"Green Dragon Inn" by Alicia Hansen

Green Dragon Inn

I had been ready to crawl under a bush to sleep before I stumbled upon the Green Dragon Inn. I rode my warhorse into the small city I came upon. The streets were dark and a sliver of the moon shone in the sky.  Wispy clouds hid the sea of stars under shades of deep gray. The moon’s light gave little to see by, but I could see well enough. I picked up the scent of other weary men, many horses, families’ dinners, smoky fires, even the fetid stench of farm animals further away. And my follower. My large black warhorse whickered as I pulled him to a stop in front of the Green Dragon Inn and swung down. A simply wooden sign hung by the door, with a crude shape of green drawn upon it. I figured it was supposed to be a dragon. I looked the inn over carefully, cautiously. Raucous laughter came from behind the closed doors, the stench of ale strong. I pushed my black horse away, he would let no one touch him, and stepped into the well lit room.

Patrons crowded at the wooden tables of the interior. The place seemed to have adequate lighting even for them. No one seemed to take any notice of me. My eyes slitted, but I strode forward. No use backing out now. My followed waited for me out there. I leaned against the far wall and wrapped my cloak around myself, more to conceal my large sword than from cold. I kept my gaze steadfast upon the entrance. I would know my follower’s scent the minute he or she entered. Then I would no longer run from shadows.

Unless Fox-Fire is not alone. I had named my follower by his scent, the scent of fox and of smoke from campfires. My hand clenched over the woolen material and I struggled to keep my face still. The scimitar hung heavy at my waist, which proved my own weariness. Come to me, Fox-Fire. I will not run forever. Let this end. 

The door opened and a man stepped through. His hair was dark, his expression cold. He wore the dark gray clothing of a mercenary with a cloak of gray fox-furs. His gray eyes scanned the room, then fell upon me. He bore the scent of Fox-Fire. A few patrons glanced up at the interruption, but returned to their own business. Fox-Fire motioned for me to precede him back outside. I let my eyes narrow, but obeyed. I could not say who in here was sided with him and I certainly had no allies in this room of strangers. Better to die fighting then with a sword through my back.

The night breeze was cool, but not yet cold. I could hear a distant owl’s hooting and the soft wing-beats of nightingales. Farm animals snorted, and stamped their hooved feet. Children in their homes still laughed and patrons still talked. I ignored what they said and instead shifted my gaze to the sky. I almost thought I could make out the image of a dragon flying.

“You run fast,” Fox-Fire said. “You’re difficult to track.”

My shire grazed further off, his dark coat nearly blending him in with the night. He snorted, but made no move towards me. “Why have you followed me?” I asked. I would bother with no formalities now. I was tired of running and I was sick of the secrets.

“Some say you brought the wolves down upon my people.”

“Some say strange things.” I ground my teeth. How much does he know?

Fox-Fire chuckled and stepped away from me. “You have got this wrong, Aric Mathur.  A man who runs with wolves—”

“I do not—”

“—would be highly valued by my masters.” He spun back around to face me. “Listen to me, Aric Mathur.” He pointed a finger to me, but his hands held no weapon. “I know who you are, I know where you’re from. I know you command wolves. Wolves could make valuable . . . soldiers.”

I glared at him. I could smell no one coming closer; this didn’t appear to be an ambush unless Fox-Fire possessed magical capabilities. My mind spun on that sudden thought. Does he? Can he? Why wouldn’t he have used it? Is he planning on forcing me—

“Don’t be a fool, Mathur. Your gold won’t last forever. Your luck is running out. How long can you run from him? I can offer you protection. Protection from him and gold in your pocket. Think on it, Mathur.  Think on it. I will return three days from now to this very place. If you wish to join, meet me here.” He nodded to me, turned and walked away. His fox-fur cloak stirred in the gentle breeze and he disappeared even to my eyes.

I glared after him, kicked the ground and grunted. “Fool!” I hissed, unsure whether I meant the man or myself for considering his proposition. I have three days to come up with a better plan. Three days . . .  I patted the scimitar at my side. The blade was long and curved, wider towards the edge, inscribed with ancient runes. The silvery hilt was carved with wolves and inlaid with three stones of deep red that often almost seemed black.  All I had left from . . .

I shook my head. It was time for me to change my luck and to change my life. And I would start here at the Green Dragon Inn.