Dragon Slayer

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CASTLE - NIGHT

Now comes the moon riding over the horizon. Upon a hill at

the edge of the wood squats a castle, its crude stonework

bathed in cold silvery light. Queer carvings and runes

decorate the ponderous gate. Heavy vines are climbing up the

walls. The castle is old, its unfamiliar form testament to

an ancient mind and an ancient craft. Flickering candle light

dances on a leaded windowpane.

Inside, the corridors are dark and silent. Under low arched

ceilings the uneven floors are paved with stone blocks.

Perched over lintels and crouched in niches are icons with

strange animal heads.

HODGE:

A sleep on a straw palette in a room strewn with vegetables

and crockery is Hodge, a wrinkled old retainer. A flickering

candle and empty jug are beside the bed. He is snoring gently.

CONJURING ROOM:

This circular chamber at the heart of the castle is stuffed

with parchments, scrolls, dusty books, bronze braziers, glass

retorts, chemical salts, birds both stuffed and caged. An

iron candelabra stands on a work table, tapers burning. In

the soft glow it seems that the room is unoccupied, but no,

moving in the background is a shadowy figure, preparing for

a magical deed. Feet are positioned carefully within a

pentagram chiseled into the floor. A scroll is consulted; up

comes an arm and a voice blurts out:

VOICE:

Omnia in duos:
Duo in Unum: Unus in

Nihil:
Haec nec Quattuor nec Omnia

nec Duo nec Unus nec Nihil Sunt.

Nothing happens.

VOICE:

Come on, candles, out!

But the little flames stand at attention without so much as

a tremble.

VOICE:

In Volunta Divina et Verbum Magi:

Lux! Exstinguat!

It's no use. There is a sigh and the figure moves forward

into the light. Revealed in the glow is the discouraged face

of Galen Bradwardyn, sorcerer's apprentice.

TOWER:

Carrying the candelabra, the youth trudges up a circular

staircase.

TURRET:

The highest point of the castle is a turret, open to the

stars and the night air. Here, more magic is afoot. An old

enchanter, Ulrich, Magister Ipsissimus, pours water from a

silver ewer into a stone bowl. As the surface ripples

disappear he leans forward and gazes into the pool. All at

once his face hardens as the distant sounds of screams and

thunder reach his ears. Lights and shadows, reflected from

within the basin, play across his face. His frown deepens as

the sound of his own voice comes to him from the vision in

the water -- Draco draconis -- suddenly squelched by the

roar of flame and an ugly snarl.

At that moment Galen reaches the top of the steps and holds

up the candelabra.

GALEN:

Vide, Magister. There's something

wrong.

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