The villagers came up … and shuddered at the sight. On the ground at the sacrificial site were a pile of ashes and the smoking remains of a charred post. With no delay or conversation, they went about hammering in a fresh post.
Their blonde maiden sat in what looked to be Bear Glen’s best wagon. Her dress was basically white linen, but even from the distance to my observation post I could see it had been elaborately worked. Sensibly, the villagers had tied the girl’s arms tightly behind her and blindfolded her—even a most dedicated and obedient woman might lose her nerve at a time like this.
They helped her out of the wagon with great care and one by one but quickly they kissed her before they led her to the new post. All this was good. This was no dregs-of-the-village poxed whore they were bringing out for the sacrifice.
They laid out a rough blanket on the ground so the charcoal and ashes wouldn’t sully her white dress. They coiled a rope gently around her neck and tied that rope tightly to the post. Then they all beat a hasty retreat down the path … within earshot, but out of sight. The sacrifice was in place. Would it be accepted?
It would. I moved into the cave and pulled a massive lever on my machine hidden just out of sight. The “Great Dragon” came to life inside the cave. Smoke billowed out, and roars and groans were heard.
I rushed out … there was much to do, and it had to be done quickly!
First off, I gagged the girl. I didn’t bother with stuffing, I simply let the cloth sink deep between her teeth as I wrapped it around her head. Screams were no problem, but an intelligible “What are you doing here! Put me down, you lecher!” would spoil the moment for the villagers waiting just out of sight.
That done, I cut her loose from the post, hoisted her on my back, and carried her quickly into the cave, where I dumped her unceremoniously next to the girl from the first village. I pulled more levers, checked dials and the status of my elemental helpers, then waited as the machine rumbled its way to a climax and a finale: First huge groans and whistles that sounded a bit like unnatural screaming, then a roar of flame that torched the post, then silence.
A few minutes later a couple of young villagers peered over the rise with great care, saw the smoking ruin, and were satisfied.
I went back to my ladies. The first girl, from Strawberry Vale, I had already tied well. Now I retied the second just as thoroughly.
So far, so … excellent! This year’s crops near the cave had been bad and these villagers seemed to be feeling that they should have done more to appease the Great Dragon last year.
Both these ladies were some half dozen years beyond puberty and … flawless … absolutely flawless in face, figure, and hair—peasant women can surprise you. The first had slightly wavy black hair, let loose to fall over high, firm breasts and down to her waist. The second was golden blonde with hair in a waist-length braid, hanging past a full, round bosom. The dresses they wore were as impressive as the ladies. These village peasants had no access to silks and gems, but what they did with linen, feathers, and shells was awe-inspiring. These were fine treasures indeed!
I studied my quiet ladies—still blindfolded, gagged, and not comprehending what had happened to them. Silks and gems … perhaps I would introduce these to the peasants over this next year. For these were my peasants, who knew that I, their Baron, was dedicated to slaying this dragon and that one day I would do it. In the meantime, they “paid their respects” to it.
Oh, there was a real dragon living in that cave—and it was dangerous. But it was a sneaky creature and hid when I came to take its place on Dragon Day.
There would be one more sacrifice today. I restoked the boiler, reset the levers, and waited for the third village’s Dragon Day procession.
Even as the procession from Squirrel’s Perch rounded the corner in the trail, I could see I was going to have a problem. The sacrificial maid was in a rough wood cage with bits of rotten vegetables sticking to its bars. This was definitely someone the village wanted to be rid of, rarely a good candidate for my project. After I performed the Dragon Ritual I would have to dump her quickly. And in the coming year I would make no effort to rescue that village from whatever the fates had in store for it!
But the problems became worse. One man nodded drunkenly as he held the new stake and the big mallet-wielding woman was no more sober, missing as often as she hit, but they finally drove it in. Their wench wasn’t tied up yet; she came out of her cage swinging and nearly got away before, among them, her neighbors managed to beat her to the ground. They dragged her dazed to the post and tied her tightly with her elbows pulled behind a waist-high crosspiece lashed to the post, her wrists bound together across her stomach. As they tried to rope her hips and knees to the vertical post, she kicked and bit, her upper body swinging wildly as she tried to free her arms. “If I let them continue, I’ll be a week separating her from the post!” I told myself with frustrated exaggeration. I pulled levers on the dragon machine to start it audibly huffing and puffing, and even drunk as they seemed to be the villagers noticed.
Eventually, leaving her without a blindfold and with her knees only half-tied, the villagers backed off to wait some distance away at the ridge. Apparently they’d drunk courage as well as clumsiness from the bottles they now passed around, and they actually wanted to see their wench burn! What could she have done to them?
“I should just leave quietly and refuse the sacrifice—that would teach them!” I told myself. But I was feeling some attraction to the victim. I now saw that she was a tall girl, clearly not pox-ridden nor weak and sick in any way, with a pleasing mass of long wavy red hair swirling around a firm neck and shoulders.
So I again pulled the big lever to start the dragon machine toward a climax and watched her struggle to free herself with occasional deep-throated grunts of effort. The drabness of her simple gray peasant dress—not gaily decorated like those of the other two—accented the fiery red of the hair that floated around her head in a most captivating way.
As the machine worked towards its climax, I half expected a few shrill shrieks of panic, but she continued to work stolidly on escaping. And the villagers kept watching. Some were even cheering! I summoned some immature fire elementals and commanded them, “Chase those villagers over the ridge.”
The elementals appeared in a ring around the woman, then scampered towards the taunting, jeering villagers. Child elementals are neither big nor fast, but the line of fire moving towards them was sufficient to bring the mob to its senses and to send them into headlong retreat down the trail away from the cave.
I then had to move even more quickly. The woman saw me coming but fortunately her amazement kept her quiet. I slashed the ropes holding her legs and the crosspiece to the post, grabbed her by the hair at the nape of her neck, and quick-marched her to the cave, the crosspiece still holding her elbows back. It was slow going, partly because she struggled a bit, but mostly because her lightly sandaled feet couldn’t move any faster over the broken rock at the cave entrance. We had only just gained the entrance when my dragon machine blew its huge belch of flame and set the post burning fiercely behind us.
I put a bag over the woman’s head, then proceeded to tie her as the others were tied. She made no protest. I discovered she was strong as well as tall but not particularly limber, and I noted a face too strong for conventional beauty.
The third group of peasants had been the last. I collapsed my mechanical dragon and put all my equipment—and my three beautiful captives—into my cart. I needed to be quick and careful. The lair’s true owner was nocturnal. Night was now coming and she would not hide deep much longer. I did not want to face her that day.