Thomas and the Dragon Queen

by Shutta Crum

  “Oh!” Thomas’s face paled for a moment. Then he added reassuringly, “You are very patient with the babies.”

  Eleanor laid a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “I have done some nursing before, in the stables, and, when I have been needed, on the battlefield. I am not overly worried about my place here. And you have been a great help today. I deeply appreciate it.”

  “I, too, have done a share of nursing,” Thomas replied. “I’m the eldest and now have nine brothers and sisters.”

  “Ten children in your family! Oh, my … often I have wished for just one other, a brother or a sister. It was not to be.”

  The princess fell quiet for a moment, and then shook her head as though clearing her mind of sad memories. “Forgive me,” she said. “I nursed my mother the queen, you see, until she died. And I was thinking about Father. I do hope he gets back safely to the castle. He is all the family I have … except for …” Her hand swept before her, indicating the sleeping young dragons.

  “I’m sure he will,” said Thomas. “Jon and Bartholomew will see to that.”

  Eleanor nodded. “When I was young, I got to raise a number of the pets around the castle. I loved feeding carrots to the donkeys.” She laughed a little. “I was forever getting caught with a kitten or a piglet up in my room. I think I frightened a number of tutors away until I was old enough to study on my own. Then I studied with a puppy or a chick on my lap! La! I missed all that once I had to start behaving like a royal lady. Still, my father taught me much. I know I will one day be grateful for his care about my education when I must rule in his stead. I hope that day is yet far away.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from yawning. “Excuse me! I’m afraid that taking care of so many young dragons can wear upon a person.” She chuckled. “I understand why there have been six nursemaids before me!”

  She hid another yawn with her hand and said, “Thomas, you once placed yourself at my service. If I may, I will put you to that task now. The babies will sleep for a good while. If you do not mind staying here with them, I thought I might go back to the ledge and rest in the sun. I rarely get to be by myself these days. You can hear that their mother is still sleeping, and I looked in at her as I came back with that shirt. I’m sure you’ll be quite safe. Feel free to take a nap with the little ones if you wish.”

  Thomas did not particularly like the idea of Princess Eleanor’s leaving him with Bridgoltha so close—even if he could hear the she-dragon sleeping. How would he explain himself without the princess’s help should the dragon queen awaken? However, it was obvious that Eleanor was exhausted being the nursemaid to so many, and he had learned that a knight is always gallant to a lady. “Please,” he told her, “you must rest. Go sit in the sun. I shall stay here and watch over them.”

  Thomas resisted the urge to peek at the dragon queen. He could hear her deep breathing, and he didn’t want to do anything that might suddenly waken her. He settled down upon the floor near the sleeping area, and leaned back against the rock wall. He stretched his legs out into the open cavern, crossed his ankles, put his hand in his pocket, and withdrew Isabel’s horse. He stared at it for a moment with tired eyes before he smiled and put it back in his pocket. His eyes shut—for just a moment, he thought. He was still so weary from wrestling the beast in the lake and freeing the young dolphin. He needed a nap, too.

  Sir Thomas slept so deeply that it was only with a sudden start that he awoke and realized something was wrong. A horrible wailing sounded nearby. He shook his head to clear it, and looked toward the babies. Bittany was out of the sleeping nest and sprawled upon the hard floor of the open nursery.

  She was panting, her topknot drooped, and her scales glistened with sweat. Every few moments she wobbled her head upright and wailed cries that were scratchy and so loud that Thomas feared his eardrums would burst. The pain she seemed to be in pierced Thomas all the way to his heart. It was kicking so hard in his chest, it hurt.

  It was important not to panic. For a moment Thomas wondered if he should fetch Princess Eleanor from the ledge. He wasn’t sure what to do, but his heart told him to stay and comfort the distressed baby as he would have Isabel, or any of his other siblings. He needed to find out what was happening. “Bittany,” he said, kneeling before her and touching her lightly, “what’s wrong? Where does it hurt, little one? Can you tell me?”

  Bittany lifted her head limply and stared at him with watery eyes. She wailed again and rolled awkwardly; her short legs jerked in the air. Thomas moved to her side and began to inspect her. Her tummy was bulging, and she felt feverish. There wasn’t the usual coolness of dragon scales Thomas had already grown used to.

  He knew about fevers. Everyone in his family had had them at one time or another. They were dangerous. The first thing to do was to cool the person as quickly as possible. Perhaps it was the same with dragons?

  He ran to the pool. Taking off the shirt he wore, he dipped it in the cold water. “Not little Bittany!” he muttered as he wrung out some of the water and ran back to her. He wiped her sides gently with the wet cloth. She wailed. He whispered to her all the while, “This will make you feel better. There … there …”

  Suddenly a thunderous voice boomed, “Stand back!”

