The Littlest Guardian

The little dragon stretched her legs carefully and slowly got up, untangling her tail and wings from that of her siblings. They were all piled together for warmth towards the back of the cave but, while the rest slept soundly, the sounds and scents of the spring night called to her. The little dragon’s mother rested at the mouth of the cave, blocking most of the entrance. Beyond her large obsidian bulk, the little dragon could see the night sky above dotted with twinkling stars. A large moon hung high, bathing the landscape in milky light and gilding the shadows with silver. The sweet scent of cherry blossoms blew in on a crisp breeze. It was a good night for hunting mice.

The little dragon stalked towards the mouth of the cave with an awkward gate. She had rocked back onto the heels of her scaly feet in an attempt to keep her long talons from clicking against the stone and waking her mother. She reached her mother’s head, which was several times larger than the little dragon’s entire body, and paused, listening for the soft and slow breath of sleep.

There was just enough space between her mother’s muzzle and the cave wall for the little dragon to squeeze past. She pinned her wings tightly against her back and proceeded to sneak through the narrow opening. As she reached the other side, she belatedly realized that she hadn’t taken into account her tail, which dragged like a limp rope across her mother’s nose.

One large, black eye slid open and rolled up to regard her errant daughter. The little dragon froze and sighed in disappointment. She had been caught. To her surprise though, her mother just grinned at her, displaying rows of pointy white teeth. She chuffed with amusement and bumped her giant nose against her little daughter's rump, pushing her out the mouth of the cave. The little dragon bounced in delight and nuzzled her mother’s nose lovingly, before running off down the path towards the temple. The large obsidian dragon rested her chin back onto the stone floor and her eye drowsily rolled shut once more.

A quick run and a short glide down the hill and the little dragon reached the grounds of the temple. She could already see the big, gray tabby waiting for her by the gate. An enormous cherry tree grew in the courtyard and the tabby had left her three kittens there to chase the falling blossoms in the golden lantern light.

The temple itself was the largest building with rooms for the priests and priestess as well as rooms for worship, meditation, and healing. Many other smaller structures that housed the followers and visitors surrounded it. Those in turn were encircled by gardens, both decorative and medicinal. Further out the farm animals were kept in tidy pens and barns. Vegetables were grown in neat rows in long, raised beds. A river ran through a portion of the grounds and a large bridge crossed from the main temple to the opposite bank.

On a cliff overlooking all of this, the little dragon could see her father’s enormous silhouette standing guard. The moonlight lent little color to his dark red scales. He tilted his head slightly to acknowledge her and then raised it again to gaze out over the grounds. The little dragon was always in awe of how regal he looked. She hoped that one day she would grow just as big and could serve the temple as a guardian too. Until then, she would protect the people from the rodents that scurried about soiling their food stores.

The tabby beside her growled low in her throat, drawing the little dragon’s attention to a pair of eyes watching them from the brush. A very large rat hid among the leaves, whiskers twitching. Without warning the cat pounced, just missing the rat’s tail as it fled. Both dragon and cat ran after it, shoulder to shoulder.

The two expert hunters chased it all the way to the river. The rat dove into the slow moving water and began to swim across towards the far bank. The tabby paced back and forth, following its movements from the bridge above while the little dragon spread her wings and glided out over the water, clutching at the rat with her talons. She too missed and the large rodent made it to the opposite bank and ran off into the woods. The little dragon, returning to the ground, pinned her wings tightly to her back to avoid snagging them and followed the tabby through the thick undergrowth.

They were a few minutes into the woods when the cat’s pounce finally met her mark. The rat was pinned beneath her fuzzy, gray paws. The cat was leaning down to deliver the killing blow when a loud bellowing trumpet shook the trees. Both hunters looked up from their prey. The rat twisted in the cat’s distracted grasp and gained its freedom. It ran away, forgotten.

Another more ominous, threatening bellow reverberated through the forest and the tabby arched her back and hissed. The ridges on the little dragon’s back stood erect and she felt hot bile rise in her throat. She hadn’t yet learned to use her fire, but her body reacted instinctively to what she knew was a dire warning and the following threat. She had never heard such sinister tones in her father’s voice before.

The tabby ran back towards the temple with renewed speed and the little dragon followed. When she reached the edge of the forest, the tabby continued on across the bridge to find her kittens, but the little dragon skidded to a halt.

