I had to admit. This knight was better than the last two. Oh, and the one before. How anyone had ever given that loser a knighthood, I couldn't imagine. Had to have been inherited. With the right bloodline, anybody can be a knight. Even if they only know which end of the sword to hold about half the time.

Anyway, this guy, today's guy, he was good. Today's dragon – Kanfiliax is his working name, but I know him as Anfi – would have to keep his wits about him or he'd end up on the end of a spear.

Fact that this guy used a spear at all put him head and shoulders above a lot of the knights who come to "rescue" me. So many knights reach the lair and go straight for their sword. Like it's the only weapon "worthy" of a knight. Or maybe just the only weapon they trained with.

Fools.

If it were me, I'd arrive carrying a loaded crossbow. Just in case I got lucky. Wouldn't get a second shot, but even with a longbow, I probably wouldn't. Dragons are just too fast.

So I'd shoot my crossbow, drop it, and switch to a spear. Take away the dragon's reach advantage. Keep the sword for a backup weapon.

But then, I've had a lot of time to think about this.

Worse than the sword-only knights are the ones who finally get their first look at a real live dragon and immediately turn tail and run.

All the work to set this up. And they just turn tail and run.

Frustrating. And it happens a lot more often you might think.

See, you listen to knights talk at a feast or around court and you'd think they were all masters of combat, battle-tested and hardened into forces to be reckoned with. But with most of them, it's all talk.

Oh, maybe they could stand their ground against some other knight who isn't any better than they are, and scrap a bit until one of them gives up, pleading exhaustion. Or one gets a lucky shot and slips something past all that fancy, expensive armor and…

Well, you get the idea.

But this guy. I should have known he was something better, the moment he crested the ledge.

First of all, he climbed to this last ledge by hand – with his gauntlets on, no less — but brought rope and a grapple with him for the trip back down. That was smart. Not tipping that he was there by throwing up the grappling hook, and letting the dragon end the fight early by burning the rope or slashing it with a claw when he was only partway up.

Usually that doesn't kill the rookie making that mistake. Most dragons are kind enough – while working – to slash or burn the rope before the knight climbs to a fatal falling distance. Instead, the fall just leaves them bruised and maybe a little broken on the landing below, where their squire could help them clamber back onto their horse and ride away in defeat.

Oh, I should point something out. Yes, dragons can smell and hear horses coming from a long way off. They've got snouts that can distinguish the breeds of roses in the next duchy, and hearing that could detect a flea hopping onto the back of an unshorn sheep ten leagues distant and all the things the stories say about them. That's all true.

However…

Unlike us humans, dragons aren't born – well, hatched, but you get the point – with their full array of senses. Their senses develop slowly over the course their first two centuries. And most of the dragons who participate in the rescue game are young enough that, yeah, maybe they could smell or hear a relatively quiet, well-trained warhorse on that next ledge down. If that ledge weren't a good hundred feet below us. Or more. Plus, with the way the wind blows up here?

Forget it.

I mean, the wind up here is so bad even my youthful skin ripples with it sometimes. And I need to keep my famously golden tresses braided and bound or I'd be facing a nightmare cacophony of split ends and tangles the next time I got to pick up a brush.

Really, wind like this, I should be wearing something practical. But I'm on the job, which meant that even in this windstorm I was stuck in the traditional frilly blue gown with plenty of cleavage showing and all that.

I don't complain about the costume requirements, you understand. I'm playing my part, and we all know the look is expected. It's just that I'm not willing to ruin my hair for a gig, you know? And a gold-chain hairnet only offers so much wind protection.

This time, at least, I got to hang back in the cave and out of the harsh summer sun. Last time, I had to be tied to a pole in an open pit without so much as a veil or awning to protect my fair skin.

And the alchemical creams to undo that kind of damage come pretty dear, let me tell you.

Anyway, this guy hauled himself up onto the ledge with three spears tied to the back of his shining plate armor. Now that was something I wasn't sure how to read. That his armor was shining. Could have meant magic armor. Could have meant that he'd taken the time to polish it before making the climb.

Some knights are vain enough to do that.

What was more, he pulled himself up not onto an exposed part of the ledge, but off to the left, where those jutting red rocks would give him partial concealment. That meant he'd done some surveillance on the way up. Smart.

He didn't bellow a challenge, either, when he saw Anfi. Excuse me, Kanfiliax, when he's working. See, Kanfiliax had been curled up and having a little snooze, and was only just rousing to the sound of the knight hoisting himself up onto the ledge.

It was Kanfiliax's rousing that got my attention, because honestly I hadn't heard the knight at all. Only reason I saw him first was that I had a better vantage point, from where I was tied to the pole.

