This is my entry for volume 7 of the Fantasy Anthology.

On The Wings Of Shadows

Forlorn Hope by Ian Reeve.    3282 words.

     A solemn prcession of people left the city, passing through the gates without a word. They walked along the Dragon's Road, which led for several miles through a forest of burned, blackened trees, to the dragon's lair. The woman they dragged along with them screamed and struggled, begged and pleaded, but the men kept a tight hold of her arms, turning their faces away from her as if ashamed. They avoided looking at each other as if afraid of seeing their own cowardice reflected in another person's eyes.

     The lair of the dragon was a great hole the creature had dug in the ground, going almost vertically downwards. The sides were made of black glass where the creature's fiery breath had melted and fused the earth and a coil of white smoke drifted lazily upwards into the clear, blue sky. The smoke was the sign that the creature had awakened and would soon be coming out in search of food. Pieces of litter lay on the ground; food wrappings and broken chairs. Left by children that had dared each other to come here while the dragon had still been fully asleep. It had been easy to slip past the guards, who had been too busy playing cards and swapping bawdy jokes to keep a proper watch.

     The leader of the men from the city stepped carefully past a half-melted steel helmet left by one of the soldiers that had tried to take the creature by surprise while it was sleeping. He checked the thick stone pillar to make sure it was still solid and secure, then beckoned the others to bring the woman forward. She screamed as they manacled her to the pilllar, her arms held high above her head by thick chains of heavy steel. She begged again as they unfastened her gown and pulled it away, leaving her naked, her skin covered in goosebumps in the cold, morning air.

     "Abigail Cowen," the leader of the men said to her in a low voice. His eyes were fixed on the bridge of her nose as if he were reluctant to look her in the eyes. "By your sacrifice the people of Cravenhill are kept safe from the fury of the beast. We will show our gratitude by..."

     "Shove your gratitude up your arse!" the woman screamed at him. "Damn you and damn the whole city!"

     "Shut her up!" another man hissed fearfully. "She'll bring the beast."

     His leader looked ashamed rather than afraid, though. His eyes dropped momentarily to his feet, but he stood his ground and made himself look back at her face. "We will show our gratitude by seeing that your family is looked after. They will want for nothing and your name will be remembered with honour."

     "Shove your honour up your arse! Shove the whole city up your arse!"

     The man dropped his eyes again and walked away, to where the others were waiting. Then they turned and began walking with some haste back to the city, leaving the woman alone in front of the dragon's den.

     Alone except for one man.

     It took the woman a minute or two to realise he was there. She struggled against the chains that held her wrists above her head. She tried to pull her hands through the narrow bands of steel. She pushed against the pillar as if expecting it to topple over but it was as solid and firm as the base of a mountain. Finally she gave up and just hung there, her knees bent, her feet black with soot, as she cried in terror and despair.

     "I'm sorry," said a voice. "I'd let you go if I could, but they took the key with them."

     It took the words a few moments to filter through the black despair that filled the woman's head, but then she opened her eyes to see a soldier standing beside her. He was in dress uniform, as if he was about to be given a medal by the Mayor, and the spear he was holding was brand new without a single scratch in the varnished wooden shaft and without a single nick in the steel tip. His helmet had a crest of scarlet-dyed horse hair and his polished armour gleamed and shone in the light of the rising sun. He was holding a shield coated with iron on which a white cross had been painted on a blue background. 

     "There's no way I can break those chains," he said, his voice sad and apologetic, "and you'd need a team of horses to topple the pillar. I suppose I could cut off your hands but I have nothing to stop the bleeding with. You'd bleed to death. And even if you survived, no man would marry you. You'd have to live as a beggar. I'll do it if you decide it's still preferable to death, but..."

     "If that's the only way, I'd rather die here," the woman replied.

     The soldier nodded. "I'd probably feel the same way," he said. "In fact I do. That's why I'm here."

     "Who are you? Why are you here?"

     "My name's Harry Price. I'm here to regain my honour."

     She gave a humourless, barking laugh. "Honour? There's no honour in that cesspit of a city. All the decent people left ages ago." She laughed again. "I'd have gone too. Left my useless husband. My ungrateful children, but I never thought they'd pick me. I never thought I was the prettiest woman in the city."

     "I suppose everyone they pick thanks that. Otherwise everyone would leave. The city would be empty."

     "Then the dragon would just find another city to prey on. The other cities pay Cravenhill a fortune to make parents with daughters want to stay. That's what kept my father there all these years, and then my husband after him. They were willing to risk me being chosen in exchange for the handouts, the bastards. And to think I thought they loved me. What they really loved was the money."

     "I have a sister," the soldier admitted. "But she's not good looking. I love her and even I know that. Otherwise I'd have taken her away years ago. She's safe."

     "You keep telling yourself that," said the woman bitterly. "That's what every father, every brother, every husband tells themselves. And yet every month someone has to be chosen. I must be the best of what's left."

     "Don't put yourself down. Not here, not now."