Men swarmed over the grounds like disturbed ants. They came from all sides carrying burning torches and large sharp claws made of metal. They smelled of sweat and fear and hate. The little dragon had seen men dressed like these before. Sometimes a few would come by the temple and shout things at the priestesses as they tended to the sick. They would hurtle rocks and insults at the priests and their followers. Her parents were always quick to respond. They would glide down from their high perches to stand between the men and those they had sworn to protect. The dragons’ size alone was enough to scare the bullies off without any further physical altercation.

But this time there weren't just a few, there were hundreds.

She watched from a distance with eyesight as keen as hawk’s as her father fought with the men. She watched as giant nets brought him down and clamped his muzzle shut. It was an unfair fight. The men did not care who they struck with their metal claws, what they burned with their fire. Her father was careful to not accidentally hit the fleeing innocents. To not damage the buildings or the animals with his fire.

The sudden, multi-directional ambush had caught her sleeping mother unaware as well. A patchwork of nets were dropped over the cave entrance and secured to heavy logs underneath. She watched as a few of her siblings managed to squeeze out between the junctures and took to the sky with frightened screeches, but her mother was much too large to escape.

The obsidian female blew plumes of fire at the men who ducked and backed away, but the nets somehow refused to catch and hold a flame. Men in armor drove spears through the holes in the nets and her mother screamed in pain and anger. She thrashed her tail and beat her wings against the entwined ropes. She bit at the men, her teeth and jaws becoming entangled in the knots. Her movements grew weaker and she unsteadily pitched to one side as the poison in their spear tips began to take hold.

The little dragon stumbled backwards as her mother flooded her mind with images. She sent pictures to all of her remaining children of them taking to the air, fleeing, hiding in the trees. With the images came a strong impression of fear and desperation. She wanted her children to run, to save themselves.

The little dragon’s mother disappeared from view as she sank into the cave’s depths and the nets came down, the men moving in. Flickering, fading images came to the little dragon then of a cold night when her mother slept curled around a nest of eggs, a purr of happy contentment in her throat. A picture of her father watching proudly as the eggs hatched and her brothers and sisters squeaking with new voices and toddling on new limbs followed, her father touching each of their noses in turn. Her mother sent images of the two of them watching their small children take their first flights along with an intense feeling of love and pride...and then she sent no more.

The little dragon backed into the shadows of the woods. Tears flowed wet and hot down her cheeks. She felt the fire she could not yet wield rise up in her throat once again and then choke back down, drowned in her tears. Father was dead. Mother was dead. She did not know how many of her brothers and sisters had managed to escape. She tried to reach out to touch their minds, but it was a gift she had not yet learned and her attempt to find the others was met with emptiness. She felt small and alone. With the last of her strength her mother had sent out her love and her wish for her to hide, to survive. So, not knowing what else to do, she honored her mother’s last wish.

Deep in the woods the little dragon found a hole under a rotting log and ducked into it. She curled up tightly, shivering in both fear and cold. Time passed and the horrible noises from the temple grounds continued, only slightly muffled by the distance and the dirt. The little dragon felt hopeless and helpless. Her parents had been unable to protect the temple and the people under its care. She would not be able to protect them. She worried too for the animals and the cats that were her friends.

A sound drew her attention and she peeked out of the hole to see one of the priestess running unknowingly towards her hiding place. The woman clutched her baby to her chest and looked over her shoulder with fear in her eyes. A man was chasing her, he caught her right outside the little dragon’s hole and grabbed her arm. The moonlight glinted off the metal claw he brandished at her. Without conscious thought, the little dragon scrambled out of the hole and dashed between the man’s legs. She twisted her body around his ankles the way she had seen the temple cats do, tripping unsuspecting visitors with their unexpected affections.

But her actions, while unexpected, were not at all affectionate. As she wrapped herself around his legs she violently bit into his calves and easily clawed through his leather boots with her sharp talons. The shocked and injured man lost his grip on the woman and the knife. The little dragon moved in for a second attack, this time tearing at the soft parts of his now exposed ankles and wrapping her strong tail around his legs to pull him off balance.

The man screamed in pain. His legs were no longer able to support him. He fell heavily to the ground, his head cracking against a large rock. He remained there, unmoving.

