Non-Intrusive, Ethical Approaches

An oppressive boom in the mountains above, shook the ground, and reverberated through the bodies of the farm hands, who worked the crops in the valley below. Needing no further prompts, the farmers ditched their scythes onto the ground, and ran full sprint whilst screaming at the top of their lungs," it's COMING," looking back over their shoulders to check as they did so. The watchtower guard began vigorously swinging the rope attached to the large bell, nestled in the tower above him, rhythmically tugging it to further alert others of the incoming horror that swiftly came for them. Secondary booms and cracks made hearts pulsate quicker, and urged the retreating farmhands to move their already exhausted limbs, quicker. Vozomir watched on nervously from the safety of his tower, encouraging the scurrying folks with screams of, “come onnnn,” from all directions as they ran like ants fleeing to the safety of their nest. He tried to keep an eye on as many people as possible to ensure nobody would be left behind, and each time he saw someone trip and fall in sheer panic, he’d gasp and point, but was immediately relieved when he saw others running by grab and pull them back to their feet, and get them going again. The ensuing terror approached still, giving relentless reminders of its force and terror. It was gathering momentum and as each second passed, rumbling faster and emitting steady booms as if some great giant was running towards them. The speed at which it moved uplifted dust from the rocks and ground, and now a great, dark blanket of dust had gathered, like a menacing cloud concealing terrors within.

When all were assumed to have returned to safety, the portcullis was clanked shut. Although, on his final scan of the landscape Vozomir spotted a young girl who was stood statue like, out in the fields, and seemingly unafraid, staring out towards the incoming beast with her two hands stretched out, as if she was willing it to stop. When the dust cloud finally reached her, she did not flinch even up to the point of being engulfed and consumed by the cloud, which made Vozomir wince and exclaim an agonising weep of, “noooo,” before ducking for cover below the battlements just in the nick of time, as he felt the cloud of dust woosh over his head and darken the whole sky.

When the dust finally settled and filtered away with the day’s light breeze, Vozomir began edging his head over the battlements to catch a glimpse of the cause of the chaos, and the resulting damage. As he cautiously peeked over the wall, he saw a peppering of boulders in varying sizes, some as small as cabbages, others the size of houses, nested into craters they’d created. The terror that came for them this day, was not what they thought, but instead some kind of rocky eruption, that had flung, fractured mountain pieces upwards, sending them rolling down the mountainsides, towards the settlement at high speeds. Feeling safe to do so, Vozomir stood up and began scanning the position he remembered the girl being in, expecting to see a pool of guts and blood, he was quite astonished at what he saw, whispering to himself, “she passed the trial.” The girl was completely blackened by the dust cloud that swept over her, but all in all, she was intact and still had her hands stretched outwards in the same position. What was most unbelievable of all was her hands. Both of her hands were touching against a twenty-foot-tall boulder that she appeared to have stopped. She looked like a scorched, wood-carved miniature in comparison to the gigantic boulder shadowing over her. Vozomir shouted over, “Girl, are you okay?” The girl looked at him and gave a nod, then immediately collapsed to the floor.

Dinya couldn’t remember much after seeing her hands touching the roughness of the large boulder towering over her and looking at some man shouting at her, before suddenly passing out, but she now appeared to have awoken in a bed and was covered in blankets. She could hear voices in eager discussion in a room nearby, and just about made out the conversation being had, “I sore it wit mi own eyes, sirs. It wer' like she wer' in sum sorta trance, she din’t waiver or nothin’, she stood fast, n’ I sore ‘er stop thi boulder with ‘er two 'ands.” Nobody spoke for sometime until a voice interjected the absence of noise,”the trial of the Giant's Discontent was passed, the giants believe she is worthy enough, she is the chosen one,” the voice said excitedly. There was a moment of contemplation before a different voice counterpointed, "or she was just lucky," he paused then carried on,” mathematically speaking, the chances of her surviving seems pretty reasona..." he was cut off by the first voice, "maths, smaths, Prothos, the prophecy engraved in the mountain side says it clearly - the one who can survive the trial of the Giant's Discontent, is the chosen one,” there was a laugh of derision from the first voice, and a snarky reply followed, “Mayor, with all due respect - prophecy, smophecy,” followed by a short snigger, “You can’t be serious? The prophecy is nonsense, we all know the stone mason’s son took some questionable mushrooms, and his imagination engraved nonsense onto the rocks…we can’t live our lives based on the carved graffiti of every drunk or hallucinating dimwit.”

