A Debt Paid
written by: Dan Rice
@DanRiceWrites
“Brutus, you infernal fiend! Down those pies!” Sacha screamed as he was jostled around the caterwauling crowd surrounding the contestants.
Cold drizzle pissing from a slate grey sky did not spoil the event’s carnival atmosphere fueled by steins overflowing with frothy brew, bawdy songs, and the pie eating contest, which was the main event—at least, for Sacha. Brutus shot out his tongue, a questing double-headed worm, jamming it between the piecrust’s edge and the ceramic dish. The dragon downed the baked good with a gluttonous gulp.
Laughing hard enough to rattle his bones, Sacha swigged beer from a nigh empty tankard, barely tasting the beverage. He clutched a glass dragon in his right hand, the talisman’s wings, talons, and tail stabbing into his palm like miniature stilettos.
The dragon better win.
Must win.
Or…Sacha shook his head. Best not to consider that, Sacha thought and giggled. Better to live in the moment such as it was.
Next to Sacha, a jowly man, stinking of alcohol and tobacco, bellowed his support for the obese minotaur, jamming pies into its mouth with huge spade-shaped hands. The minotaur didn’t concern Sacha. The monster wasn’t immense enough to compete with Brutus, not if the dragon wanted to win. Which the dragon did. A win for his freedom. Their agreement was sealed with an unbreakable magical oath, as much as that irked Sacha. He was trustworthy. His word was his bond. At least, that’s what he said while striking bargains with dullards.
Losing his enslaved dragon would make earning a living harder and tarnish his reputation. Need a village razed? Hire Sacha the Magician and his dragon Brutus Bloodfire brought in more gold than hire Sacha the Magician for love potions to set hearts afire and tinctures to cure aching joints ever did or would.
But Sacha had a debt he must pay, even if it meant putting a dent in his finances. Well, future finances. Sacha wouldn’t be drowning in debt if his coin purse was bursting with gold.
Unfortunately, the bare-chested giant sitting between the minotaur and Brutus might spoil the dragon’s impending victory. Sacha had bet every coin he had on the winged beast. He’d have enough to settle his gambling debt if the dragon won. If Brutus lost…
Sacha shook his head again and downed the remaining beer to quell his nerves. Scanning the crowd for a serving wench to offload the empty tankard, Sacha spotted a scowling man with a salt and pepper goatee dressed in a sable robe. Turning so the man wouldn’t see his face, Sacha lost his grip on the cup, which fell to the mud and rolled away between pounding feet. He offered half-hearted prayers to the gods in the heavens and the demons in the underworld that the powerful dark wizard Titus Dimitri hadn’t spied him.
Sacha turned his attention back to the pie-eating contest. If Brutus didn’t win, Sacha wouldn’t leave the festivities alive. The dragon downed his fifty-fourth pie. The giant devoured his fifty-third, gnashing pie and ceramic plate with blunt, yellowed teeth.
“Time is running out!” the announcer’s magically enhanced voice echoed over the revelry.
Cheers erupted and the crowd surged against the wooden fencing separating them from the contestants. Sacha moved with the mob to avoid being crushed. In his peripheral vision, Titus slithered through the mass like a darting snake. Sacha gripped the glass dragon so tightly that a wing punctured his palm. His hand slicked with blood, and he nearly dropped the talisman. Cursing, Sacha thrust the icon into a pocket of his robe. He didn’t dare lose it or, even worse, allow it to shatter.
A hand grabbed him by the forearm.
“Do you have my coin, cockroach?” Titus whispered into his ear.
“I…I…I…b…be…bet it all on Brutus.”
Sacha felt something sharp jab into his lower back.
“You best pray your slave wins.”
“Ten,” the announcer boomed, and the crowd joined in the countdown.
The giant jammed two pies along with the plates into his colossal mouth.
“Nine. Eight.”
Brutus inhaled his sixty-third pie, but the giant stuffed four pies into his mouth, bringing his total to sixty-eight. Sacha thrust his hand into this pocket and grabbed the talisman. The sharp bits stabbed him, but he ignored the pain.
“Seven. Six. Five.”
The giant dropped the five pies he held before his yawning mouth and clawed at his throat. Standing on unsteady legs, the giant gagged, teetered backward, tried to catch himself on the chair back but missed, and toppled to the ground with a boom.
A gasp went through the crowd, and a few people booed. Sacha’s heart thumped up and almost out of his throat before the announcer shouted the giant was dead, making Brutus the winner. Sighing, Sacha threw his head back, savoring the rain pattering against his face.
The dagger in the small of Sacha’s back punctured his skin, and he bit his tongue to keep from squealing.
“Isn’t that fortunate?” Titus whispered. “Let’s go collect our winnings.”
Sacha said, “Did you—”
“Don’t ask stupid questions, Sacha.” Titus jammed the dagger in a bit deeper.
This time, Sacha squealed.
***
The drizzle stopped, and the sun started burning away the clouds soon after the end of the pie eating contest. Sacha approached Brutus, who still lounged in the arena, his blood-red scales sparkling in the light. The wyrm ignored the porters struggling to move the dead giant laid out next to him. Sacha wondered if the porters possessed any coin. Titus Dimitri had all his winnings, and he’d soon be without a dragon. The laborers might be willing to pay for magical assistance.
Brutus languidly raised his head from the ground, and his dark eyes focused on Sacha. “Master Wizard. So good of you to come. I thought I might have to find you.”
The dragon’s resonant voice was tinged with a bit of snark Sacha didn’t like. He hadn’t freed the beast yet.
“I need you to swear a magical oath not to harm me before I release you,” Sacha said.
Brutus chuckled. “Oh, really, Sacha. You know that was what made being your slave so galling.” The dragon rose to all fours, looming over the wizard. “You are truly a dunce.”
“How dare you speak to me like that?” Sacha reached a hand into the pocket containing the glass talisman. “What? No. No, it can’t be!”
Sacha pulled out the icon and opened his bloody hand. A wing was broken off the glass dragon.
“Please, I’ll do anything! Spare me!” Sacha gasped as a sulfuric stench lodged in his nose.
The wizard looked into Brutus’s mouth. Flames crackled in the depths of the dragon’s throat.
- A Debt Paid - August 19, 2024
