Dragonslayer

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Unus in nihil...

Omnia in duos...

Duo in unum...

Unum in nihil.

Nec quattuor...

nec omnia, nec unus, nec nihil sunt.

- Is this...?

- Yes, this is Cragganmore.

Yes, this is the house of Ulrich.

And no, he won't see you.

- But...

- I know. Your business is urgent.

It doesn't matter. He sees no one.

- Please...

- Please yourself. Go home.

Well, what do we do now, boy?

You who knows so much,

answer me that.

Hear me,

you who dwell in Cragganmore.

Ulrich, we will stay here

until we are heard.

Magister?

- What is it?

- We have visitors.

I know.

- I will see them.

- You will?

Yes.

There's a great task

needing to be done.

I have been witness to something -

something of consequence to you.

- To me?

- Yes. My own death.

I knew it. Thieves.

Looks forbidding enough,

don't you think?

Oh, yes.

Master?

No. They'd think me infirm.

Balisarius wore this before he died.

You know, I actually

saw him change lead into gold.

I could never do that.

Mmm... Too bad.

You'd have stood

to inherit some real wealth.

Magister, please,

don't talk like that.

- You're not going to die.

- Oh, I look forward to it.

All this magic,

what has it accomplished?

Tell me, how are your studies going?

Fine. They're going well.

You still wish to be a sorcerer?

- Oh, yes. More than anything.

- Well, then, adeptus minor,

get yourself a handful

of that sulphurous ash over there.

Nunc habeamus lucem...

...et calorem.

Welcome to Cragganmore. I am Ulrich.

Which of you men

calls himself Valerian?

- We are here on behalf...

- I know why you're here.

You're a delegation from Urland,

which is beyond Dalvatia.

Let's see the artefacts.

Scales.

- How did you come by these?

- I found them

at the mouth of the lair.

What else?

- A claw.

- That's no claw, by the gods.

It's a tooth!

You want me to do battle with that?!

- Who else can we turn to?

- Did you try the Meredydd Sisters?

What about Rinbod?

I heard tell he killed a dragon once.

They're all dead.

You're the only one left.

It's a long way to Urland.

Twice each year,

at the spring and autumn equinox,

the King selects

a new victim - virgins.

A lottery. Barbaric.

And in return, this dragon,

it leaves your villages

and crops unburned.

Your king

has made a pact with a monster.

- Master, don't you think...?

- Silence.

Are you afraid of dragons?

No.

In fact, if it weren't for sorcerers,

there wouldn't be any dragons.

Once the skies were dotted with them.

Magnificent horned backs,

leather wings,

soaring in their hot-breath wind.

I know this creature of yours...

Vermithrax Pejorative.

Look at these scales, these ridges.

When a dragon gets this old,

it knows only pain, constant pain.

It grows decrepit, crippled...

pitiful... spiteful.

Will you help us?

Here. Good.

Now let me go.

No...

No, not a bit too heavy.

I'll conquer the highest mountain.

What say you, Galen?

Speak up, boy. Hodge?

Er... If you say so, sir.

When I've gone,

see you keep your nose in your books

and your hands out of my reagents.

How far can you get? A league? Two?

I'm not worried about the road.

Tyrian.

Good morrow.

What do you want?

Young Master Valerian,

The question is,

what do you want so far from home?

We're not afraid of you.

Give us the road.

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.

- Say nothing.

- Here's the mystical one himself.

You'd best keep your distance...

and your manners.

If he's ready to slay a dragon,

he's nothing to fear from me.

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 you should find out

if he's the right man for the job?

Ah! So it's a test you're

looking for? We don't do tests.

Oh, I'm sure you don't.

They never do tests.

Nor many real deeds.

Oh, conversation with your

grandmother's shade in a dark room,

the odd love potion,

but comes a doubter -

why, then it's the wrong day,

the planets aren't in line,

the entrails aren't favourable,

"We don't do tests".

We've got no doubts.

We require no tests.

- And you're not going to get one.

- Enough!

Here. Put this in the conjuring room.

Go to the iron box.

Bring me the dagger within.

The dagger. Be quick.

You shall have your test.

Where are you, boy? I'm waiting.

- It's not this one, is it?

- The very one. Let it fall.

Mortem confundit magus.

- No! Stop him!

- Go on. Don't worry.

You can't hurt me.

Magical powers indeed.

Look at you now - magical ashes.

Hodge!

Hodge!

The kindest lord

a man could ever wish for.

Now he's gone.

Ye gods! You'd think he could boil

his own eggs at the snap of a finger,

but no, he had old Hodge to do it.

Up at five every morning, clearing

out the cages, emptying the slops.

Never a thank you

or a pat on the back.

I shall miss him.

- I do already.

- Oh, no, you don't.

All you think about

is your tricks and your knavery,

but you don't pull any wool

over these old eyes.

You'll have to walk far before

you fill his shoes, mark my words.

What's the matter, Hodge?

Pack too heavy?

No! Don't! Stop that! I need that!

Oh, give it back to me! This way!

I think you're too warm.

Stop it!

Out of respect for the master!

I have as much respect

for the master as anyone, old man,

but I'm master now.

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