  Thomas jerked, tumbling backward. He let go of Bittany—just as she burped a flame of red-hot fire. It shot straight upward. Thomas’s face would have been in that flame if he hadn’t been warned!

  He blinked. The flame had pierced the gloom of the nursery and blinded him for a moment with its brightness. He got to his knees and rubbed his eyes. When he could see again, he searched the floor for Bittany. She seemed to be better. She was on her feet and toddling quickly toward … toward … Thomas gulped. She was headed toward a set of immense talons. Each claw was as long as one of Thomas’s legs!

  His eyes climbed higher and higher—past the arched yellow claws, along the streaked and scarred scales covering a gigantic muscular body, up and up, until he was looking at the grimacing face of a huge dragon. Its head stretched up into the dark reaches of the high nursery cavern. Thomas sprawled backward.

  “Mama!” cried Bittany, climbing onto a huge foot. “Me burped.”

  “And a good one it was,” commented the dusky voice in a softer tone. Then the dragon’s head moved lower as though to get a better look at Thomas. Queen Bridgoltha moved her head slowly one way and then another, looking at him with each eye in turn. Finally, she leaned in and sniffed at him. Her tremendous topknot of brightly colored feathers swooshed past Thomas.

  It felt as if she were inhaling all the air from the cave. Thomas coughed and clung to the rocky floor.

  The dragon asked her daughter, “Who is your little friend?”

  “Sir Thomas,” said Bittany. “He’s Nursie’s friend. He has a sister called Isabel.”

  “Sir?” questioned Queen Bridgoltha, raising her voice again.

  Thomas covered his ears. Bittany jumped off her mother’s feet and scrambled toward her brothers and sisters, who were all awake and huddled wary-eyed.

  A huge cloud of smoke and snorting laughter filled the chamber. The queen slapped her tail on the floor. It seemed to shake the whole mountain. Then she lowered herself as though she were settling in for a friendly visit. Her head was closer to Thomas now. She asked him, in a slightly hissing manner, “Sssir? Surely you are not a knight. Thomas, was it?”

  Thomas nodded. He had not found his voice yet. But from behind him he heard a soft “Your Majesty!” He peeked over his shoulder quickly to see Princess Eleanor bowing at the entrance to the nursery.

  The dragon queen seemed satisfied that her nursemaid was here as well. “Enter!” she commanded. Then she refolded her front legs under her, and as she did so, her talons screeched across the floor, producing lines of flame. That seemed to please her—she flicked the tip of a gigantic tongue across her face.

  Eleanor helped Sir Thomas to his feet. She shot him a warning glance and whispered, “Do not try to trick her. Bridgoltha can s
mell trickery.” Thomas nodded slightly. The two of them stood before the dragon queen.

  Queen Bridgoltha studied Thomas without any hurry. Finally, she turned her attention to Eleanor. “Nursie, you left my children with this stranger?”

  “Your Majesty,” Eleanor replied, “Thomas is a noble Knight of the Realm. He would never harm your children. He has a good deal of experience with young ones, and is quite charmed by yours.”

  The dragon queen considered this a moment and said, “I saw that he has won the affection of Bittany. However, we both know that is not difficult to do. Even if this unkempt example of your kind is truly a Knight of the Realm, it makes no difference. It is I who make decisions about my children. Henceforth, please remember that! Now, Nursie, take your charges in hand. I’m afraid I was startled out of my sleep by my daughter’s cries, and”—the dragon paused to rest her head lightly upon an upraised knee, her great jaws moving closer to Thomas—“I am not in the best of moods at the moment.”

  Thomas finally managed to swallow, and Eleanor did as Bridgoltha had instructed. She moved to sit with the dragonlets crowded around her. They watched fearfully from the nursery’s nest while Thomas faced their mother alone.

  Sir Thomas stiffened his leg muscles and willed himself to stay upright. If it came to it, he would meet his doom, and the end of his quest, standing up like a knight. He owed that to his parents, to his king, and to Princess Eleanor for their faith in him.

  The very fact that he wasn’t eaten already served to give him some hope. Perhaps, as the princess had said, the dragon queen might determine that he could be of use to her. He prayed so. Then he could work out a way to rescue Princess Eleanor.

  Thomas sensed that Queen Bridgoltha’s temper was running high but she was controlling it. Her voice was softer now—this only made it sound deadlier.

  “Let’s get acquainted, Thomas, shall we? Would you like to sit?”

  Thomas found his voice at last. “Thank you, no. I … I prefer to stand, if you don’t mind, my …” He’d started to say my lady and realized that might not be correct; it might even be insulting. How did one address a queen dragon? He bowed and finished by calling her “Your Majesty,” as Princess Eleanor had done.

