Dragon Slayer Page #4

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ULRICH:

You're not ready.

GALEN:

I'm ready for anything.

ULRICH:

(wan smile)

Don't be so hasty. Your time will

come.

The walkers are ready to set forth. Hodge picks up his pack,

steps forward and pulls open the great gate.

HORSEMEN:

Three mounted men are outside the gate, helmets on their

heads, swords on the belts and longbows across their

shoulders. They look formidable. The Urlanders take a step

backward.

VALERIAN:

Tyrian!?

Tyrian is a lean, heavily bearded nobleman. There is a coat

of arms on the shield strapped to the pommel of his saddle.

TYRIAN:

(amiable)

Good morning, all.

VALERIAN:

We're not afraid of you. Give us the

road.

TYRIAN:

Why, the road is yours. All the way

to Urland. It's a long journey, isn't

it? But when you're in search of a

sorcerer, I suppose no distance is

too great.

Sensing trouble, Galen moves forward. Ulrich touches his

arm.

ULRICH:

(under his breath)

Say nothing.

Galen hears the urgency in the old man's voice and obeys.

Hodge takes it upon himself to deal with the strangers.

HODGE:

What do you want with us?

TYRIAN:

Well, like my good friends here,

I've come for a bit of black magic.

No doubt you've heard of our troubles

at home. This is Cragganmore, is it

not?

HODGE:

Aye, this be the place of Ulrich.

Tyrian dismounts and saunters up to the old magician.

TYRIAN:

And here we have the mystical presence

himself, no?

HODGE:

You'd best keep your distance -- and

your manners.

TYRIAN:

If he's ready to lay a dragon in its

grave, he's got nothing to fear from

me.

(turns to the Urlanders)

I've no more love for that creature

than you lot. Nor has the King. But,

before you stir things up, don't you

think it a good idea to see you've

got the right man for the job?

HODGE:

Aha -- it's a test you're looking

for. We don't do tests.

TYRIAN:

I'm sure you don't. They never do

tests -- and not many real deeds

either. Oh, conversation with your

grandmother's shade in a darkened

room, the odd love potion or two...

but comes a doubter, well then, it's

the wrong day, the planets are not

aligned, the entrails aren't

favorable, we don't do tests.

VALERIAN:

We've got no doubts. We require no

test.

HODGE:

And you're not going to get one.

When Ulrich finally speaks, his voice is low and

authoritative.

ULRICH:

(to Galen)

Go to the conjuring room. The iron

box. Fetch me the dagger within.

Galen's eyes widen with alarm.

ULRICH:

The dagger. Be quick.

Galen dashes into the castle. Ulrich gazes almost shyly at

Tyrian.

ULRICH:

You shall have your test.

CONJURING ROOM:

Galen comes puffing up the steps, locates the iron box, and

flings it open. Amidst the tawdry paraphernalia of a

professional magician is an ivory-handled dagger covered

with runic inscriptions. Galen eagerly examines it to see

how the blade might twist aside or collapse into the handle,

but it is all too genuine. A murder weapon.

ULRICH'S VOICE

(impatient)

Where are you, boy? I'm waiting.

Galen throws open a window and looks down into the courtyard.

He displays the dagger.

GALEN:

Not this one, was it?

ULRICH:

The very one. Let it fall.

Galen hesitates, then tosses it. Tumbling end over end, it

arcs downward. The old conjurer calmly stretches out a hand

and plucks it neatly out of the air. Galen watches as Ulrich

passes the weapon to Tyrian and strips back his robe exposing

a bony chest. Galen knows what's coming. He rushes for the

door. He's only a step away when it bangs shut of its own

accord. He sprints for a second exit. Whack! This door slams

shut too. Locked in. Quick, back to the window and climb

down the vine... Smack! the heavy shutters seal him in.

ULRICH AND TYRIAN

Ulrich takes Tyrian's arm and guides the point of the dagger

to his breastbone.

ULRICH:

Vita regula, vita hieratica!

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