ERIC

  Eric dismounted Daisy and stretched. Rose climbed down from her chuffer and lifted her goggles over her head, curiously glancing around at the village they had arrived at. There were only a handful of houses, all dotted beside the central pathway. Each looked like an eerie copy of another, yet all had their own distinct flavour, such as a stack of barrels or a rickety porch. Barren fields stretched all around, providing no salvation from the tedious breeze.

  ‘Are you sure this is the place?’ asked Rose.

  Eric unravelled his faded map and peered at it for the hundredth time that day. ‘This is where Lord Egglewort marked for us, and there hasn’t been anything else for miles. It's gotta be Clopcod.’

  It had taken another day's ride, and Eric had managed to avoid most of Rose’s incessant questions along the way. None of his other apprentices had ever been this chatty, and Eric preferred to watch the bland farmlands pass by instead of making small talk. She’d even asked where the dire-badger had wandered off to in the morning. How was he supposed to know? Probably to forage for another hit of Elixir. Eric rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He’d stayed up all night tending to that badger, but didn’t tell this to Rose in case she’d think he’d gone soft.

  Eric shoved the map back into Daisy’s saddlebag and patted her side, then led her over to the hitching post and tied her up.

  ‘Only one way to find out,’ said Rose, as she skipped over to a passing farmer. The young man was surprisingly well dressed for a peasant and hardly had any muck on him. Rose nodded to him and gave a warm smile. ‘Howdy and good morning, sir! Is this Clopcod? We’ve come to deal with a dragon problem.’

  The young farmer didn’t seem surprised at all, or even thankful. He simply stared at them with a blank look on his face. ‘You’ll be wanting to speak with Old Ted then,’ he said and spat onto the dry earth.

  Rose’s smile didn’t falter. ‘And where can we find Old Ted?’

  ‘Probably in his house.’

  ‘And where is his house?’ said Eric, trying to be patient.

  The young farmer started to pick at his nose. ‘That house there,’ he pointed, bogey on the end of his finger. ‘The one with the wonky roof.’

  As far as Eric could tell, all the little houses had wonky roofs. And there couldn’t have been more than a dozen of them. However, one was wonky to the point of collapse. That must have been it.

  Eric turned and walked away from the infuriating man. ‘Come on then Rose, let’s go see this old fart Ted.’

  After a few knocks, a wrinkled and hunched man poked his head out of his doorway and suspiciously eyed the pair. ‘What do you want?’ he said through toothless lips.

  Eric wiped the spittle from his face. ‘Are you Old Ted?’

  ‘Aye, that I am.’

  ‘I’m Eric, from Beast Be Gone. This here is my apprentice, Rose. We’ve come to sort out your dragon problem.’

  The door creaked as it opened and Old Ted beckoned them inside. ‘Oh. Yes… of course. Do come in.’

  Eric drew an audible breath. The old man’s house was much too lavish for a farmer. Golden trinkets glistened in the candlelight, rich fabrics adorned the plush furnishings and an oversized chandelier hung in the middle.

  Eric ran his finger along a spotless golden orb on the sideboard. ‘Awful lot of loot here. Did you use to be an adventurer?’

  ‘Heavens no,’ said Old Ted with a chuckle. ‘I… inherited all this from my late uncle.’ He slumped down onto a cosy looking armchair and gave them a quizzical look. ‘And you’re not adventurers?’

  ‘No, we’re pest control.’

  ‘Hum. How very odd. Don’t see many of your sort around here.’

  ‘Times are tough.’ Eric tapped his foot impatiently. ‘So where’s this dragon then?’

  Old Ted’s eyes glinted with glee. ‘It’s a tale as old as time, young man. You see, far across this land, an ancient…’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, ancient curse. Piles of treasure. Lost sheep and maidens.’ Eric waved a dismissive hand. ‘Textbook. Just tell me where it’s nesting and we’ll be away.’

  Old Ted slumped his shoulders. ‘Don’t you want to hear my story? It’s a tale as old as time...’

  ‘We need to get there before nightfall.’

  Old Ted crossed his arms. ‘Well, maybe I don’t want to tell you then.’

  ‘It’s like that is it?’

  ‘Afraid so.’

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  Why did everyone in this rotten town have to be so difficult? ‘We’ve come under the orders of your Lord,’ said Eric sternly. ‘If you don’t assist us, Egglewort will hear about it.’

  ‘Fine.’ Old Ted huffed. ‘It’s nesting up in the ancient mines a few miles north of here. Follow the river, you can’t miss it.’

  ‘And what sort of dragon is it?’

  ‘It’s a dragon.’ Old Ted smiled sarcastically. ‘You know, scaly, long, angry. Loves gold?’

  Eric clenched his fists. ‘No, I mean what sort of dragon. Greyskin, Snubnose, Hornfoot, Tuftwaggle, Goldscale…’

  ‘I said I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, what does it look like?’

  Old Ted tapped his chin musingly. ‘Kind of orange, with a spiky neck?’

  ‘And a long tail?’

  ‘I think so. I didn’t get a good look at it.’

  ‘Guess it’s a Clawridge then. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem.’ Eric walked back towards the door. ‘It’s been a pleasure. But we’ve got to be off to exterminate a dragon.’

  * * *

  Eric and Rose peered into the darkness of the entrance to the mine. The hole had been cut into the sheer rock face and propped up by thick wooden beams. Shoddy carpentry, though. Eric pushed back the thoughts of the pointy teeth lurking within.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Rose.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Eric. He took a deep breath. ‘I can’t smell sulphur, so it won’t be using this cave as its entrance.’

  Rose’s voice wavered. ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Positive. We can set up camp in the trees over there. Then we’ll scout the caves and start setting some traps.’

