The Wyrm's Bridge
#2 of The City of Six Hills
The Wyrm's Bridge
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A Tale of the City of Six Hills
Up ahead lay her goal. Or rather, the final path to her goal. A narrow rope bridge that spanned a terrifyingly deep crevice between her side of the mountain and the cave built into the peak above. After crossing the bridge, she would still have a winding and rock-strewn path up to the cave itself, but that wasn't much of an obstacle to anyone with reasonably sure feet and some climbing gear. No, the real obstacle was getting across the perilous bridge to the other side. The bridge itself wasn't a problem - good balance and a head for heights would see her through. The problem with the bridge was that its owner was known for not being too keen on visitors. Damaris knew without looking that the bottom of the ravine below the bridge was decorated with the broken bones of most of those who had come before her. "Most" because a goodly proportion of them had decided that caution was the better part of valour and had rather sensibly turned around and gone home, preferring to face ridicule rather than a fall to their death.
Damaris, however, had confidence that she would continue where they had faltered, and succeed where they had failed. Still, it was something of a gambit. Taking a deep breath to steady her jangling nerves, Damaris took a half-step forward and placed her foot on the base rope of the bridge, holding one of the mooring posts for support. And there she waited; if there was one thing that all of the cowardly but sensible survivors had been clear about, it was that one did not rush ahead, here. Actually, they'd also all agreed on the matter of the sheer breeches-shitting terror of what was to come, but that wasn't helpful to think on right now. So she put her weight forward onto the bridge, and then stepped back and waited.
Minutes later, just as the chill of the thin mountain air was beginning to seep through her leather jerkin and the urge to start moving about again became almost irresistible, Damaris heard the signal that she had been waiting for. High above her head, in the grey mists that encircle and hid the mountain's summit, came a sound like somebody rhythmically hitting a heifer with a carpet-beater, only the heifer in question was the size of a building and they were being struck by a giant. And then, amidst the swirling cloud, she saw a hint of movement and a shadow that rapidly grew larger before bursting out of the mist and into plain sight. The creature was enormous, with its scaled body easily the size of the mayor's office back in the city, it's great tail half as long as the street she grew up on, and each bat-like wing the size of a half dozen mainsails stitched together. With gradually softening wingbeats that were still loud enough to make Damaris wince, the dragon settled down across the gorge from her and regarded her with undeniably intelligent eyes. Its horse-like head, on the end of a long and serpentine neck, moved through the air as it regarded her from a number of angles. Quietly, patiently, and one small step away from abject terror, Damaris continued to wait.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" Boomed the great voice of the beast, at last. Damaris braced herself as the gale-force wind of its breath buffeted her. Steeling herself, Damaris swallowed before speaking.
"I am Damaris de Montfort, and I come seeking your most valuable treasure!" Her voice was raised, as she sought to hide her fear behind a bold face; the dragon seemed indifferent.
"Many have come seeking my treasure. All have gone away empty-handed, or died here. Why should you not join them?" Demanded the dragon.
"All that have come before me have underestimated you, oh great wyrm. They have sought to wheedle you with flattery, or outmatch you with their wits. The truly stupid have even tried to assault you, like birds pecking a mountain." The dragon allowed a slight smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth.
"You, I take it, have another strategy in mind. Will you appeal to my reason or my honour? Will you seek to bribe me, or to convince me with moral arguments?" His tone was amused: he enjoyed it more when they tried to talk him out of his treasure. Defeating an idiot in a suit of armour was no challenge at all, and while these dull little creatures were not difficult to outwit, it was at least a minor diversion and a moment's entertainment.
"Nothing so banal, my lord dragon. I wish to trade." Damaris spread her arms, showing that she had not even brought any weaponry with her, besides the equipment required to make it this far up the mountain.
"Trade? My, that is a new stratagem! But what, dear fleshy little human, do you have to offer me that you think will be of comparable worth to my treasure?" Leaning his head out over the chasm that separated them, the dragon gave a wry grin.
"It is not your regular treasure that interests me, but you greatest treasure. And I offer mine in exchange, that we might pool them together and both benefit greatly." With several minutes having gone by without any hint of being eaten or roasted alive, Damaris grew bolder. She understood that she was still at the whim of this terrible creature but knew also that so long as she had his interest she was safe. Dragons were nothing if not curious, after all.
"My greatest treasure? And what is that? And what is your greatest treasure?" The great beast folded its forelimbs under itself and leaned forward further, its neck stretching halfway across the chasm. Damaris smiled.
"Your seed, oh great dragon lord, and my womb." This was it, the moment of truth. Either she had him now or she wasn't going to need to worry what tomorrow held. The dragon blinked, slowly, and reared its enormous head up, regarding Damaris with a puzzled look.
"My...? Hm." The area fell into silence, save for the whispering of the wind as it wound its way around the canyon below. Damaris shifted her weight from foot to foot, starting to grow impatient as the dragon considered her offer. At last, the dragon spoke, "It is true that I have no offspring, and it is also true that am quite capable of mating with one of your people, perverse though the act might be. However, the creature you would birth would be neither dragon nor human, but a half-breed. He would possess some of my intellect and a fraction of my puissance, but he would not be able to fly and would be nearly as frail as you. What use would I have of a bastard creature such as that?"
"Influence, my lord," replied Damaris. "He would be able to pass as human, would he not? And he would, as you said, be mightier and more cunning than any human. Individually, there is no person in the City of Six Hills who could hope to stand against you, but the combined power of the city, its magisters, and its artillery, is such that even one as immense as yourself could not hope to prevail." She hesitated; dragons were, as a breed, arrogant creatures and it was risky to remind him of his inability to conquer the lands at the foot of his mountain. However, she clearly had his interest, as there was little more than a raised eye-ridge at her comment, and a flaming death failed to materialise. "But if you had an ally, a creature of your blood who could infiltrate the city and bend it to your will, would this not be achieving with guile that which pure force could not deliver to you?" The dragon stared at her, its reptilian eyes unblinking and its focus unwavering. She felt her own eyes begin to water, just trying to hold the creature's gaze. And then it smiled; at least, she hoped that was a smile and not a snarl.
"You are insolent, but also bold and, dare I say it, wise. You speak the truth, Damaris de Montfort." There was a shimmer in the air like that of a smithy's forge, and the dragon seemed to become blurred, as though she was looking at him through eyes too tired to focus. Then, where that just a moment ago sat many tonnes of dragon, there stood a handsome and very much human male, dressed in red silk fineries. The thunderclap that accompanied the transformation nearly pulled Damaris off her feet as the air rushed in to fill the space so recently vacated by the dragon's bulk.
"You may cross freely," he said, his voice no longer so loud or so powerful as to make her ears ring. The figure turned and rose, gracefully and effortlessly, through the air and up to the mouth of the cave at the mountain's summit. Still hesitant, wary of being tricked by a capricious dragon, Damaris started to follow, crossing the rope bridge with great care before making her way up the scree-covered path to the dragon's home.