"This way!"

The captain pulled the reigns, and his horse whinnied to a stop and kicked its front legs. He'd trust his steed with his life, but even the bravest mount pranced with fear whenever the smell of sulfur filled the air and curled the leaves of both tree and bush alike.

Together, the captain and his horse sniffed the unearthly breeze before leaving the path and trotting into the clearing. There they saw a young guardsman kneeling over a red patch of mashed grass. The sky had cleared, except for one thin grey cloud that trailed off into the deep blue canvas and stretched to the horizon.

The guardsman looked up as his captain approached. He held a charred and bloody breastplate in his hands, a picture of a winged dragon--the King's crest--was still visible on the front.

"Your brother died for King and Kingdom," the captain said.

"King?" The guardsman's eyes seemed to burn with a dragon's fire. "This beast is King."

"Silence! Your grief leads you to foolish tales."

The guardsman gritted his teeth, and stood.

"Let's go," the captain commanded. "We'll have our revenge in the morrow."

They gathered the others and huddled in the tower, a tower built for one purpose. They had lined the walls with brookstone to shield against heat and fire, and they'd fastened spikes made of frost-cured iron to the roof and surrounding courtyard. Not even the fiercest dragon would risk impalement trying to enter, for every child knew that the flesh over a dragon's heart was soft and vulnerable.

They selected a bull for bait, the largest in the kingdom. Then, as soon as dawn struck, the captain gave the order and twelve guardsmen bound the bull and strapped flasks to its body. The flasks were filled with a potion prepared with the King's own magic, and no man dared open them. While the potion might only daze a dragon, even the vapors would surely kill a man.

Once the flasks were secured, they fastened a chain around the bull's neck and drove him outside, helping to drag the massive tether with their horses. The chain measured six inches around and sixty feet in length with three-foot iron hooks spaced every two feet. The men fastened the other end of the chain around the base of the tower, and used a rope to tie the bull to a stake just outside the courtyard.

The first warning came at three in the afternoon when the sun turned red, and black clouds swept across the sky. The captain checked his sword and gripped his lance. Soon he would have his moment.

If he died, he'd have glory. If he lived, he would be able to challenge the King, for he would've done what even the King had not. The King was old, and his magic fading. It was time for a new leader, one that ruled with courage and strength instead of stale tricks.

Screeching interrupted his thoughts and his horse reared onto its hind legs as a black creature, terrible and fearsome, swept out of the sky like a great bat. The smell of death engulfed them, and the men choked and coughed.

The dragon hovered overhead while the bull struggled against the rope, then it pounced on the screaming animal, ripping and clawing at its flesh. Even the battle-hardened guardsmen grew pale as they watched the beast take the twitching carcass into its mouth and leap into the air.

Then, just as the dragon spread its wings across the full length of the courtyard, its head snapped back and the chain set a hook in its mouth.

With a shriek, the beast fell to the earth and crashed with a thunderous rumble. It then struggled to jerk itself free, but the chain held even as rocks began to crumble at the tower's base. The men gasped, but the captain commanded them to be still even as he prayed that the potion would do its work.

Soon, the dragon's struggles slowed and, once it collapsed, they watched for a full ten minutes. It never stirred.

When the captain feared waiting any longer, he grabbed his lance and spurred his horse out of the tower. As he neared the dragon, he gritted his teeth and extended his weapon toward a piece of exposed flesh between its front legs.

Then, just before iron met flesh, the dragon sprung to life and swept its tail under the charging horse. Both horse and rider tumbled to the ground before their foe.

Rumbling shook the ground, and the captain realized that the dragon was laughing. The potion had failed, and he was trapped. Terror gripped his heart even as his hand gripped his sword.

His knees buckled and he stared into the beast's eyes, dark as the deepest lake and large as a man's head. He froze, unable to move as the dragon grasped him with its claws and began crushing his breastplate. Then he saw the image of an old man in the dragon's eye. It was the King, laughing over a crystal ball, his magic not so stale after all.

Blackness overcame the captain and he dropped his sword. The dragon roared; and, in the distance, birds and beasts cried out in terror. Then, without warning, the roaring stopped and the captain fell to the ground.

When he looked up, he saw a young guardsman--the one who had mourned his brother the day before--resting on one knee and splattered with black blood. And when he followed the young man's gaze, he saw a sword in the dragon's chest. Smoke rose from its nostrils as the glow in its eyes faded.

At the same moment, in a back room of the palace, an old man slumped in his chair and a crystal ball fell to the floor. The shattering proclaimed the end of the king's reign.