Vaughn Skagg distracted himself by imagining all the things he could buy with his dragon hunt earnings. A blade with an ice enchantment. No, a fire-enchanted dagger. Perhaps a cloak of gliding. Why, he could even hire a journeyman mage as a business associate and traveling companion. But if he was realistic he needed a steed of his own.

At eighteen summers, a world of opportunity lay spread before him like the spilled contents of a toppled treasure chest. But above all the trinkets and weapons, a steaming hot plate of red mountain goat mutton and a drink of cold South dwarven ale sounded best. But that all hinged on the Blueback being in its cavern lair.

But no need to work himself into a frenzy about what could happen. Thus far, everything was going better than he’d hoped. Why worry about provoking a four-story tall wild animal and getting one’s head burnt to a crisp? He could handle it. That’s what the dragon nip was for. He patted the small satchel hanging from his belt.

Val and his borrowed horse led the prince’s party through the mossy redwoods and toward the Blueback’s lair. He felt sorry for the dragon, really. It was an innocent beast that had never hurt anyone. But Prince Ectar promised a handsome sum to anyone who could lead him to the dragon’s whereabouts. And so Val led the way. He could practically feel his teeth sinking into steaming hot mutton now.

Sunbeams shot through the trees. Birds glided through the air, and a breeze blew about. It smelled of earth and moss and dead leaves. But Val’s focus was drawn to the Lady Isilda, the crown princess of a neighboring kingdom. Lady Isilda was much more beautiful than this day could ever be. But no, he should not dwell on her. Not on her bronze skin or her silvery hair. And definitely not her long elven ears. Ahh. He was doing it again.

Don’t gawk, you fool. He’d have ample opportunity to talk to her. Once he brought the hunting party to the cavern where the Blueback dwelt, the party would, really, no longer have need of him. The lady and he would be the only other ones left outside.

Why had the prince even brought her along? But he knew why. This was all a show for the princess. Prince Ectar was the seventh suitor to court Princess Isilda, and he did not want to lose her to another. Rumor had it that Ectar did not even allow any of his retinue to address or converse with the princess of their own accord. She was a trophy. Of course, the dragon hunt also gave the prince opportunity to exert his dominance over a savage beast. Val tightened his grip on the reins of his horse. Ectar was the true savage.

“Something wrong?” asked the prince’s head guard and closest confidant, Captain Thack.

Val realized his own eyebrows were drawn together tight. “We’re close,” he said. Soon they were at the large opening to the cavern. A foul stench filled the air.

“What’s that horrible smell?” asked Prince Ectar.

“See that pile of rocks?” said Val. “Those aren’t rocks.”

The prince gagged, and several of his guards chuckled at his expense.

Look at him, thought Val. That pretty boy—elf ancestry, no doubt, like most royalty—sitting there atop his pegasus steed in his unblemished, oversized armor. Wearing a sword never drawn from its scabbard. “Sorry, Your Highness,” said Val. “I know royalty don’t have bowel movements, but for us lowly creatures, it’s identified by its foul odor.”

Stifled snickering burst from the guards.

“Enough,” growled Captain Thack.

“No, no,” said the prince. “All in good jest. At least we know it’s here.”

Val produced a small drawstring bag of herbs and handed it to the prince. “This is the dragon nip.”

“You’re sure it will work?” asked Prince Ectar.

“They’re addicted to the stuff. And seeing that this is my own special concoction, it’ll work better than whatever you could find growing wild in a forest,” he said. Then, holding his nose, he added, “I’m going to move upwind if you don’t mind, Your Highness.”

“Certainly,” said the prince. “Thack, pay the man.”

On command, Thack produced a jingling bag of coins. Val resisted the urge to take it then and there and held up his hand in protest. “Oh, I couldn’t now. You haven’t even begun the hunt.”

“Fair enough,” said the prince. Thack put the coin back into his cloak, and Val made an effort not to flinch.

The prince dismounted his pegasus, and his men got off their horses, drew swords and spears, and donned shields. They steered the cage on the cart to the front of the cave and opened the cell door, laying a hunk of raw meat inside, setting the trap. Looking to Isilda he said, “I’ll earn the title dragon slayer by sunset, and return to you with a magnificent Blueback to behead and mount on my wall.”

She cringed. “What purpose would a severed head serve?” Her skin paled.

“A memorial to my victory, of course.”

She grimaced like she smelled something more foul than the dragon dung outside the cave. “Am I to stay out here then?”

Ectar’s eyebrows furrowed. “A princess assist in a dragon-slaying quest?” He flashed his perfect teeth. “You’re as amusing as you are pretty.”

Isilda’s back stiffened and her eyes narrowed slightly. Before she could retort, Ectar turned to Val. “Are you not joining us?”

