Story Challenge, Day 2

So here is the result for day 2 of my story challenge. Not as happy with this one as I was with yesterday's story, but that's how it goes sometimes (especially when you're trying to knock out a new short story every day). So we adjust fire and hope for better things tomorrow. At any rate, here is the story:

Sir George, Dragon Slayer

 
“Sir George, thank the Gods that you are here! Everyone is waiting at the town hall.”
 
Sir George got down off his horse, his armor shining in the bright sunlight. He followed the townsman into the hall. The building was packed with people – it seemed like the whole town had gathered to meet him. Thrusting out his chest, he strode boldly down the middle of the hall, occasionally pausing so that everyone could get a good look at him.
 
“Well met, Sir George. I am Mayor Landon. We are in dire need of your aid.”
 
“But of course you are. I understand that you have yourselves a dragon problem?”
 
“We do, indeed.”
 
“He burned half our fields!” someone in the crowd shouted.
 
“He’ll kill us all!!” someone else shouted.
 
So many people began shouting at once at this point that it was nearly impossible to make out what any of them were saying.
 
“Good people, good people!” Sir George shouted over the crowd, until the townsfolk had mostly calmed down. “There is nothing to fear. Your mayor has wisely hired me, Sir George of Dunpree, to deal with your dragon problem. Rest assured, your town is safe in my hands.” He turned back to the mayor. “I take it you have the agreed upon sum?”
 
“It is an awfully lot,” the mayor replied. “We were sort of hoping –”
 
“My good mayor, quality dragon slaying is an expensive business. I would hate to think that you would risk the safety of your village over a few paltry hundred gold coins.”
 
The mayor grit his teeth; as much as he hated to admit it, he knew he had little choice but to accept the knight’s terms. “It almost cleans out the town treasury, but we have your gold.”
 
“Good man. Now as agreed that will be half up front, of course.”
 
“Yes, of course.”
 
The mayor reluctantly handed over the gold, and Sir George strode out of the town hall. Climbing back up onto his horse, he rode out of town, head held high, the townsfolk cheering him on as him he went. While he certainly had a fondness for gold, in many ways the best part of what he did was the adoration of the simple peasants as he made their towns safe from beasts and monsters. What more could a simple knight ask for in life?
 
Before accepting the job, he had sent several of his men to scout the area, and they had managed to track the dragon to a cave in the mountains north of the village. It would likely take him a good two days to get there. But the weather was warm and there were good trails for most of the way, and so he was able to reach the vicinity of the dragon’s lair with little difficulty by the middle of the next day.
 
“Sir George, we’ve got camp all set up.” One of Sir George’s men was waiting for him on the main trail through that part of the woods. He followed the man off the trail, traveling another hour or so until they reached camp, where the rest of his men were waiting.
 
“Any news of our dastardly foe?”
 
“He is in his cave, Sir George. Returned to it a couple hours past.”
 
“Excellent, excellent. And all of the gear is prepared?”
 
“It is.”
 
“In that case, once I have had a good meal and a bit of a rest, we will proceed.”
 
After Sir George had eaten and napped, the men gathered up their gear and the group hiked north. They had set up their camp a few hours hike away from the dragon’s lair (with scouts taking regular shifts nearer the cave to keep track of the dragon’s comings and goings), to lessen the likelihood of being discovered. By the time they were in sight of the cave, it was nearly dusk. The men hid themselves in the trees with their gear, while Sir George drew his sword and marched boldly forth into the clearing in front of the dragon’s cave.
 
“Dragon, come forth, you foul beast!” Sir George called out. “Come meet your death at the hands of Sir George, Dragon Slayer!” He banged his sword against his shield. When there was no response, he nodded to one of his men.
 
The man reached into a large sack and pulled out a pointed wooden tube tied to a stick. The foreign alchemist that Sir George had bought it from had called it a “fire work”, which was a good enough description for Sir George. His man stuck the stick into the ground, the top of the tube pointed towards the entrance of the dragon’s cave. Then, using his flint, he lit the short piece of string that hung down from the bottom of it. The was a brief flash as this ignited, and the man quickly stepped back. A moment later the fire work short forward through the air, exploding in a shower of colored sparks in the entrance of the cave.
 
A moment later the dragon poked his head out, looking around in annoyance. When he saw Sir George, he opened his mouth and exhaled a column of flame at him. But the knight was prepared for this, and raised his shield. The enchanter had charged him a pretty penny for it, but it was well worth it to have a shield that was completely resistant to dragon fire.
 
“Ha! Is that the best you can do, beast? Clearly empty fields and defenseless villagers are more in your league. Why not give it another go?”
 
The dragon, clearly angry now, rose up above the knight, its wings flaring out from its body.
 
“Now men!”
 
Two of Sir George’s men stepped out of the shadows of the trees, each holding a barbed harpoon in his hand. They threw with expert precision, each harpoon piercing one of the dragon’s wings. Attached to each harpoon was a thick rope (also enchanted against dragon fire – this wasn’t Sir George’s first such battle) that was anchored to the ground.
 
The dragon roared in pain, pulling hard against the ropes. But the barbed tips of the harpoons were firmly snagged in the skin of his wings, and their anchors were fixed firmly in the ground.
 
“Excellent men, good show!”
 
Now it was Sir George’s turn. Sheathing his sword, he picked up a long iron javelin. This was his prized possession, one that had killed more than a few monsters. Hefting it with one hand, he took careful aim. The dragon realized – too late – that fighting against the harpoons and ignoring the knight had been a mistake. He tried to correct this, diving towards the knight, claws extended, but the javelin had already left the knight’s hand. A moment later it was buried deep in the dragon’s chest.
 
Sir George raised his shield once more as the dragon crashed against him. Although he was knocked to the ground, the shield protected him from the dragon’s claws. Getting back to his feet, he smiled brightly as he looked down at the dragon lying in a crumpled heap on the ground in front of him. The dragon tried feebly to rise, but the fight was gone from him. Sir George boldly walked forward, grabbing hold of his javelin and jerking it from the dragon’s body. Blood spurted from the wound, soaking the ground.
 
“You are bested, dragon. But do not feel too badly for it. For you have been bested by Sir George, Dragon Slayer! Come men, we have a reward to claim! Cedric, don’t forget the claw.”
 
Sir George’s men forcibly removed the harpoons from the dragon’s wings and gathered the rest of their gear. One of the men – a big, burly brute – came forward with a massive battle axe, which he used to chop off one of the dragon’s claws (Sir George had long ago made the decision that a claw is much easier to remove and carry as proof of the kill than trying to hack off the dragon’s head). They returned to their camp for the night, ready to head back to the village the next morning.

*************

The dragon could feel the life blood steadily pumping from his body. He slowly crawled back into his cave to die. Part of him still couldn’t believe it had really happened. After all the many, many decades he had been alive (not an incredibly long time by dragon standards, but a decent number of years nonetheless), to be felled by such a pompous ass of a human was almost humiliating. Maybe he shouldn’t have had so much fun at the humans’ expense after all.