James & the Dragon

by Theresa Snyder

the dagger from his belt and offered it to Farloft. “Here.”

  Farloft shook his head. “You have more use for it then I ever would. It will keep you safe. Keep it hidden and never use it in anger.”

  James, knowing he could never win this battle to stay, tucked the knife back in his belt and threw his arms around Farloft’s leg again. “I love you, Farloft,” he mumbled into his leg. Then he abruptly let go and ran from Farloft down the steep slope in the direction the dragon indicated the village was when James asked earlier.

  Farloft watched reluctantly as James half ran, half tumbled to the foot of the mountain. The boy never once looked back. When he reached the level below, he headed straight for the trees and the village far beyond. It took all of Farloft’s great dragon strength to keep from calling him back.

  - FARLOFT WORRIES -

  Not long after James left, Farloft began to worry if he sufficiently warned James against the dangers of telling anyone he stayed with a dragon? Had he impressed upon the boy enough that he should keep his dagger hidden under his tunic? Should he have even given the boy the weapon? It would be a great temptation for thieves and cutthroats. It might put the boy in more danger than it did him good. Maybe he should not have let James go alone. It was a long way to the village.

  Farloft sniffed the air. No more snow for a time. No rain. He lay his head down on his front feet again. It was warm in the sun on the rock ledge above the entrance to the cave.

  He told himself he was worrying for nothing. James was a smart lad. He would be all right. Farloft sighed deeply. He just could not help worrying about his new young friend.

  - JAMES ARRIVES HOME -

  James felt very hot and tired when he walked into the village late in the day, just as the sun was starting to set. He ran most of the way in a kind of blind hopelessness. He looked a mess; his face streaked and stained from his tears and his clothes muddy from numerous stumbles and falls on the slippery, sodden terrain.

  A group of half starved children, outside one of the huts on the edge of the village, sounded the alarm. The villagers poured from their homes to see the return of one they thought lost to the freezing weather of the past two weeks.

  James felt somewhat guilty when he saw the gaunt faces of the people. Where he had been warm and well fed by Farloft, the storm of the last few weeks had taken its toll on the villagers. They all looked hungry and some had deep mucous filled coughs.

  A woman who used to be one of his sister’s friends touched his arm. “We thought you were lost. It was the second day of the storm ‘fore anyone even seen there was no fire at your hearth. By then it was too late to search for ya.”

  “Where ya been?” a voice in the crowd called.

  “How’d ya survive the storm?” another asked closer at hand.

  “I found a cave and sheltered there,” James replied.

  “There are no caves close by,” the blacksmith challenged, his face so close James could smell his stale breath through his rotten teeth.

  “I got lost in the snow,” James explained. “I wandered far away.”

  The woman who spoke earlier touched his face gently, its fullness well illuminated by the setting sun. “Whatcha been eatin’, James? You’re as round as a tree squirrel.”

  “Nuts and berries,” James replied and knew immediately his lie would be caught.

  “No berries this time of year,” the smithy said in an accusing voice. “Where ya really been?” He asked and at the same time jerked James around to face him.

  “In a cave, I swear,” James repeated.

  “Hey, what’s that?” the smithy asked, as the last rays of sunlight glinted off the hilt of James’ knife.

  James covered the dagger with his hand. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” the smithy asked indignantly. “Give it here. Let us have a look.”

  James reluctantly removed the dagger from his belt.

  “Lordy, look at that.” The smithy exclaimed on seeing the brilliant dagger. “We got us a thief.”

  “I am not a thief,” James protested. “Farloft gave it to me.” The dragon’s name just slipped out. James was sorry the moment he said it.

  “Who’s this Farloft?” someone demanded. “I never heared of such.”

  Murmurs of assertion rumbled through in the crowd now huddled in a half circle before James.

  James reflected for a moment on Farloft’s warnings earlier in the day, but could not come up with a plausible story now that he had slipped up. He decided telling the villagers the truth was the best course of action.

  “Farloft is the dragon we sometimes see shadow of on a clear day.”

  The woman next to him stepped back in fright. “You been with a dragon?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Well, yes.” James instantly realized the mistake he made in telling them about the dragon. Farloft warned him. Why hadn’t he listened?

