A Dragon's Loss

They surround me, standing in a semi-circle. There must be at least a hundred of them. I hear more of them; what sounds like a thousand footsteps tromping through my woods, though I cannot see them. They are planning an ambush. That is fine; I’ve fought armies before, larger armies than this one. This will be over before it truly starts if it comes down to a fight.

Three men come forward. Sunlight reflects off their golden armor. These men are important; the others wear only leather vests. As if that will protect them from sharp teeth and claws. The man in the middle removes his helm. He seems more a boy, no more than twenty, and his face appears thin, sickly. The armor gives the illusion of making him seem broader, stronger. It is a wonder he manages to hold himself upright. The man on his left

is tall and imposing. The man on the right is not a man, but a woman, and she too is tall and imposing. The boy in the middle needs them to show the strength he lacks. The three of them watch me, the boy opens his mouth, about to speak, but the woman leans over to whisper in his ear. A flicker of irritation crosses the boy’s face.

I am laying curled around my stone tower in my woods, my head resting on my front legs, like a cat curled contentedly on a lap. My wings are tucked close to my serpentine body. The sun warms me, and I want to lay waste to the army coming for what lays in my tower because they disturb my peace. But I wait, for I have done this for longer than the kingdom this army hails from has existed. I slowly blink, and the two men and the woman shift.

The boy clears his throat. “Beast! We are here to claim the girl in the tower. Hand her over and no harm shall come to you.” His voice is raspy, grating, like he does not often speak.

I huff a sigh through my nose, boredom glazing my eyes. “You must know that does not work. You are here, you know what’s in my tower, so you must have heard tales, read the stories.” I lift my head, tilt it, gazing solidly at the boy whose dark eyes widen. I smell the sharpness and sourness of fear. I almost smile. “You know I cannot simply let you take it.”

I hear the boy swallow, and the tall man steps forward, slightly ahead of the boy, and I see the boy frown. “Stay back, my prince,” the man murmurs. My eyes slide to him. This man masks his fear better. “I am Commander-”

“I care not who you are. Leave my woods and no harm will come to you and your army.”

“We are not leaving, Beast, until we have what we came for,” the boy snarls. The boy nods, and the woman gestures, and the sounds of swords drawing, of crossbows loading, of spears levelling prick my ears. There is the pattering sound of heavy boots as the rest of the army enters the clearing from their hiding spots. I twist and turn my head, gathering my bearings, sizing up my opponents. I slowly uncoil. Everyone takes a step back, necks craning as they watch me rise to my full height, my head coming to the top of my tower. There is only a small square window that looks in on the thing posing as a young woman. She sleeps, the same as it has been for millennia. How it will continue to be for millennia.

“You will be claiming nothing today but your lives. Leave. Do not make me say it again.”

The boy’s brow furrows and his lips purse. “We need what’s in that tower, Beast,” he spits out. “We are fighting a war.”

“There is always a war.” I raise a claw dismissively towards my tower. “That is not the way,” I say. I bend my neck, my face meeting his and my red eyes gaze into his dark ones. I feel sword tips at my throat. I am not worried. “I have been here before you and your army ever existed and I will be here long after you are dust. That woman up there is not what you think. She will bring only pain and misery and death,” I say, hoping this boy understands my severity. She sleeps for a reason.

He says nothing for a long moment. Then, “War is pain and misery and death. I’m simply stopping it.” The boy nods and I feel the swords puncture my throat.

Black blood splatters the faces of the man and woman. I shake them off and they fall to the ground, the swords embedded in my neck. It hurts, but it will not kill me. The boy steps back as his army charges, a few soldiers surrounding him and acting as guards. Arrows and spears and more swords glance off my scales; some blows land on my legs and on my belly, and a few more on my neck. It is my belly and my wings I need to be careful about.