Val could barely contain his disdain. Apparently the prince’s overprotection of the princess was placed on hold when opportunities to gallivant arose. Val bit his tongue, restraining what he wanted to say. “I’m a dragon tracker. The slaying of the beast is for your satisfaction.”

The prince shook his head. “Suit yourself. I wouldn’t want to force you or the princess to do something that requires a man’s bravery.” He chuckled at his own snub.

Thack guffawed louder than necessary. “Good one, Sire. Quite the singe, if I do say so.” The men joined in, too late for their laughter to be authentic.

Val shrugged it off, as if the slight meant no offense to him. And for what the prince promised to pay him, he could swallow his pride for the day.

The hunting party lit torches and proceeded into the cave. Soon, they would return with a dragon head to mount in the prince’s wall. Val could practically see the gleaming pile of coins. His lips parted in a toothy grin.

Some called him a ranger. Others thought of him as a hunter. But Val liked to think of himself as a dragon tracker. He had realized this subtle change in words could open up a whole new world of opportunity for him. Anyone could be a hunter. So what if you were a half-elf ranger? You could barely visit a decent tavern without bumping into a brooding half-elf ranger. But not many sold themselves as dragon trackers. And it was this distinction that would put Val ahead of the game and make him a good deal of money. He was still amazed at himself for talking his way into the employ of the Prince Ectar. As long as this job went well, who knew who he’d be working for next? Plus Val could raise his prices a considerable amount.

Val moved his horse next to the lady under the shade of a weeping willow. He hopped down from his horse and bowed low to her with a big grin. “My lady.”

She graced him with a smile. “Thank you for leading us on such a pleasant ride, Sir Skagg. It was quite nice.”

“You’re welcome. Please, call me Val. I wouldn’t ever claim to be a knight.” Where the prince flaunted his vanity, she deserved to be atop a noble steed. Like the pegasus, her unearthly beauty could have only come down from the heavens.

The lady dismounted from her pegasus.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable off the steed?” asked Val. “Suppose the prince and his men—fine warriors though they are—don’t capture the beast and it rushes outside.”

“Then I’ll do what I must when the time comes.”

Val smirked. He liked Isilda. She had fire in her. Up close, her elven features only heightened her beauty. “Does the prince always leave you in danger, or just when he’s brash?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Personally, I would not leave a beautiful maiden to fend for herself in the event the dragon escapes the trap.”

“Perhaps he trusted you are capable.”

“Oh, my competence is without question. I’m a dragon tracker after all. And I’m the best sword wielder in my village.” As soon as he said it he felt like a jester.

She turned away and said, “Draw your sword then, Master Vaughn.”

“What?”

“Let’s see how skilled your village is.”

Val drew his sword reluctantly. “I don’t know, my Lady. Suppose the prince returns and sees—”

“Am I too imposing of an enemy for you? Are you afraid?”

Val looked for some kind of sign that the princess was joking but she looked on apathetically, as if she did these sorts of things often. Isilda produced a short blade from her saddle and swung at Val, who blocked it just in time with his own blade. The clang of metal echoed in the forest.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, caught off guard.

She pushed him back with swing after swing. He could tell she was not really trying to hurt him, but neither did she hold back. While Val was the best in his village, he did not know how his village compared to the outside world. His true confidence lay behind the bow and arrow. Soon she had him pinned against the willow tree, the blade at his neck. He smiled warily.

“You were going easy on me,” she said scowling.

I was actually doing my best not to get cut, he thought. But he said, “I’m glad Ectar didn’t witness that.”

She backed off. “I wish he had. Perhaps he’d see past the benefits of marrying me and stop trying to impress me with false bravado.”

“Agreed. He didn’t have to drag you all the way out here. That regal brute could have regaled you with pompous tales of his greatness back at the castle.”

Her face grew stern again. “You should not speak of my suitor that way.”

Val stood still, eyes wide. Up until this point, he thought Prince Ectar held no special place in the princess’s heart, like the previous six suitors. “Do you love him?” he asked, regretting the words instantly. But to his surprise, she answered.

“My elder sister is learning to love her new king. These last few years were hard for her, but over time I will do the same.”

He squinted at her. “Royalty,” he sighed. “I’ll never understand. I guess there is a cost to all that power.”

“How so?”

“While you’re free to do almost anything, you’re also a slave to the people, both highborn and low. You are expected to marry a noble with not much say in who he is.”

“Oh, I’ve had plenty say thus far.”

Val pursed his lips. “True. But still, there aren’t many to go around. Me? I can marry anyone I want.”

“And have you?”

“Well…” Val coughed and cleared his throat. He waved a hand, forcing a smile. “I haven’t found the right woman yet.”

“Of course not,” she giggled.

Val would have retorted, but a screech pierced the air. The horses and pegasus whinnied, pawing the ground. Isilda gasped, pointing above the tree line. Val caught a glimpse of sapphire wings in the air. “The dragon’s not in the cave,” he said, dry-mouthed.