The mayor who stood with his arms folded, was noticeably shaking his head in disagreement, and retorted, "your logical reasoning has no place here, Prothos. We live in a land of dragons, for goodness sake. Mathematically speaking, they shouldn't bloody exist, but here they are, mythical and all -flapping about above us each autumn, and shall soon be here to torment us," he sat down to light his pipe and take a few puffs, “ further so, you are not looking at the bigger picture here. You may not believe the prophecy, but everybody, including the King, does. Word will spread and whether you like it or not, Dinya, your sweet protégé, must fight the dragons for us, and free the scorched lands of their curse,” he reached a hand out to comfort Prothos, “I’m sorry Prothos,” and left the room. The mayor’s foot steps got quieter as he gained distance and Dinya heard a shout of instructions which echoed in the courtyard,“Jopri, send word to the king of the Scorched Lands, we have the chosen one.”

They say that the mountains move because the great giants that slumber there are having nightmares about the end of times, and twitch and fidget in anxiety, causing great boulders to fling up and crash down like meteorites onto nearby settlements. The kingdom of Canttabria, was unfortunate in this sense, being situated in the centre of a vast mountain range that circled them, and being isolated from all other humanity. The wise man, Prothos, called Canttabria a poisoned apple. On the outside, it looked picturesque with plentiful green planes for crops, and sparkling rivers and lakes abundant with fishes. Though, what he referred to as the ‘poisonous centre’, was the annual influx of dragons to the surrounding mountain range, each Autumn. Every year, the dragons felt a biological urge to migrate from some wretched place they haunted in the Spring and Summer, known as the Scorched Lands, for obvious reasons. The scorched lands is a place, plentiful of food for the dragons, and is where they fattened up before they came to the Canttabrian mountains to winter. What they fattened up, was the issue. The dragons didn't maintain a varied diet or give too much thought about balancing out their diet with nuts or leafy, garnishes. No. They knew what they liked and they ate just that, but 'just that' happened to be mankind, and mankind didn't like that, being sentient beings with feelings and emotions, and all.

When they arrived to Canttabira, they engaged in very serious mating rituals which consisted of males competing in battles to the death in the mountains above, whilst the females perched and spectated, taking note of who fought impressively. It was quite the show for the settlers, who would stretch their necks up high to watch the action above in awe; the dragons would beat the air with their beastly, yet gracious wings, searching for a competitor, and once zoned in an a target, they would thrust forwards and begin a high-speed pursuit, emitting bursts of flames upon their opponent, who would try to dodge the flames. This was even more impressive in the night's sky and would illuminate the whole valley in bursts of light. Once the pursing dragon got in range of its victim, it would grapple and constrain its wings sending it sinking to the ground at high speed, then just before the impact on some harsh, jagged rock, the attacker would release its victim, flap vigorously upwards to save itself from impact, and its opponent would smash into the rocks to an immediate, blunt, mushy death.

Prothos checked on Dinya and offered her some consoling words, cooled her brow with fresh, damp linen and got her to sip some water mixed with honey mead and herbs, before leaving her. He told her they’d talk later and that he needed to consult the archives before making a plan to help her defeat the dragons. He gave her some light reading to study for the moment, handing her some books that he believed any warrior facing dragons would probably like to read - Dragon Fire, does it really hurt?, The Naturalists Guide to Dragon Kind: An in depth study of the Fire-Breathing Beasts, and Slaying Dragons for Beginners. Prothos, remarked as he walked out of the room, "Every great battle, requires solid research, know your enemy, Dinya."

Dinya lay in bed with her burden of destiny, surrounded by the books and began studying. For as long as she could recall, the dragons were pests that cursed mankind and nobody knew what to do with them. Sure, knights and warriors were sent to deal with them, with promises of land and riches on their return, but non ever returned, which led to the fixation on prophecies. It wasn't long before people believed these prophecies, and before anybody knew it, the King of the whole land sent out proclamations of reward to each settlement, promising infinite riches to anyone who could solve the issue. A door slamming downstairs, quickly snapped her out of her daydreaming state. Prothos was back from the archives. She had a plan which she knew Prothos would guffaw at, but she felt comfortable that the powers of prophetic destiny were guiding her towards the right choices. Prothos struggled into the room heaving a large, wooden chest, which had a pyramid of scrolls atop of it, that he'd carefully held in place with his chin. He dropped the chest thudding onto the wooden floor in fatigue, causing the scrolls to spread and scatter across the room. Then started picking each one up whilst instructing Dinya to," open the chest and put on the armour, and give them weapons a whirl too," while he sat at the table and organised the scrolls. Dinya pulled out the chest items and grabbed the armour first, which consisted of layers of intricate, shiny emerald scales. She gasped at the sight of it, looked over at Prothos and inquisitively asked,"is this dragon skin armour? Where did you get it?," Prothos smiled and looked back at her, replying, "It was fashioned from a dead dragon that fell from a battle by the smithy.” Excitedly, she put on the armour and headpiece which covered every part of her body, and grabbed the sword and shield to get a feel for them. Prothos stood up, looked her up and down, and informed her," the weapons come from the ancient ones’ crypts, and are thought to have special powers,” he said smiling at her.

His face took a serious turn now, and she sensed instructions coming, “Time is short, Dinya! The dragons arrive by dusk and you must leave immediately, I’ve read the scrolls and they hold no solutions, we have to,” he gulped , “we have to assume the prophecy is true, and it will guide you,” he lovingly embraced her, kissed her head, and whispered, “good luck my sweet child, I will be willing for your success, now off you go.” Dinya looked him in his tear-filled eyes and promised she’d return. She walked out of the house, to see streets lined with folks, who wept for her. She exited the gates, took one last look back at the Mayor stood atop of the wall, and walked on.

“Mayor, sire?,” said Vozomir from above.

“Yes, Vozomir, he responded,

“D’yer think she’er will er kill ‘em?” he asked.

“No, Vozomir, I think she’s toast,” he responded ,”toast.”

Dinya walked up the mountain paths with the plan of getting as high as possible before dusk. She didn’t have time to tell Prothos of her approach to dealing with dragons, but she was going to tell him that her method would be to take an ‘ethical, non-invasive approach, that would not distress the dragons in anyway," and imagined Prothos looking at her in utter disbelief, telling her,” these are fire breathing 20ft ,tall lizards. They’d roast you into charcoal before you could say 'good to meet you, I am your local non-invasive pest control, could you stop eating us?' She laughed at the though of it, ditching her weapons and armour to the ground. She could not confront the dragons wearing the skin of their kind -too disrespectful. She decided that she had to approach this peacefully and had to look unthreatening. She camped for the night under an overhanging rock with no fire and ate some bread and cold meats from her satchel before slumbering for the night.

She awoke at dawn and stretched out her limbs. Her neck ached from sleeping on the rocks. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and felt her whole body completely freeze as she processed the scene in front of her eyes - a gathering of ten to twelve dragons, each perched upon some boulder, just watching her. ‘Why am I not dead already?,’ She thought. They looked as if they were waiting for her to make the first move, yet she dare not move, having never been so close to the gigantic, fearsome creatures before - fear overwhelmed her. She had to overcome it, she was here for a reason. She stood up slowly and brushed dirt from her clothing, then began to speak, assuming they could understand, “Dear honourable Dragon kind,” she stuttered with nerves but rallied on, “the Giant’s Discontent places me in front of you today, I am the chosen one.” There was a silence apart from the gusts of wind that whistled between the rocks. She continued, “You kill our kind without provocation, our people suffer each year, and I ask you to please stop the murder of our people.” With those words, the dragons growled and spat flames skywards, causing Dinya to stumble and fall back. She heard a rough, voice speak to her within her mind, “The Giant’s trial permits you to speak to us without harm, youngling, but we will not be instructed by mortal kind. Say your solution and we will consider your words.” She stood up again and gathered courage, “I propose this honourable dragon kind; humans and dragons can live together in peace, I bring you a selection of meat alternatives, which we can offer you in abundance, as long as you stop the senseless murdering of our kind.” Dinya, having read about dragon diets in the book - The Naturalists Guide to Dragon Kind - mentioned how dragons used to eat livestock that man now farms but keeps to themselves. She assumed that sharing the cows, goats, sheep, and chickens, would appease them, and the dragons only killed and ate mankind in retaliation, for man being too selfish to share these resources. She pulled out a platter of meats for the dragons to buffet on, made promises to share these with the dragons from hereon, bowed politely, and left them to their feast to consider her terms.

Vozomir and Prothos stood on the battlements scanning the horizon, watching for any activity from the dragons atop the mountains, and hoping not to see a feasting frenzy on poor Dinya’s body. They saw none but were shocked to see the girl walking down the mountain side. Vozomir excitedly rang the bell to indicate Dinya’s return and people gathered and came to see her and listen to her words. She stopped in front of the gates and told them of her meeting with the assembly of dragons, what they spoke of, and how she offered them peace for the price of livestock, “We must share with them, “ she said, “and they will give us peace, I believe it.” They mayor laughed at her and spoke down from the wall,” They have tricked you, you foolish girl, we are all dead, dead, you have killed us all.” Dinya looked him dead in the eyes and replied to him in the most serious tone, “Mayor, I am the chosen one, and this is the way. I believe the dragons will agree to the terms, as a gesture, please put ten cows roped to the fence in the field yonder, you will see, they will come, and they will give us peace.”

The gathering crowd erupted with claps and cheers, and the farmhands escorted ten cows to the fields, roped them to fences, came back and the whole settlement watched in awe as a flight of dragons swooped down from the mountains to take their offerings. Dinya smiled, and quietly said to herself, “Non-intrusive, ethical approaches.”

The End