I swing my tail, knocking men and women down. I hear their bones crunch and snap. The sound no longer bothers me. I am slow, though. It has been years since I have had to fight, so I am rusty. But their army is small, albeit well-trained. The boy stands back, his army doing the work. I hoped he would listen to reason, but sometimes arrogance consumes them, especially in younger boys who have something to prove. And I think this boy has a lot he must prove.

I am more winded than I thought I would be as I continue stomping and swinging my body to crush men and women, but there are less of them now; the numbers dwindled. Confidence comes to me as the boy looks as if he is ready to order a retreat, and I smile, even as swords and spears nick my skin. Soon they will be gone, and I will be doing what I am meant to be doing.

Before I can speak, to tell the boy to flee, a horn blasts. A long, low sound and the boy looks straight at me. He is now the one to smile, but there is a grimace hiding beneath it. I do not like it. I am frozen, waiting to see what comes after that horn blast. Is there another sound there? Just below that horn…

A spear stabs into my leg and I nearly crumble. I need to remember this fight is not yet over, they are still trying to get to the tower. I roar and chomp at whoever stabbed me, catching their arm and tossing them into the air and crushing them in my jaw. Anger courses through me.

My head snaps up. I look into the trees. I see... men? Large men. I hear their heavy footsteps crunching leaves and sticks. They are what I heard, just under that horn. They burst through the trees.

I cannot see how many there are; they are moving too fast. Faster than I have seen any human move before. They are broader, taller, stronger. I falter as they get closer. Their skin is gray. I would think they were sick, except no person moves that fast.

Then they are on me.

A spear in my neck, blood rushing. The gray-skinned man holding the spear looks into my eye. There is nothing there. No fear, no confidence, no hesitation, no pity. What are these things?

I feel a sword in my leg, another sword piercing my scales and sinking into my side. I roar in pain and fury. These things can kill me; they can get through my scaly armor. I begin to flap my wings, trying to get airborne, to higher ground and to collect myself. The air that blows knocks the boy and his remaining army over. I feel my body lift, feet leaving the ground.

Then there is an excruciating pain. The worst pain I have felt in a long time. I fall to the ground. There is a hole in my wing; a ray of light shines through it. I scream, a scream wholly of a dragon in pure agony. The humans cover their ears, but the gray-skinned things are unaffected. I try to stand but swords and spears go through my wings holding me down, like nails in a coffin, and I roar louder. The pain is too much; I cannot move.

My breath wheezes, and the boy kneels in front of me. He is about to say something, but a hand lands on his shoulder and shoves him aside.

This man looks just like the boy, but older, rougher, harder. A brother. The eldest, if I had to guess. The true ruler of whatever kingdom this army calls home. This man does not smile, and there is no emotion behind his eyes, except... disappointment?

“The stories said a monster guarded this tower. I did not expect it to be slain so easily.” The man jerks his head and a dozen of those gray-skinned things rip the spears from my wings and the swords from my legs.

I think my pain and suffering can be heard all over the world.

My breath comes in panicked gasps. “Show his belly,” the man commands. I feel the gray things’ hands on me. I wish I could weep.

“Do not do this. It cannot leave the tower. It will be the end of you and all you know,” I plead as I lay on my side, my belly exposed. I know what is going to happen, and I fear it. I have lived for millennia with one purpose: the thing in the tower cannot be out in the world. She is too dangerous. I am a being older than thought, older than the dirt beneath me, and I have been brought down by arrogant men who think that woman in the tower will win them a war.

That is all they would use her for, thinking that is her only purpose, believing she is simply a weapon to use one time. Oh, yes, she will end their war. And then she will end them.

“Please,” I rasp. My eyes plead with the boy, the one who was here first. But he does not pay attention to me. He instead looks at his brother, a scowl on his face.

The man takes his sword, a decorative thing but just as deadly as a plain one. “I have defeated you, Dragon. I will take your treasure now.”

The sword rips through my stomach. Blood gushes, soaking the ground, soaks the man who has brought the end of the world.

As I die, I feel it. Her. I feel the evil she possesses. And I feel her wake.