by Bryan Davis
Clefspeare let out a long, spark-filled sigh. “The corrupted ones have been our downfall, Merlin, as you prophesied. A fallen dragon is the most detestable beast on Earth, and the Book chooses them well to symbolize the father of lies.”
“And who can know,” Merlin added, “whether corruption hides in the hearts of the remnant? Hartanna is wise, but she cannot always detect the seeds of darkness that spread evil shadows within.”
“Indeed,” Clefspeare replied, closing his eyes briefly. He opened them again and nodded toward Arthur. “And the king? What is his role?”
“We will need his help after the deed is done. I can trust no other.”
Clefspeare stared at the king long and hard. “I know of his deeds, but I do not know his heart.”
King Arthur strode boldly forward and stood directly in front of the dragon. “How else can a man’s heart be known, or even a dragon’s, if not by his deeds? To me, you look very much like the dragon that murdered my brother and sister right outside the very walls of Camelot, the beast that Sir Devin slew only last week. Against my earlier judgments, I was persuaded by the wise prophet to come to your lair, in order to help the race that left me bereft of my beloved siblings. He has recounted your many great deeds, deeds that have been explained away by your enemies as mere selfish desire for treasure. I now know why you accept the gifts of the wealthy after you do your mighty works. How well I also know of the appearance of these treasures in the homes of the poor, benefiting widows and orphans who now have good food on their tables and warm clothes on their backs. Your deeds have set you apart from the others, Clefspeare, and I have come to grant Merlin’s request and aid you in your time of need.”
Clefspeare bowed once again, this time with more agility. “Well spoken, wise king. I suspect then that Merlin has explained why I must keep some of the treasure for myself. My bed is but a humble collection. Not like Goliath’s, I’m afraid; his treasure is what makes him so strong.”
Merlin picked up his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and walked up to the dragon, placing a hand on his right flank. “Do not envy that which is gained by evil means, Clefspeare. True strength lies in wisdom. Goliath has chosen his path, and his end will be destruction. I hear grumblings that the slayers have already darkened his door. Your shroud has been sufficient for your needs and is the result of your honest labors, not the greedy lust of a fallen spirit.” The prophet gestured for the king to join him. “I have summoned all the noble dragons that remain to Bald Top. Come, now. We must fly to the meeting place.”
Clefspeare’s voice changed to a growling rumble. “Master Merlin! You and the king must climb on my back. Make haste. I smell danger.”
Merlin reached for the torch and stamped out its light. With lightning quick moves he helped Arthur climb across the dragon’s scaly back. The spiny middle ridge made it easy for the men to hold on, and the scales’ luminescent glow guided their way. Merlin, accustomed to such a ride, held with only one hand, keeping his other hand firmly gripped on his saddlebag. “Do slayers approach?”
“Most likely, and they are already within my walls.”
“They must have followed us,” Merlin said.
The dragon roared. “Your Sir Devin is quite the zealous one, Your Highness.”
“It couldn’t be!” the king protested. “He was sound asleep when we left. Merlin saw to that.”
“No time to argue. Heads down and hold on!”
“Wait!” Merlin shouted. “The candlestone!”
“No time! And I will not fly with that cursed dragon’s bane!”
With a great flap of his wings, the dragon rose from the ground and hovered in the midst of the cave. After taking in a deep breath, he blew a raging river of fire through both his mouth and nostrils. Then, slowly at first and still breathing fire, he moved forward into the stream, floating easily on the cushion of flaming air like a dragonfly in the wind. As they passed through the tunnel, accelerating as they traveled, Merlin and Arthur peered through the passing fire, flames that bounced in all directions with the beating of the dragon’s wings. They could only see shadows, scurrying ghosts diving for cover in the rocks. Within seconds, Clefspeare burst out into the open and then almost straight up into the clear night sky.
“May God be praised!” Arthur cried out, both hands gripping the dragon’s spines. “What a magnificent beast!”
“Indeed!” Merlin called. “We have to get higher than their arrows can reach. With us on his back, he cannot turn to defend himself, so his underbelly is vulnerable.”
