The Foreign Dragon

“Give me one good reason to trust you.”

Words trembled out of the man. Not thin and certainly not stocky, his physical build came about from countless summers of hard work and even more winters of loss. She had observed them all from her perch, the sky, and even on the rare occasion when the valley was all to herself. Him, the one with the shaved head and arm dashed by scars who stood now in front of her throne, was no doubt their leader.

He looked up at her, a few wet drops of the ceiling of the cave plopped onto the center of his skull. Lip quivering, she thought his back looked stiff as well. Poor thing. It was all he could do to ensure his knees wouldn’t knock against each other.

You’ll find no embarrassment standing in front of me, she wished to say.

“Please.”

Eyelids flickered. Hers, not his. Two claws on the ground, she pushed herself off the stone seat. At least, she assumed it was a throne. Chairs weren’t made in such a way where she was from. At least, she assumed so, unless her memory was beginning to fade. Wings outstretched, stiff joints popped. The sound to her own ears was a welcome one. It meant she was moving at the right time. But the bald man stumbled backward, further into her shadow.

She raised a claw, symbols flashing in front of her eyes. Leaders before him responded differently to her drawings and markings. The man hadn’t fled. A firm mettle belonged to him.

Her snout turned to her left. Crude drawings of animals and homes, one of a man in a suit of armor, and another of what the man called letters lined the walls and covered the floor. She raised a claw, preparing another sign, when the man raised an arm.

“Wait.” He walked closer, slowly, until he saw she wasn’t going to bite, and then resumed at a normal pace.

“Does your sign already exist?”

She nodded her snout.

The man took a deep breath. “Understood.”

Finally, someone with something in between their two ears. The villagers were polite, especially for the past few years. Fear did a funny thing to humans, however. Not necessarily her own kind, but she saw eyes pop, hands scratch at their own skin, and more than her fair share of fainting. When her own children grew scared, the air filled with fire. But they took an awful long time for their wits to return, unlike the bald man’s ilk.

One scaly finger pointed to the sun and another, a collection of homes. Not her finest work, but the leader understood well enough. He nodded, a figure in his throat bouncing up and down. Finally, she turned to a small wheel, with a few lines drawn underneath. Again, the figure nodded and turned to speak.

“We suspect twenty or so days, but spring has just arrived, so the weather might argue differently.”

Her snout turned. Smoke threatened to billow out. She wished she could apologize. Not in her true form and neither in her human mask could she speak. But it was time to get to work. Knees bending, there was that ever so wonderful popping sound, and with her arms at her side, she leapt.

Wings pinned to her back, the dragon burst through the top of the cave, fast enough to act hastily, yet slow enough to prevent the bald man from catching a gust of wind in the chest.

He wasn’t the first person from the village to question her motives. Nor would he be the last. Homes would either grow or disintegrate, the young become old and the old become no more, but she would outlast them all. Today, the clouds were low but unlike most days, she was being watched.

Never before had her claws dulled. Nor had the color been drained from her scales. Green was what the men and women of the townfolk called her looks, so green is what she was. Memories stirred of depths underwater where she used to travel. The grass was green there, too. Slowly, her wings batted against the air. Head angling back, a long, thin tail dangled between her lower legs.

Fire trickled out of her mouth.

Like she did most days, she observed the wooden homes and carts struggling under their own weight. These days, the carts didn’t have enough goods to wobble along the path. Even from so up above, where she could threaten the stars, she could see the lines on the faces of the men and women, while children appeared thinner by the month.

Eyes followed the man as he left the cave. Not just hers, but sight held by two other figures waited for him. Hands clenched, the dragon could see their shoulders relax when he appeared. It made her annoyed, to be thought of as so careless, but angry was too strong a state. The trio walked the long path into the hamlet and back toward the main road.

Her snout flared. No sign of the knight. The townsfolk would get back safe.

The quarry was more built out than she expected. From up above, even the dragon could see the tired faces and dirty hands. Men and women, caked in dust, brought up bundle after bundle. Young and old alike buckled under the weight, with men in armor berating them, demanding a faster pace. A giant wheel spilled into the river on the side of the wooden fence. Splintering and cracking, the stream from the river was thinning. Only by a sliver, but she was one with nature. Her feeling couldn’t be disbelieved.

The dragon’s snout flared. Two men in armor looked up as she hovered in the air. Quickly, she climbed. Again, she didn’t smell the knight.

Now, anger seeped into her mind.

