longer any trace of the monster that had killed Rogar. It was as if it had never existed.

Down in the common room the innkeeper continued sweeping, the men in the corner kept playing cards and the people at the other tables didn’t even look up from their plates. No one had heard anything unusual. Nothing aside from the two thumps from the room upstairs as the guest dropped his boots onto the floor. Or so they thought.