     She laughed again. "Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked. "Do you think I'm the prettiest woman in the city?"

     "I don't know." The soldier mumbled to himself.

     "Why don't you look at me?"

     "You're... You're..."

     "Naked? You think that bothers me right now? Look at me." When he still hesitated she shouted at him. "Look at me, dammit!"

     He turned his head towards her and took a quick glance before looking away again, but then he looked again, this time taking a longer look, his eyes wide with shock. "You're... You're not... I mean, yes, you're pretty. Of course you are."

     "I'm not, though, am I? About the same as your sister, maybe? Big nose. Wide mouth. Sagging belly. One boob bigger than the other. Between me and your sister, how big is the difference?"

     "Maybe I'll kill it. Maybe I'll get lucky."

     This time her laughter was scornful. "You know how many men have tried? Some tried to sneak in while it was asleep. Turns out it's a real light sleeper."

     He gripped his spear tighter. "I might still get lucky," he said.

     "So what did you do? You're a Forlorn Hope, right?"

     "I'm surprised you've heard the expression."

     "You said you're here to regain your honour. That's what a Forlorn Hope's for, right? You do something brave, something suicidally dangerous, and if you succeed your honour is restored. So what did you do? What could possibly be so bad that only facing a dragon will exonerate you?"

     He turned away from her and paced back and forth across the sooty ground for a few moments. "Might as well tell you," he said at last. "We're going to be dead in a few minutes. You know the battle of Hakesford?"

     "Heard some drunken soldiers talking about it a few nights ago. It didn't go well, I take it."

     "We got routed. I was an officer. Captain Price. They said it was because I was a coward. I pulled my company back instead of pushing forward. They said that if I had pushed forward we'd have won the battle."

     "Is that true?"

     "If I'd pushed forward we'd all have been killed. Probably."

     "So they called you a coward, but if you can kill the dragon your honour will be restored." She gave a scornful laugh. "Honour. The stupidest idea ever invented by the mind of man."

     "It's not just me," the soldier told her defensively. "My whole family was dishonoured. My father is the father of a coward. My children are the sons of a coward. But if I face the dragon the family honour will be restored whether I live or die."

     "You don't have to die here. You could just run away. They'll think the dragon ate you. You could make a new life for yourself far, far away from this horrible place."

     "I can't run away."

     "Why not? Because of honour? The people you're trying to impress are driving you to commit suicide. You don't owe them anything."

     "I'm not a coward."

     "I'm not the one saying you are."

     "If I'd pushed forward in the battle we'd all have been killed. I am responsible for the men under my command, for their lives. They trusted me not to throw them away. Not to just spend them uselessly in a futile gesture. I did the right thing."

     "I wasn't there. I can't say if it was right or not."

    "And now my family needs me to be here. I can't let my sons live in disgrace. They'll throw their lives away in some futile gesture to prove they're not cowards. I have to protect them from that."

     "You could still just run away. No-one would know."

     "I'd know."

     She stared at him in sudden crazed amusement. "You did chicken out, didn't you?"

     He turned on her angrily. "If we'd pushed forward..."

     "You might have won the battle, and you know that. You believe it. That's why you're still here, right? You don't want to prove your courage to anyone else. You want to prove it to yourself."

     "I'm not a coward and I'll prove it. I'll prove it when I thrust this spear right into that beast's black heart. I'll prove it when I kick out one of its teeth and carry it back to the city."

     "Or die trying."

     "Or die trying."

     A gust of wind blew the woman's hair across her face. She tossed her head to throw it back. "You're an idiot," she said. "I'm going to die with an idiot."

     "You should be hoping I'll win. If I kill the thing, you'll live. You'll get to go home to your family."

     "Of course I'm hoping you'll win, but you won't..."

     She was interrupted by a long, low rumble that came from deep within rhe dragon's lair. The ground shook under their feet as she froze in terror and a billow of white smoke rose from the shaft along with a blast of heat. "It's coming," she whispered, her face going white. "Great god above it's coming." She pulled at her manacled wrists but the black iron was implacable and held onto her hands mercilessly.

     The soldier raised his spear and aimed it at the gaping shaft, his breath coming in short little gasps. His knuckles were white where he gripped the polished wood. "God give me strength," he whispered as he crouched down behind his shield as if he were hiding behind it. His whole body was shaking and he took a step back away from the shaft, then another. He looked around as if to check whether there was anyone watching him.

     The sound died away, though, and silence fell again. The cloud of smoke rose up into the still morning air, spreading and dissipating, until it was lost in the golden rays of the rising sun. "Why won't it come?" the woman asked. "Why won't it just get it over with?" She raised her voice and shouted. "Just get it over with, damn you!"

     "Why give it women anyway?" asked the soldier, standing again. "Why not give it a convicted criminal? God knows there are enough of them in the dungeons."

     "You're new here, are you?" The woman asked.

     "I come from Cranwell," he replied. "I was posted here two years ago. I'd heard of the dragon, of course. The whole Kingdom has, but I didn't know much about it."