He wasn’t young nor old, but rather someone whom the dragon thought of as a late bloomer. At least, that’s the term men and women in the village used. Times they met, she saw the dark, purple coloring infecting every crack of his armor. Never did he have the courtesy or honor to raise his helmet, to look death in the eye. His was a quest for riches and glory, and not servitude to his fellow man.

“Mother, look!” Children gawked when the knight walked by. Words weren’t needed to describe the dragon. All they needed was a look up at the sky. Trembling lips said it all.

A small pack of foxes tried sneaking around the confines of one of the many farms on the edge of the town. Their eyes grew wide at the sight of unguarded sheep. She flew down, close to the pens and even closer to the foxes. Not a single flame was needed. They turned tail. Stay far away, the dragon thought.

“Bahh!” One of the sheep tried standing on its hindlegs. The dragon smiled. Razor sharp incisors were revealed. Tumbling, it was the sheep’s turn for her eyes to grow wide. Every inch of the white fur was covered in mud.

She flew away, wishing the shepherd had been here to see her protect the flock. The dragon needed the village as much as they needed her protection.

Clear skies told her it was a good idea to circle the boundaries of the home she shared with the villagers. Once more, she was called upon to protect an undefended flock. Yet this time it was a bear she was called upon to bat away. He too knew better than to test the heat of her breath or the daggers upon which she walked.

“Much appreciated.” A deep voice, she didn’t have time to look back. But he was grateful. That, she knew.

Men settle land and men build homes. ‘Twas a natural order she was accustomed to at this point. Images in her mind flashed of wide open, green fields and floating mountains, just like the one where her throne lie. But as far as she looked, the dragon knew she would not find even a hint of her homeland amongst the world where she now found herself.

Families and babes and yes, even the knight, were much more a part of this natural order than herself. She refused to pass, but she refused to intercede too heavily.

Patrolling their home from above, the dragon didn’t have another pen of defenseless cattle to save. Twice she helped a band of surveyors reach home and twice more she stopped to help light the fires outside of some of the homes. Most thanked her, and none, at least this time, tried to lash out. They were learning.

She found a small patch of uninhabited land near the town’s entrance and landed. Closing her eyes, the air around her soon smelled of smoke. Not her own, which was the most disorienting part. Her tail hadn’t even fully disappeared when she grabbed her new cloak with two hands and marched on to the village.

Ears remained wide open. Prices of goods, who fell sick, and the occasional sighting of the knight were all on the lips of the fellow villagers. Very few, if any at all, mentioned their friend in the sky.

She struggled with the limitations of this form. Only two feet were attached to a frail body[LC1] . They dragged across the mud, scraped against rocks, and grew even colder when she found herself crossing a puddle. The dragon had no idea how humans dealt with such limitations. Whenever she took her form as a beggar, it couldn’t be for too long. Such pace drove her mad.

Shops were closing and the owners of different stands gathered their wares for the night, yet villagers were in no hurry to head indoors.

“Just one swoop and bam!” A clap followed the scratchy voice’s description. She turned around. A man and woman, both covered in wrinkles, spoke.

“Its wings were massive! Just like that, the bandits fled.” The old man laughed. The dragon slinked away, clutching tighter to her disguise.

“Thank goodness,” said the woman.

The dragon cut through the middle of the town. No sign of the man. Fewer people were talking about her exploits as she expected. Running past her were a pair of children, a small mass of dark green in each of their hands. She dared not smile. She had a job to do, but the dragon remembered the day many moons ago when she realized the villagers created the dolls.

Finally, she found him. Or rather, she found his scent. A thin shadow blending in with the night, he kept banging against the wood. Small traces of blood trickled down his slick head. The dragon gave him his privacy for a few more seconds and decided against listening to the words he spoke to himself.

“Excuse me?” Eye lids were too heavy to be surprised as the dragon grabbed his shoulder.

The hood tightened around her. A finger pointed toward the sky. A set of eyes widened.

“Hell, so they weren’t rumors after all.”

Smoke trickled out of her nostrils. She stepped back but dared not bend down to write in the dirt. The dragon had never really understood how her magic worked. For all she knew, her stomach could be a mess of scales.

A few fingers pointed in the direction of the quarry and more described the scene, men and women both, trapped in its confines. Quickly, though, the man played along.

“That’s the place. Did you see a lot of people?”

The dragon shook her head.

Words stumbled out of the man’s mouth. For a moment, she thought his beard made him unable to speak at times. Gibberish, or at least a dignified form of it.

“Maybe Miriam made it out.” He didn’t bother to describe Miriam. The dragon shook the top of her cloak. A hand waved down across, following the cloth all the way to the mud. She needed to perform the gesture a few times before the man understood the message.