  They led the wagon over to the spot under the trees and unpacked some essential gear. Dragon repellent, fireproof cloaks, torches and comfortable shoes for running away in. He shoved as much as he could into his Sack of Clutching. Then they lit their torches and stepped into the mine.

  ‘Let’s just hope it’s a male,’ said Eric as they descended into the darkened tunnel. The cut stone was smooth beneath their feet, but years of disuse had coated it with dust and grit.

  ‘Why?’ Rose’s voice echoed in the emptiness, along with her rumbling pack. She winced and turned it off. The chugging stopped and there was blissful silence. She mouthed ‘sorry’ in the torchlight.

  Eric tutted. ‘How would you feel about crushing dragon eggs?’

  Rose held her torch high, cautiously glancing around at the vast stone walls surrounding them. ‘Seems a little cruel.’

  ‘It’s not easily done. And it’s worse once they’ve hatched. They don’t die so quietly.’

  ‘Surely it can’t be so bad? They’re only small.’

  ‘They can still breath fire.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘And they don’t know how to use it. Makes them unpredictable.’

  ‘Fair point.’ Rose paused. ‘Then I hope it’s a male dragon too.’

  Eric scribbled a map of the tunnels as they went along, being careful to mark any identifiable points. Not that there were any. He had to make do with comments such as, “sheep shaped rock,” and “funny-looking crack.”

  They managed to find three other entrances and seven chambers, each larger than the last. All empty.

  After a while, Rose stopped. ‘I don’t understand, where could it be? Is it hiding?’

  ‘Unlikely. Where would it fit? There’s only one last place it could be, right here in the central cavern.’ Eric pointed at the blank space in the middle of his map.

  ‘How do you know there’s a central cavern?’

  ‘These are man-made mines, there’s always a main cavern. That’s where the worst monsters hide, and where the best treasure is hidden. So it has to be down that path.’ A foreboding sense of dread crept over him as he looked towards the tunnel. ‘Follow me.’

  They extinguished their torches and continued along, using their hands to guide them on the rough limestone walls. There were some claw marks etched into the rock. Eric’s heart pounded, his stomach twisted into burning knots.

  The main chamber appeared before them. A vast open space, lined with shelves and tools along the walls, the floor littered with the bones of adventurers. A single sharp beam of light shone down from a hole in the ceiling high above, illuminating a chest on a central stone plinth.

  But no dragon.

  Eric breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Maybe it’s out hunting?’ whispered Rose.

  ‘Maybe,’ Eric whispered back. ‘But this doesn’t feel right to me. There’s no dragon dung anywhere.’

  ‘Perhaps some adventurers have slain the dragon already?’

  ‘I don’t see any dragon bones, do you? Nah, it’s still alive. If it ever was alive. But if something’s been bothering these villagers, we’ll find it.’

  Rose stepped a little closer to Eric. ‘What should we do?’

  ‘We’ll lay a trap, then we’ll catch it when it comes back.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we go and look at that chest? We could take a little treasure.’

  ‘No,’ said Eric, firmly. ‘We never steal, just neutralise the threat. We’re not horrible adventurers.’

  Rose helped Eric unload the equipment from the wagon. She wheezed and strained but never uttered a word of complaint. Eric laid out the metal spikes, pulleys, and rope on the dirt. He inspected each element, ticking each one off his list. Rose watched everything, fascinated.

  It took them an hour to drag everything deep into the tunnels, where they managed to find a perfect spot at a crossroad. It had a nice low ceiling and a tight corner.

  It had been a long time since Eric last set up a dragon trap. But he tried not to dwell on what had happened then. He just hoped that the equipment was still in working order. Some parts seemed as rusty as rain buckets.

  They raised the supports, wedging them into the rocks. Eric scaled a ladder, which Rose dutifully held steady with the aid of her metal claw. He hammered spikes into the ceiling, then coated them with anti-dragon venom.

  Using the existing beams left by the miners, they strapped up a series of ropes and pulleys. Finally, Eric wound the whole structure up tightly using the lock-pulley winch.

  Eric licked his lips. The floor was now a thick web of taut ropes, ready to snare its unsuspecting victim.

  ‘How will we know when we’ve caught anything?’ asked Rose as she jotted into her notebook.

  Eric held out his hand, revealing a red crystal in a silver casing. ‘This is a trapgem. It’ll let us know when the trap’s been sprung.’ Trapgems were always exciting. There was a sense of anticipation to them that made him feel alive, although in this case it made him feel the opposite. A trapgem had only only failed him once, when a team of rat-men had tricked him with a wheel of cheddar and he’d ended up inside his own trap. Fortunately he knew enough squeak-speak to negotiate his way out.

  Rose’s eyes gleamed. ‘Fascinating.’

  ‘Careful now, take a step back,’ Eric warned Rose. ‘Let’s go back to camp. We could have a long wait ahead of us.’

  * * *

  The sky outside had fallen dark in their absence. Now only the moon cast its light upon the forest clearing, blotting out the stars. Eric insisted that they didn’t make a fire, as it would attract unwanted attention. So instead they depressingly ate wheatbiscuits for dinner and lay down in their tent to get some much-needed sleep.

  Eric closed his eyes. All he saw was fire and horns. Sharpened, deadly fangs flashed and snapped. Then a scaly, gaping jaw enveloped him, burning his skin and melting his flesh. He screamed.

  Eric sat up, wide awake. Heart thumping.

  The crystal glowed in his hand, vibrating gently.

  Rose stirred beside him. ‘What is it?’

  Eric gulped. ‘Looks like we’ve caught ourselves a dragon.’