James & the Dragon
Page 6
longing to prove themselves in battle. The King resisted allowing them this until he was informed by his scouts that the Baldars were making one final push with a force that far outnumbered the kingdom’s defenses.”
“Was that the battle of Elgon?” James asked.
“Aye, it was. So you know what happened.”
“Yes,” James answered. “Young Prince William was killed and Dwayne was to inherit the throne except he died before the King of a fever.”
“That is correct,” Farloft affirmed. “But, what you do not know is the most important part of the story.”
Farloft rose and went to the other side of the pool to lap a drink from the stream that ran into it. He looked up at the ceiling as if it were the stars in the sky and then continued.
“That night, after the battle of Elgon, there was a rumor round the camps that Dwayne could have saved Prince William, but failed to intervene so he would be the next heir to the throne. This rumor came to the King’s ear and he spent a sleepless night thinking of the ramifications of this tale if it were true.”
Farloft circled back around the pool and lay down once again by James as he worked.
“He had thought to announce the next day that Dwayne would be heir to the throne, now that William was dead. Could he trust his kingdom to a man who might not have gone to the aid of another who was like a brother to him? King Ludlow did not want to believe this ugly rumor. But who was to know if it be rumor or truth? There was one thing that King Ludlow knew for sure; he could not take a chance on making such a man heir and then giving him the ability to be invincible too. For if Dwayne inherited the kingdom, he would also inherit the sword, shield and dagger of the King.
“So that is how it came to pass that King Ludlow bestowed his magic weapons upon we three dragons. He knew if they were in our care, they would not fall into the wrong hands.”
James looked down at the dagger stuck in his belt. “This is that same dagger?”
“The same. Made by good James the Blacksmith years before your birth or your father’s birth. Given to me in trust by the finest king that ever ruled, King Ludlow.”
James came over and sat down on Farloft’s hind foot. Farloft curled his tail about the boy’s legs in affection. James sat with his back to Farloft, his head down. He removed the knife from his belt. “I don’t deserve to use this, Farloft.”
James threw one leg over the dragon’s tail so he could look at him and be honest to his face. “This is a dagger for kings and valiant men. I am just a peasant boy.”
“All kings and valiant men were once boys,” Farloft said softly.
“Yes, but I am not worthy.” James could feel the ruby against his thigh in his pocket. It felt as though it were burning a hole in his skin. “I am not even honest.”
“What do you mean?” Farloft asked.
James slid down off the dragon. “I stole from you,” he said, as he pulled the ruby from his pocket. “I took this ruby from your treasure the first day. I don’t even know why. I just wanted it. You don’t have to believe me, but I was going to put it back. You just haven’t left me alone long enough to do that.” James placed the jewel on the sand. Then laid the dagger beside it. “I’m sorry, Farloft. You’re the first one to care about me since my father and sister died and I betrayed you. Punish me however you like. I deserve whatever you do.”
Farloft poked at the ruby with one long claw. “I knew you had it. This ruby has been singing to me for days. I guess you did not hear it. That is fortunate for you. There is a wonderful tale about this ruby and how it came to me,” Farloft began in his story telling voice.
“I don’t want to hear the story of the ruby, Farloft,” James protested. “Don’t you understand? I just told you I stole from you.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Farloft replied tolerantly. “But you are sorry, are you not?”
“Well, yes, of course I am,” James said haltingly.
“Well, then that is all there is to be said about that.” Farloft pushed James back to sit on his hind foot with his nose. “Now listen carefully and I will tell you the story of the ruby, and how I came to have it, and why you stole it.”
“But how can you tell me why I stole it if I don’t know myself?”
“Because, I know the story of the ruby and you do not. Now stop talking and do me a favor, give a good scratch between my shoulder blades.”
James climbed up on Farloft’s back and scratched him hard where his wings met his back. He scratched so hard a number of the dragon’s scales flaked off and fell to the ground.
“Ummmm...That is good. A little lower James,” Farloft requested as he seemed to melt into the sand. James could feel the dragon getting lower and flatter on the ground below him.