The woman paused and made a reverent gesture to the sky, then she looked down at the small dragon and made the same gesture to her. It was in the hand language the humans used to speak to her mother and father, the little dragon had learned enough of it to know it was a gesture of thanks. Then to her surprise the woman bowed to her and signed the word that meant holy guardian. It was a name only carried by her mother and father in their duty to protect the temple. She was too small, too weak, unworthy of such a noble title.

The priestess turned and fled with her child.

The little dragon retreated back into her hiding spot and watched as a tiny blue wisp of magic left the man’s body and dissipated into the night. Even those who did not believe in magic had a bit of it left in them. Now his magic was gone and the body left behind grew stiff and cold. The dragon spat the blood from her mouth. She had never tasted human blood before. It was bitter and unpleasant.

She waited in her hiding spot, guarding the path, to ensure no one followed the escaping priestess or her child. No one came. More time passed and the little dragon realized that only the sound of crackling fire came from the temple now. The men had retreated.

A soft mewing drew her attention and she saw the gray tabby limping towards her. The fur on one side of her face was singed and she struggled to carry two kittens at once. She would drop one and then go back to get another. The third was trying to follow its mother on wobbly legs.

The little dragon quickly picked up the straggler, careful with her teeth, and carried it by the nape of its neck as the mother cat did. She led them all into the hole to hide with her. The kittens borrowed under her wings and shivered. The tabby lay down beside her, thoroughly exhausted. She was asleep in seconds. The little dragon inspected her and saw that she would heal from her injuries.

As the dragon lay in the hole with the kittens waiting for the sun to rise, she didn’t feel quite as helpless anymore, or as small. She would protect whatever remained. The priestess had addressed her as a holy guardian and that is what she would become, the same as her parents before her.

***

The young dragon rested on her favorite rock overlooking the ruins of the temple. She stretched her wings to soak up the afternoon sunlight. The nights were still chilly but the days were warming with the promise of an early spring. Her scales caught the light like a mosaic of polished gemstones: amethyst purple, emerald green, and ruby red.

The same precious stones that the humans had inset into their depictions of the dragons within the temple. The art was still there, buried under charred beams. The rain had washed away most of the ash. Some of the color now showed though.

A year had passed since that horrible night. The cherry tree in the ruined temple courtyard had grown taller and was in bloom once more. It’s limbs were blackened on one side. Their charred remains stood in stark contrast to the pink and white blossoms sprouting on its other side.

The little dragon had grown as well. She was now the size of one of the mules the traders used to lead in long lines, laden with wears. The temple cats didn’t hunt with her anymore. In the absence of humans, the mice had become scarce and besides, they no longer made a good snack. The cats had found other small game in the woods, young rabbits and plump birds. The dragon had found other game as well. Sometimes she would bring back the soft parts of a deer or mountain goat for her old feline friends to feast on.

Only the stone structures had survived the fires. Many of the animals had been taken by the men that night. Others had wandered off into the forest and turned feral. The herb gardens grew wild and untended, the vegetable beds were choked with weeds. The men had taken the bodies of her mother and father away along with the bodies of the humans they had killed. None of her siblings had returned. She was the only one who remained to guard the temple.

Cherry blossoms fell like a soft pink snow around her and she gazed down to watch them land in the water of the river, to be carried off by the currents towards a not too distant cascade of waterfalls. The rock bridge that led to the temple island was slowly crumbling and every now and again a loud plop would indicate that another of its stones had fallen loose and dropped down into the water.

Early on the evil men had returned several times to gloat and to check for survivors. Whoever had survived to flee had not returned though. Back then she would hide in the lush growth up on the rocks and close her third eyelid over her glinting obsidian eyes so no light would catch on them. She would listen to their conversations. She now understood that they feared and hated the people who had lived there. They were part of a larger group which had led a campaign against the old ways. They thought they had eradicated magic from their lands.

The young dragon surveyed the grounds she protected. Hazy blue wisps danced around the cats lounging beneath the tree. They swirled about the fish and the water in the river. Even the stones had a spark of blue in them. The temple nearly glowed with the azure essence where it coalesced.

What the evil men did not understand was that the magic didn’t come from the temple or the priestess’ spells. The magic came from the earth itself and it still sang it's quiet, endless song, twining blue tendrils up from the dirt to invigorate everything it touched.

From deep within the dirt it would continue to sing until the next person came along who could hear it, who could touch it.

As it waited for their arrival, she too would wait.