  “Why didn’t he eat ya?” someone demanded, their tone gruff and accusatory.

  “Dragons don’t eat people,” James replied. He noticed everyone had stepped back away from him, not just the woman.

  “Everyone knows dragons eat people,” Tithe said, at the front of the crowd.

  “No, Farloft says....” James did not get the opportunity to finish his sentence.

  “He talked to ya?” a voice exclaimed in disbelief.

  “He’s bewitched,” someone else shrieked.

  “Kill him ‘fore he turns into a dragon and eats us all!”

  “No,” James cried.

  The smithy stuck his meaty fist at James’ face. The magical dagger jumped into his hand and immediately came up of its own accord and sliced the smithy’s arm to the bone. The smithy cried out in pain and surprise.

  The crowd rushed forward in one huge mass. James stumbled backward in an attempt to escape them the dagger falling accidentally from his hand. The smithy’s son took up the dagger and his strong unrelenting hand caught James’ arm. James felt the pain of his own dagger’s steel as Tithe plunged it home into his chest. James fell back in a scream of agony as the rest of the crowd over took him.

  One instant the setting sun was lighting the crowd descending on James, the next, something huge was silhouetted against the sky casting a shadow over them all.

  It was Farloft diving from his place on an air current high above.

  His worries about James had taken him aloft, but he could see when the crowd scattered for the shelter and safety of their homes, that he was too late. James lay prone on the ground, the dagger of King Ludlow protruding from his chest.

  Farloft landed at his side. “James?”

  James’ eyes flickered. The dragon saw recognition and relief in them.

  “I am going to take you home,” Farloft announced. Without further word, he picked James up and with one mighty thrust of his giant wings rose instantly aloft.

  - FARLOFT FLIES FOR HELP -

  Farloft eased James down on the rock slab in the cave with the crystal ceiling. The boy moaned in pain.

  “I never should have made you go,” Farloft muttered under his breath. “Never.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” James assured him. “You told me not to tell about you. It just slipped out.” James coughed and writhed in pain. “Cold,” he whispered through teeth that had begun to chatter.

  Farloft spat a burst of dragon fire at a boulder nearby. The rock took on a red hot glow. He studied James with deep concern. The dagger still protruded from the boy’s chest. Farloft did not possess the dexterity to remove it. His paws were far to large. The boy was going to die if he did not do something soon. Unfortunately, there was only one thing he could think to do.

  “I am going for help, James.” he said. Farloft was not sure James heard him. The boy was lying with his eyes closed now, breathing laboriously. “I will not be gone long,” Farloft promised.

  He gave the boulder one final blast to make sure the room would stay warm in his absence, then he was gone.

  - THE WIZARD AND THE DRAG
ON MEET AGAIN -

  “I have come to ask a favor,” Farloft said to the wizard standing on the wall of the castle.

  When summoned by the guard upon Farloft’s unexpected arrival, the wizard came straight here from his bed, still in his dressing gown.

  “Yes?” Laval coaxed. A favor granted, would be a favor which needed to be repaid. Perhaps this was his chance to obtain the piece of Farloft’s wing he needed for his potion.

  “I need your help, Laval. Your healer’s knowledge. A friend of mine is injured.”

  “I don’t know much about dragon healing,” Laval said with a note of disdain in his voice, as if a dragon were not worth healing.

  “He is not a dragon. He is a boy of perhaps ten years of age.” Farloft shifted impatiently, his tail switching in agitation. “Will you come?” he asked in a voice slightly more fierce then he had intended.

  “Of course,” Laval answered with a nod of his head. This might just be the chance he needed to avenge his beloved daughter’s death. “I will dress and meet you at the gate.” He hastily disappeared from the wall.

  Before long he reappeared dressed and mounted on his sorrel steed, his healer’s bag hanging from the pommel of his saddle.

  Farloft crouched down low before the wizard on his horse. “Come,” he ordered. “Horses are too slow. We will fly.” Farloft extended his neck for the wizard and placed a large front paw out to assist Laval aboard.

  “Very well,” Laval said in surprise and dismounted his horse to remount Farloft.

  The dragon must be very fond of this boy to allow him such a liberty as riding him, Laval thought. To the wizard’s knowledge, no