“About my height. Long, brown hair. Eyes as black as the night.” He paused and looked away. “If you can smell, her skin always reminded me of fresh sage.

A ghastly smell to the dragon, but she didn’t care to tell the man off.

The dragon turned to leave.

“He came by the other day.”

She lifted her head. A hand threatened to lower the hood.

“Maybe asking for you. Perhaps not.” The man paused. He shuffled to the side, careening his head. Theres was the only presence in the space.

“But he was sure sizing up your throne.”

The woman nodded. She couldn’t stop her body from narrowing her eyes, couldn’t hold back her feet from the quick trot, and dare not fight against her ancient nature which called for smoke to creep out of her nose. Bold and greedy, that’s all the knight was. He had no intention of helping the town. Soon did she find a small cove in the forest as dawn settled and quickly did she take to the sky in her original form. The dragon did not roar. Tips of scarlet fell off the claws as she crashed through the clouds.

Quietude settled over the rest of the night, allowing the dragon to catch a moment’s rest. How did she not smell the knight? Rotten cabbage and a dying husk spewed off his armor. It wasn’t a hard scent to miss. Maybe time was truly changing her. She first thought the fading memories or the desire for more idleness were simply symptoms of surviving so far from home.

“Aye! Fiend!”

Such rude greetings echoed throughout her cave. She climbed amongst the stalagmites and stalactites until her body coiled out of the top of her cave. Her head first and then the rest of her body coiled, stretching along the rim. Rocks dissolved to dust under her feet. She needed to remind the knight he was dealing with no ordinary fiend.

Maybe it was bravery. Maybe it was foolish. He raised his sword, both edges glistening amongst the morning haze.

“By the order of the king and queen, I declare my oath to slain thee! I swear to wear your skin for my formal wear and take your throne on behalf of our glorious kingdom!”

Hundreds of yards away, he appeared no smaller than an ant. If only the people of the village had someone dedicated to fixing the stream. Taking in a deep breath, the dragon’s head cocked backward. He was nimble, no doubt about it, but only doze away from a strong gust, nothing more. She flew off.

Above all else, her promise to the village must be kept. They were a kind and quiet lot, especially the generation currently residing amongst its ranks. The quarry wasn’t as busy today, but when the dragon landed beside the stream, all she could see was a giant wheel in the water.

The blockage must have changed.

“Cur!”

Again, she only heard the knight before she saw him. Running down the hill, his footwork was impressive. Black dashes of color against his armpits helped him stand out even more. She let the man catch up to her, to give him a taste of her prowess.

Once, twice, he swung and both times the dragon guided the sword out of the way with her tail. She leapt when he tried grabbing onto her scales. The ground met his back when she sent a halfhearted swipe his way.

“Bastard! We will meet again!”

The sound of more footsteps hurried the dragon away. Still, it was hard not to smirk while watching the knight struggling to stand.

No deadline from the town crossed her mind, but she worried about the workers. The dragon hurried over to the quarry the next day. She was determined to lay waste to the area, to abandon any sense of restraint. The world would be good enough without it.

Wings flapped and she lowered herself to the edge of the valley that held the camp. The sheen of a double-edged sword caught her eye. Without a hint of injury, the knight raised his sword. He didn’t yell, but barreled toward the dragon, unperturbed by the hillside between them both.

Huffing, she jumped down in a flash. Swiping and slashing, the knight was displaying some wisdom. He didn’t dare try to deflect her tail and soon started to roll too close for her body to be slashed. Suddenly, a gust of sage caused her eyes to grow thick with water. She pivoted and turned, when it dawned on her.

They had an audience.

“Perhaps they would like to see a miracle! Ha!”

His voice came out of nowhere. A pinch and then the dragon roared. Back fell the wooden fences and further fell the knight. Sprawled, he came out from under her. A smile was most likely hidden under his square helmet.

The dragon was in pain. And shocked. So up she flew, until the next day.

He knew where she lived, how she fought, and who would try to protect her. It was only fitting the dragon found safe haven amongst the clouds, sleeping and wrapped in her own wings. In the sky, the knight could do no damage.

“Trust. Trust.” The villager’s words rang throughout her head. She awoken from her slumber. Downward she flew, wings angled back, blazing through the sky like a rocket. She thought about the children with their dolls, the dirty faces amongst those enslaved at the quarry.

Fire bubbled under her lips. She eyed the hillside, the double-edged sword, and the knight, standing, already in triumph, in the middle of the field, as if he already won.

Never. She had a promise to keep.