     "They tried giving it a criminal," she told him. "A murderer. The old stories said that a dragon might spare a city if it was offered a sacrifice. And so with half the city still in ruins from its first visit they chained a man up, right where I am now. The creature ignored him and set the other half of the city in flames. A month later the next offering was an adulteress, a Baron's wife who'd been caught with the weapons master. This time the dragon took her and so it's been a woman ever since. And it has to be an adult woman. They tried chaining up a fourteen year old one time. I was about the same age at the time. The creature didn't harm a hair on her head, but it did lay waste to the river district of the city that they'd just finished rebuilding. The poor girl was never the same, of course. Shs must have seen the beast right up close as it went past her."

     "Did you see it?" asked the soldier.

     "Aye, I did," the woman replied. She shuddered at the memory. "When we learned the girl had been passed over my father took me to the cellars, as if that would have saved us if it had known we were there. I saw it as it flew overhead, blasting the city with gusts of air with every beat of its wings. When it roared its voice made the whole city shake and made people put their hands to their ears. Grown men fell to their knees and wept with terror. Then we reached the cellar and my father slammed the great stone door closed but it must have breathed fire somewhere nearby because a gust of heat blew in through the crack, hot enough to singe my hair and dry out the skin of my face."

     She looked at the soldier and there was awe and wonder in her eyes. "It wasn't like a living creature, like a horse or a cow. Not even like a stampede of cattle. It was more like a storm, like wind-tossed waves crashing against cliffs. It was like the wrath of God himself. When something like that comes there's nothing you can do to stop it. All you can do is hide or run away." She laughed, sounding as if she was already half mad with fear. "And you think you can kill it with that stupid little spear."

     Before the soldier could reply the ground shook again and another rumble of sound came echoing up from the shaft. He spun around to face it and crouched down behind his shield again, and this time he was shaking more than before. He took his helmet off and ran a trembling hand across his brow. He glanced across at the chained woman, then looked around at the burned and blackened trees. "God give me strength," he whispered to himself. "God give me courage."

     More sounds came from the shaft, the sound of something massive climbing its way up. The woman struggled against her chains, as uselessly as before. "Cuf my hands off," she begged. "Please, cut my hands off." She pulled at them as if she could tear them through the circles of black steel, as if she was willing to strip away the skin and crush the bones to do so. Blood ran down her pale arms and splattered on her face. "Please! Please!"

     Another billow of smoke rose from the shaft, suddenly driven upwards by a blast of hot air from below. Thunderous vibrations shook the ground. Then, from the shaft, a dreadful shape rose. A great head the size of a horse, shimmering with heat. Horns curved back from above its eyes and scarlet tendrils dangled under the hinge of its jaws. Yellow slitted eyes looked around and fixed greedily on the slender, white body of the naked woman. She made herself meet its gaze as fearlessly as she could although her knees were shaking with terror. If not for the chains holding her arms above her head she would have collapsed to the ground.

     The soldier braced himself, visibly struggling to gather his courage. He raised his spear and the giant head turned to look at him. The soldier stared back, his eyes going wide, and the tip of his spear wobbled and dropped as his grip on it weakened. He stood as if hypnotised, as if he'd been turned to stone, his face white and his eyes staring. Then the dragon's jaws opened and its fetid breath washed out reeking of sulphur and rotting meat. Something inside the soldier snapped and, dropping his spear and shield, he ran, almost tripping over his own feet as he spun around and staggered into the blackened trees with sobs of horror and shame.

     The woman watched him go in disbelief. "You coward!" she screamed after him. "God damn you to hell you coward!" Then he had vanished from sight, though, with only the distant clattering of his armour to tell which way he had gone.

     The woman forgot about him and turned her attention back to the shaft. "Come and get me then, ya bastard," she spat. "Come and get me."

     The head rose higher on the end of a long, serpentine neck and then a scaly forelimb appeared, each digit tipped with a claw as long as a sword. Shoulders appeared and wings spread wide as the creature stretched the sleep from its bones. The thing was red and black, magnificent and beautiful, and the woman felt a moment of insane pride that she was about to be killed by it. "Look at you, you beauty," she whispered as it crawled the rest of the way out, its long tail whipping up to wave behind it, fins and strakes waving like pennants from the walls of a castle. "What a beauty you are."

     It stepped forward on its four titanic legs, its wings folding flat against its back. It lowered its head to inspect the woman, its eyes squinting critically, and its nostrils opened as it drank in the scent of her. It hesitated as if torn with indecision.

     The woman laughed with madness born from terror. "What, I'm not pretty enough for you?" she demanded furiously. "Don't you dare turn your nose up at me. Don't you dare, you hear me?"

     The creature regarded her for a moment longer, and then its jaws parted, giving the woman a view past the long, ivory teeth to a wide, leathery throat. How many people have seen a sight such as that? she marvelled as it was lit from below by rising flames. Then everything went white and the world turned into fire and pain.