I know, I know. Bugs me too. I mean, if this is supposed to be a dragon's lair, just who ties me to the pole? The dragon? Or is it supposed to represent people sneaking up here and tying the sacrifice to the pole while the dragon is away?

And don't even get me started on the "virgin" thing.

But the sacrifice being tied to a pole is tradition, so I had to put up with it. I'd even been asked to stop filing complaints about it. And given that I do need the money that comes with this gig, I had no choice but to comply.

Not unless I wanted to go home and…

Well, anyway.

Soon as today's knight had his feet under him, before his opponent even uncoiled, he just hefted and hurled one of his spears. Stuck poor Anfi – excuse me, Kanfiliax – between the wings.

Poor dragon. He was only maybe twenty feet long, nose to tail tip, and still developing some of his muscles. That spear wound would probably take him weeks to heal, and he might not fly right until it did.

But Kanfiliax did produce the kind of roar that stalled the knight's charge – even a young dragon's roar is no small thing, let me tell you – and gave him time to uncoil and get into the fight.

The knight threw his second spear, but Kanfiliax twisted so that it bounced off his scales.

Wow, those scales are beautiful in the bright sunlight. A vivid red and slightly iridescent. I'd love to have shoes that color. Or maybe a brooch…

Kanfiliax loosed a stream of fire, and the knight actually dove and rolled under it. Not a move I was used to. Most took that first flame volley off of specially treated shields.

Of course, it helped that Kanfiliax was still young enough that his flame came out as that thin stream, only maybe wide as my thigh.

The knight came up from his roll closer, redirected a claw-strike with a nifty move I wished I knew, then slashed his spear tip across Kanfiliax's belly.

That left a better gouge than I expected. Better than Kanfiliax expected too, because he went straight to the thunder wind move.

If you've never seen it, that's when a dragon flaps his wings hard enough to knock everyone back with the wind he generates.

Now, an older dragon could knock down half a village with that move, buildings included. Kanfiliax, he would normally be good for two or three armored knights with it – especially working with this windstorm at his back – but that spear hampered him.

Instead of sending the knight sprawling, it just pushed him back maybe three steps.

Good enough, though, because Kanfiliax snapped in with his jaws and caught the knight's breastplate. The knight howled in pain, but kept his focus. Smacked the butt of the spear in his hands against the haft of the spear sticking out of Kanfiliax's back.

Kanfiliax roared in pain and rage … but let go.

Soon as he did, the knight attacked. Slashing and stabbing with that spear, which was sharper than it had any right to be. And that's coming from someone who's seen a lot of spears, let me tell you.

Sure enough, on the third slash, I saw a telltale blue nimbus coat the spearhead.

Magic.

Now strictly speaking, magic wasn't against the rules of the rescue game. I considered it cheating though, because the dragon wasn't really trying to kill him, but a magic spear might end up killing the dragon. And on a blow that wouldn't normally be fatal on its own.

So that cost the knight some of my esteem. I mean, magic armor, I wouldn't count that against him. Just trying to make sure he survives. Who could blame a guy for that? But a magic weapon? That meant he didn't believe he had the skill to finish the job.

Anyway, now that the magic of the spear had revealed itself, Kanfiliax had two choices – fight harder and be more careful, or flee. And given the skills this guy had already shown, I couldn't blame Kanfiliax for what he did.

He gave the knight a tail-slash. Beautiful shot, that tail slash. Swept both the knight's legs out from under him.

The knight slammed down hard on the rocky surface. Flat on his back.

Now, in theory, Kanfiliax could have gone for the "kill shot" and chomped down on the guy's helmet hard enough to prove his point and send the knight home a loser.

Only two problems there. First, even after that hard fall, the knight still kept a good grip on his magic spear. Second, if the knight didn't acknowledge defeat, Kanfiliax would be in a very killable position for a knight with such a dangerous weapon.

Because if this guy's armor was magic – and given the yet-pristine condition of his breastplate, I was thinking it was – Kanfiliax might not be able to bite through the helmet before the knight could drive that magic spearhead somewhere fatal. Even a point-blank shot of flame might not do the trick.

I assume that Kanfiliax came to the same conclusion, because he ceded the fight by flying off.

The knight shook his helmet, and looked up at the retreating dragon. And from the way the fingers of his gauntlet moved, he might've been considering shifting his grip for a throw.

I couldn't have that.

"Oh, brave sir knight," I called, loud and carrying, even over that wind, "you've defeated the dragon and saved me!"

Yeah, yeah. I know. The official words are "thou hast defeated the dragon…" and so forth. But I'm only willing to go so far for tradition, you know?