[Tom_Scudder]

The army's outriders dragged in a man - pale-skinned and wearing black steel chainmail and a tabard bearing the sign of a white moon on a blue field. He turned even paler on seeing the dragon in its full majesty, but his voice was steady enough: "Are you the one that calls himself Cirin, Lord of Torture and Vileness?"

"Penitential Torture. And who might you be, presumptious one? I am marching towards conquest, and though I am also Prince of Patience, I do not have a lot of time."

"My mistress sends me with a message: Lydia, the Vampire Queen, Persecutor and Destroyer of Youth and Queen of Ulm, demands you cease this mocking pretense to divinity immediately. Fail to surrender immediately and subjugate yourself to her, and she will know the taste of dragon's blood!"

"Oh, very well rehearsed. A Vampire Queen. Then you would say that she is a mistress of life and death?"

"Of course! And of the deepest mysteries of existence!"

"And then that the barriers between life and death pose no obstacle for her?"

"Well, no..." The envoy seemed to notice once more that he stood before a twelve-ton carnivore.

"Then she will be able to read my response when your ashes blow past her palace!"

Later:

"Are you truly the Prince of Patience, lord?"

"Among Dragon-kind, the extent of my patience with the smaller folk is legendary."

That was the morning. The afternoon saw the defenders of Gula Kusten turn out, prepared for a fight. The lines were drawn up at the back of the battlefield so the great Dragon could try some new magic before he leapt into the fray. The fire darts worked marvelously, burning two of the lightly-armored units alive and wounding several others. And the leaping into the fray worked beautifully as well. The day saw not a single casualty.

And then the evening. The troops prepared their camp, and the outriders had rounded up some of the village notables to pledge themselves to the cause, when a voice cried out:

"Defenders of Gula Kusten, come forth! We claim this land in the name of Ulm and of Lydia!"

"That is the second time I have heard that name spoken today. I would not be sorry never to hear it again."

Cirin took to the air, surveying the field, then landed behind his army's hastily-arrayed lines.

"Would you like to wait for the rest of your troop to arrive?" he called to the 7 men who faced him. Two were mounted, and five on foot - one an obvious noncombatant, unarmed and unarmored and carrying the tools of a siege engineer.

One of the mounted men spoke: "It is 7 men of Ulm facing a score of the trash of Machaka. I would say the odds favor us."

"Enough talk. I am Cirin, the Everburning One, and I will see your bones piled before me."

The battle plan was drawn up to oppose a large, lightly-armored force, but improvisational genius was not one of Cirin's many virtues. Still, how badly could things go? His spells flew wide of the targets, but he made short work of the engineer and his two bodyguards, and looked around for other prey. Where was that knight with the big mouth, anyway?

And then the lance punctured his lung.

He flailed around miserably - one of his claws took the man's eye - but the Ulmish warrior followed up with a well-placed mace blow that fractured the dragon's skull.

Roderik pulled the lance free and looked to the rest of the field, where his men had despite his boast been overwhelmed. This could have been a disaster, but this one blow told for all. Bearing his still-dripping lance, he wheeled and rode for home.

And so the vampire queen's boast was fulfilled on the same day it was delivered.