A small puff of smoke escaped Farloft’s nostrils. “Thank you that will do, James.”
Farloft rolled gently onto his side and wrapped his tail round him. James climbed down and cuddled in the pocket between the dragon’s tail and side, atop his hind foot, polishing the pot was forgotten for the moment. James snuggled his toes under Farloft’s tail for warmth.
“Comfy?” Farloft asked. He really was growing to love this young lad. It had been many years since the dragon had anyone with whom he could enjoy a pleasant conversation and a good scratch. It was so much fun to pass on the history of the kingdom to ears that had never before heard the stories. As the storm raged outside, they sat or lay in the “crystal room,” and talked, and talked, and talked. In truth, Farloft talked and James listened, but James listened well and Farloft basked in the attention the boy gave his stories.
“Well, go ahead,” James prompted impatiently. He had been with the dragon only days, but they were the most wondrous days of his life. Farloft knew everyone and everything that ever happened in the kingdom since before man came here. The dragon really had known many men named James and all of them were the stuff of legend, tall, strong, trustworthy, and brave.
- THE TALE OF THE ZONGULDAK RUBY -
“Zonguldak is a land far to the East. It has a parched and arid landscape where the air itself almost burns the skin and there is no relief from the sun’s heat. It is as different from our cool climate here, as water is from sand.
“The people of Zonguldak are olive skinned. On a daily basis, they wear long robes with hoods, to keep off the sun, which are made of a light gauzy material. For special occasions, or if they are very wealthy, they wear a material called ‘silk’ woven from the threads made by tiny little worms.
“Is that where you got the ruby?” James interrupted.
“No,” Farloft replied. “Let us just say the ruby came to me.” Farloft cleared his throat.
“In Zonguldak there lived a young man named Turan. Turan lived with his father, mother, two sisters, and grandfather. Turan’s family was known as the finest makers of silk throughout Zonguldak. His grandfather was the head of the family and the business.
“One fine day, in the cool of early morning, Turan was out riding when he heard the most beautiful song. It was not that of a bird, nor quite human either. He followed the sound to the bank of the river Banzees. There on the sand he found the ruby, and to his surprise, realized that it was from the depths of the jewel the glorious song arose.
“The stone was not nearly as beautiful then as it is now. For it had been tumbled and tossed in the river, for no one knew how long, before it came to rest there on the shore.
“Turan, who was enthralled by the ruby’s song, picked it up and took it home. He did not tell anyone about the jewel and was surprised to find that no one else except him heard its lovely song. At night he would sit and polish it for hours as it sang endlessly to him. Over the weeks, and then months that followed, the ruby came to look as it does today from the hours of toil Turan put into polishing its surface.
“While Turan polished, and listened to the ruby’s song, he would daydream of things all young men think about. He was anxious for the time when he would run the family business and have all the money he
wanted instead of the moderate allowance his father gave him. He dreamed of the changes he would make and the silks he would produce. He had grand ideas for designs that were not the old traditional ones his grandfather and father produced.
“Unfortunately, Turan’s wishes and dreams came true all too soon. I say unfortunately because he came to be in charge of the family silk trade through misfortune of the worst kind. Turan’s grandfather unexpectedly fell ill and died. At the reading of his grandfather’s Will, Turan received the family business rather than his father. This so angered the old man he swore Turan cast a spell on his grandfather to obtain the family business and the fortune that went with it. Turan’s father disowned him. He took Turan’s mother, and two sisters, and left. Where they went, Turan never knew. The young man mourned not only for the loss of his grandfather, but also for the loss of all his family. He never saw them again.
“The next time he heard the ruby’s song, he wondered if he had inadvertently bewitched his grandfather. But, these thoughts were short lived.”
Farloft leaned down and scratched his cheek in thought with a large green paw.
“Turan now ran the business by himself. Also, with his inheritance he instantly became one of the richest men in the land of Zonguldak, and one of the most eligible bachelors. Fathers came from far and wide to tell him of their daughter’s beauty, of their fine cooking and cleaning