Arthur did not answer. He just held on tightly while the angle of ascent slowly leveled off. Finally, when they reached a safe altitude, Clefspeare spoke up. “I apologize, Your Highness, for the rough ride.”
The king took a deep breath in the rarified air. “No need, my good dragon. I was exhilarated. That was a masterful escape.”
“Could you tell if Sir Devin was among the attackers?” Merlin asked.
“No,” the king replied. “I saw only shadows.”
“I think I saw him,” Clefspeare said. “But his identity matters little to me. He is a slayer and cannot be trusted.”
Merlin looked out over the scene far below, a shifting gray canvas with firelight speckling the shadows cast by the ghostly moon. “I slipped a drug into Devin’s food to make him sleep, so I thought our journey would be secret. But there is no time to speculate. We are only moments away from the mountain.”
The light of two flashing torches filled the cave, and a pair of undulating shadows crawled along the walls. With every step of the dark images, an echoing clop replied, yet there was more silence than echo. The wary travelers sniffed the air and made their way ever so slowly toward the center of the main chamber.
“There is no hint of fresh kill to guide us,” the taller one said.
“No, my liege. In fact, the air is very clean, but I am sure his bed must be right in front of us. I see flashes of light.”
The two walked more boldly and then stopped again. The shorter man’s cheery voice gave away his darkened smile. “Sir Devin, all is not lost. We have the treasure.”
“Yes, Palin. It is much smaller than Goliath’s, but we will all be paid handsomely once again. Split it up in my presence and reserve the proper portions for God and for the king.”
“Of course, my liege,” Palin replied, stooping to collect the treasure. He carried a set of saddlebags and deposited the valuables piece by piece, cycling through the bags to make an even disbursement. “You are most gracious to give equal shares to us all, even though the others wait outside in fear.”
Devin surveyed the cave floor, taking care to hold his torch close to the ground. “What does the census say now?”
The squire pulled a scrap of parchment from his tunic and studied it for a moment before looking up again to address his master. “After your valiant conquest of Maven last week, and your extraordinary slaying of Goliath this morning, I know of only ten remaining. The Demon Witch, Hartanna, is next. She will pay for wounding you last summer, and I have already begun making a sketch of your eventual triumph.”
“All in good time, my friend. She did rip my leg, but it is merely part of our holy crusade. Wars are not won without loss of blood.” He continued gazing at the floor, kicking the pebbles in front of him as if searching for every last gem. “By our count, only ten of the demon spirits are left on the earth, and now that the king knows of Merlin’s conspiracy with them, I shall have the old wizard’s head by noon tomorrow.” He looked up from the ground and flashed the torch toward his squire. “Could you tell if the king was safe on the demon’s back?”
“Yes, from what I could see, my liege.”
Devin shook his head. “We nearly missed our part of the plan, but you, my good Palin, will be greatly rewarded. You awakened me from Merlin’s spell. Without you, we never would have found the dragon’s lair, and you were the only one brave enough to stay in the cave. Count out for yourself a double portion, and be sure to
commend yourself when you write all of this in the king’s chronicles.” Devin returned to his search, combing the floor with the light of his torch.
“Thank you, my liege. I will record every word.”
After sweeping more rocks to the side, Devin stopped suddenly and stooped close to the ground. He put his hand forward and then drew it back suddenly. “Palin, what is this?”
“Where, my liege?”
“This glowing ember on the floor, a stone that spills a faint beam of light.”
“Shall I touch it for you, my lord?”
“I am not a coward, Palin.” Devin picked up the stone between his right thumb and forefinger. With great interest, the two men huddled to study its peculiar shape, but they had to draw it closer to their faces when the light around them began growing dim.
“Our torches are going out,” Palin said.
“No. The flame lives; only the light dies. It is drawn to the stone.”
Devin closed his hand over the candlestone. Instantly, the light from the flames scattered throughout the cave again.
“I have heard legends about such a stone,” Devin said. “But why would it be here, in a dragon’s lair?”
A strange silhouette crossed the night’s skyscape: a dragon, not so unusual in this time period, and two riders, not completely unheard of, but with the lead rider sporting a wizard’s robe and the trailing jockey wearing a king’s circlet, it was a most unusual sight indeed. As is true with many of nature’s most curious events, no human had the pleasure of beholding this one; only a pod of dragons at Bald Top’s summit were in the area, and they seemed to pay no attention. To them, if you’ve seen one flying dragon, you’ve seen them all.
“Your Majesty,” Merlin called out. “Prepare to dismount.”
“Shall I just slide off the tail?”
“Yes. It is the safest and fastest way. Remember, find the clearing and watch the proceedings from the woods. The dragons will not sense you because you pose no danger. I know most of them, but until all is complete, it is best if you stay in hiding.”
“Agreed.”
“Ready yourself! He’s hovering over a clear spot. Go!”
The king slid across Clefspeare’s scaly hind portions, taking care to avoid the dragon’s spiny middle ridge. After three huffing pushes, he dropped down, safely planting his feet in soft turf. Clefspeare’s beating wings created a gusting breeze, and Arthur, leaning forward to keep his balance, slapped the dragon’s flank to signal his safety. The great dragon rose once again over the tree-filled mountain and toward a nearby clearing.
The grassy field at Bald Top was a perfect circle and made an ideal secret meeting place. As the highest hill in the region, no other land vantage point offered a view over the treetops surrounding it. As it was, Arthur became only the second human ever to see the Council of the Dragons. He watched from behind a tree that stood a few yards inside the edge of the woods. He wanted to make sure he was out of sight. There was no use taking unnecessary chances. Since he had heard that dragon voices carry well, he thought he would be able to listen even from this far away. And since the full moon shone brightly upon the open field and illuminated the shimmering dragons, Arthur was able to see the whole council.
He pointed at each dragon, one by one. “Let’s see, that’s eight, nine, ten, eleven, and Clefspeare makes twelve. Hmmm. Goliath isn’t here, so that’s two more than the count Sir Devin has given me.”
Although the dragons bore similar features, three of them differed from the other nine in color and size. Arthur guessed that these were gender differences, so, knowing Clefspeare, he was able to distinguish the sexes. The smaller females displayed a lighter tone, more of an orange and beige mixture in contrast to the reddish brown of the males. Since one of the females stepped forward to address their visitor, he assumed that the males were not dominant, at least not in the council meeting.
“Master Merlin, all are present, as you requested.”
“Thank you, Hartanna. You have been a great help. And all are in agreement?”
“Yes, Master Merlin. We have discussed the final preparations, and we are ready for the transformation.”
Merlin dismounted and threw his bag to the ground while Clefspeare joined the others. Hartanna’s head turned to follow the male dragon as he crossed her path of sight. “Clefspeare, I have not interviewed you personally,” she said. “I assume Master Merlin has prepared you?”
Clefspeare bowed his head graciously. “Yes, Hartanna. Diving into the human condition is an adventure that none of us covets, but we dragons do what we must do.”
“Well said, Clefspeare.” Hartanna turned back to the prophet and watched him expectantly, her wings gently folding and unfolding as she waited. Merlin reached into the pocket of his scarlet robe, and, even in the dark, his concern was obvious. “What troubles you, Master Merlin?” Hartanna asked.
“I just remembered that I had to leave the candlestone behind.” He smiled at the she-dragon. “It is of no consequence. It should not affect you after the transformation. Let us begin.” From his deep left pocket, he pulled out a skin flask and placed it in the middle of the semicircle of dragons. Then, standing in front of the solemn assembly, he addressed the council.
“The flask contains only wine, but those who drink it in faith will receive what God has promised. All who have their hearts prepared will be transformed, and when the fullness of the time has come, you will be restored to your original state. The slayers will eventually die out. Once they believe the dragons to be extinct, they will no longer train to battle your kind, and the poisoned hunger for dragon killing will cease to exist. When you return, there will be no fallen dragons to make the people fear you again.”
Hartanna stepped forward. “Then let us proceed. I volunteer to go first.”
“No one will change until all have tasted,” Merlin warned. “Otherwise, faith would be made sight before its time.”
The prophet then picked up the wineskin and lifted it toward the sky. “Heavenly Father,” he prayed, “King of the Universe, bless this wine. Fill it now with the seed of Adam so that these will bear his likeness, both in his glory and in his shame. They understand that the benefit of your presence will depart from them as they share in the human curse. They also understand that should they fall after the likeness of Adam’s sin, they must find their salvation through the Light of the World.”
Merlin turned toward the line of dragons, extending the flask as he walked their way. Hartanna lowered her head and opened her great mouth. Merlin, not quite sure how to administer the drink, raised the opening of the skin over her teeth and tipped it forward. At first it came out too quickly, spilling a bit over her jaws, but Merlin pulled back before he lost too much. Hartanna lifted her head, dramatically swallowing as she turned toward the others. “Be brave, my friends. The drink goes down without harm.”
One by one, Merlin gave the wine to the council. A few seemed tentative, but they all took it without much hesitation.
Clefspeare was the last dragon in line. “I look forward to shaking your hand,” he said to Merlin.
The old man bowed his head. “And I, yours.”
Clefspeare followed the ritual, and after he swallowed, the council of twelve waited in silence. For the first tortuous minute, nothing happened. Merlin decided to take a seat on the ground, but the dragons just stood and looked at each other expectantly.
Another minute passed, and then another. A few sets of dragons’ eyes took on worried looks, but Hartanna remained unmoved, and Clefspeare joined her at her side. “We have not been promised the hour,” he said, “only a result. We must have faith.”
“In the Maker,” Hartanna added, “not in Master Merlin.”
Several more minutes passed. Merlin continued to sit in silence, his legs crossed and his head bowed in prayer. Some of the dragons rested, too, lying on their bellies in the cool grass, while others were too nervous to do anything but stand and watch Merlin for any sign of what to do ne
xt. One tested his wings a few times to see if they still worked.
After what seemed to be an hour, but was in reality only about fifteen minutes, one of the males broke the silence. “He’s a fraud!”
Hartanna and Clefspeare turned as one to see a cowering dragon backing away from the rest of the council. “What did you say?” Hartanna asked.
“He’s a fraud! Merlin has made fools of us all. There was a second man riding on Clefspeare’s back. I saw him. He must be a slayer, and he will bring the others while we wait for this traitor’s potion to fail.”
Hartanna roared. “Silence, Gartrand! Will you destroy the faith of the others with your own infidelity?”
Gartrand flapped his wings in anger. “This is not faith. I, too, want to survive. Who ever wants to die? But we have stepped into the humans’ trap. Let us kill this evil sorcerer and fly away to safety.”
Merlin sat still, watching the verbal battle intently. Even when Gartrand moved forward to attack him, he sat unmoved. In a flash of wings and reddish glistening scales, Clefspeare flew to Merlin’s defense. He glided into Gartrand’s path and opposed the rebel, but when Clefspeare opened his mouth to attack, only hot air spewed forth. Then he turned to slash his foe with his tail, but when he swung, no tail appeared.
Gartrand backed away in fear while Clefspeare physically shrank. The dragon’s scales melted into smooth skin, his claws reshaped into fingers and nails, and his giant maw shriveled into the square-jawed face of a human male. Gartrand let out a piercing scream and took to the skies, still completely in dragon form.
Clefspeare turned to watch the rest of the council. Hartanna was farther along than the others, but all were going through the same metamorphosis. Her spiny top transformed into long, silky blonde tresses and her scales into the milky white skin of the northern Europeans of the time. All had the appearance of fully mature adults, perhaps in their late twenties to early thirties, and when the process was complete they gathered together in excited laughter.
Merlin calmly rose to his feet and carried his leather bag to the huddle. He opened it and started pulling out mounds of clothing, tossing various articles onto the ground. “Get dressed,” he said, in a matter-of-fact tone. “You are naked, and the king is watching.”
