The Mad Dragonslayer?

As she walked onward, though, Sandra could see a light ahead, at first pale and distant, but growing steadily stronger as she ventured deeper until it grew almost as strong as daylight. It did not seem to have a definite source. As she moved closer to the light, she tried to keep to the walls and the shadows. Perhaps this was where the guards were.

She cautiously entered this room. It was a large domed room rouhgly hewn out of rock. In the center of the room was a ragged grey boulder, floating about twenty feet in the air. Chained to the rock was a man wearing the ornate, unmistakable armor of an Allarian Dragonslayer. Sandra scowled. The Dragonslayers were among the worst tyrants and male chauvinists in the Kingdom of Allaria. It was a shame that it hadn't been another woman or an Aqualarian man--she desparately needed help in this battle. But an Allarian man would probably treat her with nothing but contempt and would never consent to aid a mere woman who pretended to be a warrior, especially one who was also a soldier of fortune. For all she knew, he might even try to rape her if she rescued him.

She was about to leave the Dragonslayer behind when she noticed that the rock was moving up and down. She found herself watching in fascination as it drifted toward the top of the room and then drifted back downward. As the man tied to the rock saw her, he tried to cry for help, but it came out as a feeble groan. He was not wearing a helmet. His helmet, in fact, was floating along with his sword at the edge of the boulder, just out of his reach. His beard was now scraggly and had grown to a ridiculous length, showing that he had been imprisoned here for quite a long time. Even under the beard and dirt, however, Sandra could see that his features were fairly handsome, not in a cruel way like those of Sir Morlak but in an almost human way. Still, his face alone gave her no reason to judge his nature.

"Please help me," the man said weakly. He seemed dazed. It was entirely possible that he was too dazed to recognize that Sandra was a woman.

"Who are you and why should I help you?" said Sandra, contemptuous but a little intrigued.

The boulder was now on an upward course. The man strained to shout something, but it dissolved into a hacking cough. Once the boulder had made its way down to her, the man said with as much pride as he could manage, "I am Johnathan of Collins, Dragonslayer of King Emry of Allaria. I have come to kill the accursed Dragon that dwells in these caves and to..." His speech dissolved into coughing once more. The boulder had made another cycle by the time he came down. "To find a friend of mine who was sent here before me. Or avenge his death and give him a warrior's burial, if he has fallen in battle. Who are you\?"

She now realized that this young man was somehow familiar. Perhaps she had heard a few stray rumors of him before she had left behind the life of a noblewoman. For whatever reason, the associations were pleasant. Still, she was not going to reveal her true name and lineage to him. "Call me Hippolyta," she shouted up to him. "I am curious, who was this friend you have come to rescue?"

"You're a woman?" The man's jaw dropped. "What are you doing--n-never mind. He is... he is..." His voice was vehement now as he struggled to say it. Although it was quiet, Sandra could hear it echoing through the dome--clearly, the acoustics were good. "I do not remember. I think I am under some enchantment. It was not the Dragon who imprisoned me here but a witch, I do not remember her name, she tried to... to turn me into a woman, and do horrible things to me, but then the Goddess of Bards appeared to rescue me. Why her, I do not know. But then... something happened to her, and I am still imprisoned here, and I cannot remember the name of my friend. He was also a Dragonslayer, the greatest and most virtuous of them all, greater than I'll ever be, but we were like brothers. His name was... Frederigo." He was close to Sandra, but still trying to shout. His face lit up with a smile now. "Frederigo... D'Honaire!"

Sandra was stunned. She was a D'Honaire, the eldest daughter and the second-eldest child of Duke Charles and Duchess Chaplaine. She had three brothers--Charles, who had become a mage, gone rogue and died, a great stain on the family's honor; Jarlath, also a mage, now studying in Ilxior; Connor, not yet ten, who thankfully had no magic in his blood. And one sister, Rowena, of about fifteen, who she still missed. She knew of no one in her family named Frederigo, save her legendary great-uncle who died decades ago. And yet the name seemed strangely resonant to her... Had the dragon's sorcerous powers somehow driven this man mad?

1. Sandra decides to rescue Johnathan, although she is uneasy about it.
2. Sandra decides that Johnathan is clearly mad and she should leave him alone.

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