Dragon Slayer Page #17

---

GALEN:

I can't.

VALERIAN:

Then get the animals back. They're

all running loose. There's people

been hurt. Stop their pain. You can

cure them. And we'll need food...

GALEN:

I can't do it.

VALERIAN:

(this stops her)

What? Why not?

Galen's hand moves up to where the amulet used to hang.

GALEN:

I just can't.

VALERIAN:

But you're a sorcerer.

GALEN:

I'm no sorcerer. Whatever power I

might have had, it's gone.

VALERIAN:

It can't be!

GALEN:

I know:
I'm an imposter. A fraud. A

fake. I'm sorry...

For a moment, Valerian is too stunned to speak. Then her

face colors.

VALERIAN:

You're sorry?! Listen to that! The

damn thing is loose, we're all on

fire and you're sorry!

Galen sinks to the floor and sits in the ashes.

VALERIAN:

You didn't have the faintest idea

what you were doing, did you? You're

a fool -- and I'm a bigger one for

bringing you here.

She snatches up a pitchfork and glowers at him.

VALERIAN:

I don't want you in this house. Get

out.

But Galen still sits there like a puppet with its strings

cut, every dream of glory utterly crushed. This piteous sight

touches Valerian's heart. Her gaze softens. She slowly lowers

the pitchfork.

FADE OUT:

FADE IN:

TOWN SQUARE - DAY

A knot of villagers lead Tyrian and his henchmen across the

square directly to the blacksmith's shop. The King's men

dismount and pound on the door. It swings open. Valerian is

standing there.

TYRIAN:

Where is he?

VALERIAN:

Not here. I can't help you.

A cry goes up from the villagers. They know damn well he's

in there.

VALERIAN'S HOUSE

Tyrian pushes Valerian aside and steps into the room. Aided

by some townfolk, his men proceed to ransack the premises,

overturning barrels, sticking their swords through flour

sacks, poking through the tumbledown thatch. Valerian's eye

falls on Malkin, who has involved himself in the search.

VALERIAN:

You too?

MALKIN:

(returning her look)

Damn right.

Finding nothing, the group pushes into the metal shop, where

Simon is hammering an iron wheel rim back into shape on an

enormous anvil. He lays down his tools and grimly watches

the men go through, overturning benches and tables. Tyrian

props a leg up on the anvil and addresses himself to Simon.

TYRIAN:

As the proud new father of an eligible

daughter who was some-how overlooked

all these years, it may interest you

to know that the King has called for

a new lottery.

SIMON:

But it's months til the solstice.

TYRIAN:

In view of what's happened, we all

know what's required.

SIMON:

I've never taken part in your cursed

lottery, and I'll have nothing to do

with it now.

TYRIAN:

You were very clever. But she'll

take part, like all the rest. No

exceptions.

The search party has exhausted the room's hiding places.

HENCHMAN:

Nothing. If he was here, he's gone

now.

Tyrian nods and leads the way out. Simon catches up and pulls

Tyrian aside at the door.

SIMON:

All right. I know what you want. How

much?

TYRIAN:

Are you offering me a bribe?

SIMON:

Yes.

TYRIAN:

Don't waste your time.

(pause)

You could never afford it.

He spins on his heel and joins his men as they ride out of

town. Valerian and Simon watch them go. When the riders are

out of sight, they return to the shop. With a couple of stout

poles, they strain to lift the anvil off its base. Finally

it topples over. Valerian slides the base aside, revealing a

trap door. She raises it and a cramped Galen unfolds himself

from the space below. On his face is a curious look of

determination.

GALEN:

Smith -- have you ever forged a

weapon?

WEAPONS:

Simon is going through a cabinet, tossing out hoes, rakes,

sickles, scythes, plow blades, and a knife or two. Galen

examines them doubtfully. Now Simon produces an armload of

swords. Galen is impressed; he looks them over carefully,

testing and rejecting them in turn.

Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote