Dragon Vòlkan

Kat Chapite (4)

Istwa dragon elektrik

(The history of the electric dragon)

The captives received a ride down the cliff in the basket that had been used to transport Violette up. The bard had thought the rope terribly frayed and asked how often it was replaced, the dragon assured him that it was replaced whenever it broke. There was a moment of tension and then Wakhangli laughed at his own joke; everyone laughed as well, though some were still not sure he was kidding.

They all waved and thanked the dragon, praising and singing to him until long after he was out of sight. They were more thankful to the clever elf, but they could say that only with their eyes. The dragon was wrong that they would betray him, surely they would have if they had escaped of their own effort, furthermore they owed him a life debt and resolved only to say that the dragon was unkillable and the way impossible. The bard did add the song to his repertoire and told many, many times the story of how he came to need it. Because of the over-the-top compliments of the dragon, many laughed at the song, although the minstrel knew it was the earnestness of his praise that saved the day.

As a reward for her bravery and mercy in battle, the dragon decided to take his fraulein on a trip some days later. Arachne was left in charge and loaded them with goodies. They soared above the sea, the water reflecting the sunlight like thousands of sparkling diamonds in the ripples of the waves. It was a marvelous feeling. A small, sandy, island jutted out with a few palm trees. The dragon spoke, “I served Kaiser Johan for 23 years as a kommodore in the navy. I was quite the specialist at combat on the waves as my lightning breath could destroy masts rendering boats dead in the water. If they were damaged and wet, my weapon was like a fireball bringing ruination to everyone on board. Usually the boats did not immediately sink, which made the work very lucrative. On one particular occasion though, the opponent’s flagship did sink, right below us. It’s too bad as it surely had the army payroll on it as well as many other shiny objects.”

“I do not know what a kommodore is.” she said as she surveyed the surface of the water with curiosity.

“A kommodore is a rank above naval captain, but below admiral. Admirals do not ordinarily fight, but have very nice hats. They wander around on ships far from the battle giving orders to other ships. It is a dull business. I would launch from a large ship and take to the air bringing terror to all who saw me. Usually they surrendered, but sometimes they fought with ballistae.” He could tell another question was coming so he added, “A ballista is a big speargun. They are very painful.”

“I have not heard of Kaiser Johan, why did you leave him? It seems he paid well and you were proud of your service.”

“Do the Elves teach nothing of human history? He conquered twenty nations and ruled seven seas. I did not leave him, he left this world as humans so quickly do. That was nearly 200 years ago now. The money I made there was enough for a very fine hoard. I squirreled it away on Volkan during my service and then took a bit extra as my pension when his empire crumbled into infighting after his death. I’ve supplemented it with clever trades and the occasional raid ever since.”

“I have never seen so much treasure as you have. You have surely been both brave and wise in amassing it. Show me again where the ship was sunk.”

The dragon circled once more and lined up the island with the setting sun at 45 degrees. He had not visited for a century, but he remembered the spot exactly. She nudged him with her heels and he went down so she could see the spot. He was caught up in reverie as he remembered dodging rocks, spears and arrows weaving in and out and finally letting loose with a stupendous bolt of lightning that cracked the mast at its base, electrocuted a dozen men and resounded like the hammer of a mighty God. He could hear the wails and shrieks as the ship capsized from the weight of the main mast suddenly falling like a tree.

He was startled when Violette plunged into the water from his back with no warning. She did not even make a splash. Has she passed out? Slipped? He had no idea what to make of it as he made the painfully slow circle to find her again. She was gone! Gone!!! Vanished beneath the navy hued waves. He was heartsick as he cursed himself for his carelessness. The dragon circled for an hour before landing on the tiny island. He had brought a picnic lunch for both of them: some nice Elvin bread and cheese for her and a goat carcass for him, but he had no appetite. He kept scanning the water hoping that by some miracle she would come to the surface, even dead there might be some hope with magic of reviving her. He wept for the first time since he had been a hatchling. He made several more patrols but it was dark now and he curled up in a miserable ball on the island not knowing what to do. No one could see the mighty dragon in such a state!

The tinkle of treasure awoke him. He thought it must be some kind of dream, he often had dreams of finding treasure. But then there was poking, “Get up sleepyhead! I found the pay chest just where you said. It took some work to get it loose though, all kinds of barnacles and things.”

“You what?” The dragon replied in a daze. She explained it again as if to a small child. “Why are you not dead?” He asked simply. “You were under the water for at least six hours, yes?”

“I’ve always liked the water. I could always impress the other children with how long I could stay under. Even the pearl divers could not outlast me. I suffer no distress as you can see, I’m quite fine and I’ve found you this big treasure.” She showed him the gold coins in an ancient chest. “I’m starving! Let’s eat!” She dug into their supplies and he suddenly found himself hungry. He would not put out of his mind this feat though, there was more to her than an elf could do. Had she hidden a potion and taken it? The fall alone should have killed her.

Violette knew what her secret was but she was not sure she wanted to expose it to the dragon yet. Perhaps he could tell by the look flashing in her violet orbs, or the lines of her frown in her narrow face. Her lilac toned skin seemed to glitter in the night. The elf herself was shiny, he had never seen an elf glitter under the moon before in all his 300+ years. He found the sight more wondrous than the feeling of soaring in the sky.

She knew very little about him other than his vast wealth, which was meaningless in her world. She did not comprehend his pride in the efforts of a long-ago war. The Elves had no need for war; it was beneath them. Thinking back to her studies for a short time letting the moment pass. “Have you ever heard of a cleric?” she inquired of him as she ate the last of the goats’ cheese he had brought her. He had been pleased she liked the fig loaded sweet made by the giant poisonous spider chef. He avoided telling her that he had such a large beast for a cook, as often in his experience females did not like spiders.

“Clerics are healers and occasionally miracle workers, windbags that proclaim the glory of deities who do not care enough to show up for centuries on end. Clerics cannot pierce my armor, or withstand my sizzling blast.” He curled up again, encircling her. The night was chilly and the sea was whipped up on every side. He was glad she was alive.

She now rubbed her arms to stay warm with a soft somber look on her face. “I am studying to be a cleric among my peoples; I was training as a purest when I was taken.″ Her face showed much pain as she said this. He could tell the orcs had put her through a lot.

“I am deeply sorry my dear little one there will never be a time to return to your homelands for such a reason, for I have imprinted upon you. A dragon’s shared power is enough to taint such a pure weapon. For my power is one of the greatest in all the lands. Have you not felt its glory yet?” it was a rhetorical end to his usual conceit, yet she saw past it… underneath. He did not lie to her. Much had changed between them and inside herself.

She looked around at the moon behind thick clouds. It is going to storm soon,” she paced around, seeming to be nervous of the moisture. “Please… let us make it back to your home…” She patted his scales. She was always amazed at how rough they were, looking smooth yet feeling like a rough fish.

“No,” he answered simply, “sleep inside my coils, you will be fine.” He did not say how dangerous it was to fly in a storm. It was easy to lose one’s way and if injured by wind or a collision he could die, he was not a strong swimmer.

Violette started to become more frantic as the oncoming storm progressed. She asked him with fear dripping in her voice. “Will your coils and wings keep me dry?” She began to fumble with the empty space that had once held her pearl necklace stolen by the orcs.

“Hush little one,” he told her now, “you just spent all afternoon underwater and now you fear a few drops?” He put the bags that had brought their supplies and arranged them as a sort of bed and blanket for her. He surrounded her then picked up the treasure chest placing it in with her. Violette knew if she got wet in front of the dragon her secret would no longer be hers to keep. She thought of a way to remedy this. “I swam, yes, but sleeping out in the rain will give me a Fae fever. The result of that could take days to recover. Can you keep me warm?” She nibbled her lip with worry trying to settle into the makeshift bed.

He dumped the coins from the chest, leaving the ones that were not gold inside. He put it a short distance away and then zapped it with lightning. He picked up the white-hot chest and put it against his scales in the chamber he had made within his coils. The heat radiated like a roaring fireplace. As he faded to sleep, he thought about the fact that he was willing to put up with her stupendous impudence and also to possibly damage the chest, even if it was not very valuable without the gold. The elf was more important to him than the treasure?! A strange sentiment, but either way he was pleased to have her around. It was better than being alone.

For her part, she was rather happy that he had listened to her concerns, although he had been, as usual, curt and impatient. The sand was nice and soft, the sacks were so large that one was like a sleeping bag the other like a pillow once folded. The material of both was most marvelous, just like silk. The dragon had paid attention to her. He had openly expressed displeasure at her constant need for better or new. Yet here this bedding was the color she adored most in the world. A bright burnt orange. It reminded her of fall when the tree’s turned over. The ‘walls’ of her circular chamber rose up and there was a strange and comforting glow from the chest. The dragon’s breathing was rhythmic in sleep, he did not snore. The sound of the waves and the storm were muffled, seeming distant. She found herself singing to him. In the darkness she called him ′ tu es mon soleil’in her spoken tongue it means ‘you are my sun.’ She fell asleep content to rub his scales softly. She felt completely safe and cozy here.