  Queen Bridgoltha nodded slightly, and Thomas felt her hot breath sweep across his bare chest. “As you wish,” she said, and added, “You have been raised with manners. I appreciate that. So often one simply hears screams and then must dodge the rudest of personal affronts as weapons of all sorts are sent hurtling onward. That sort of behavior is really not conducive to civilized conversation, is it?”

  Sir Thomas raised his head to address her. “I suppose not, Your Majesty.”

  The dragon queen was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Thomas, you are particularly small, I believe, even for a knight. You are young. Is that not so?”

  “You are correct.” Thomas looked down at himself. His footwear was scruffy, his breeches were ragged. He still bore many scabs, scratches, and purple bruises from his battle at the lake. He could see why she had referred to him as unkempt. He was sure he did not strike anyone who looked at him as a knight. But there was absolutely nothing he could do about his size. He added, “There are some things about oneself that must simply be accepted and worked around.”

  The queen’s huge eyes widened at that. “Well said, Sir Thomas.”

  Thomas swallowed again and felt his shakes start to subside. She had called him sir. It was a slight victory, but only momentarily felt—for the next thing she said frightened Thomas anew.

  “So we understand each other. After all, there are things about dragons that must simply be accepted. For example, we do eat meat, wandering loiterers, errant knights … that sort of thing.” She cooed the words, not taking her eyes off Thomas.

  Thomas blanched but held his ground. There was no use trying to run; she had turned her immense body to block both tunnels to the outside. In addition, he did not wish to do anything rash that would direct her wrath toward Princess Eleanor for allowing him into the nursery. He braced himself for the attack….

  It did not come. When he could breathe a little easier, he met Bridgoltha’s stare. Thomas saw puzzlement there in the sparking depths of her eyes, and something else … amusement? He wasn’t sure. Had she just been baiting him? If it was amusement—it prickled at the edge of his control. He did not mind being eaten in one gulp. However, he minded very much being toyed with in front of others he cared for, like Princess Eleanor and the babies. It wasn’t right to make fun of someone—especially if you meant to hurt them. It was like a cat playing with its food before killing and eating it. He wouldn’t have any of it!

  Abruptly, he knelt on one knee and bowed his head. With dignity, he said, “Please eat me now if you are going to, Your Majesty.”

  A puff of smoke filled the nursery and Thomas heard a loud snort. Queen Bridgoltha was laughing! Thomas clenched his fists, almost ready to demand that she eat him. How dare she? He shook—not with fear but with anger. He’d offered his life … and she had laughed at him!

  Thomas fumbled a bit at his side until he remembered that he no longer carried Starfast. To Queen Bridgoltha, he was something small and pathetic—something to be laughed at. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. How silly to demand to be eaten! That would certainly have ended the quest in a hurry. Had he learned nothing at all?

  With the realization of how foolish he was being, Sir Gerald’s words came back to him. He must not let his anger get in the way of what he needed to do. He suddenly pictured the brave squire he’d seen at his first battle. He had resolutely, and quietly, taken the place of his fallen knight. Thomas breathed deeply, rose to his feet, and squared his shoulders. He, too, would do his duty. The princess, and the kingdom, still needed him. He waited before the queen of the dragons.

  “Let’s not be so hasty, my brave young knight,” the queen said. “Yes. You amuse me, and I can see you are affronted at that. But do not take my amusement as belittling to you. You have roused my curiosity, so let’s have no more of this gobble-me-up foolishness. If anything, let’s say I was simply testing your resolve.”

  Thomas searched her eyes. Had he passed her test?

  Bridgoltha tilted her head toward him; her colorful topknot brushed the side of the cavern. “Now, Sir Thomas …” She nodded—slightly—as though honoring his knighthood, and continued, “A knight this far from home must be on a quest. Yours is?”

  “To rescue Princess Eleanor, your nursie.”

  “Ahh!” Thomas was almost knocked back by the force of her breath as she voiced that syllable. “I thought a champion might attempt the rescue of someone so highly born as our new nursemaid. However, it was a risk I took to secure a nursie who might instill some courtly manners in my unpolished brood. A mother wants only the best for her young. I’m sure you understand.”

  Thomas nodded.

  The queen continued, “Since there are so few dragons about these days due to … let us be frank, the interference of two-legged warriors, such as knights … I’ve been forced to turn to your kind for our nursies.”

  Now a bright glint flared in the dragon’s eyes. She paused for a moment before asking, “Was there more to your quest? What were you to do if you met with resistance, for example?”

  “I’m to rescue the princess, and … and …”

  “And? Out with it!” snapped Bridgoltha. “Were you to kill me?”

  From the sleeping nest, Thomas heard the sound of a dozen baby dragons gasping all at once. Quickly, he said, “Only if it was necessary, Your Majesty.”

  Queen Bridgoltha closed her eyes, raised her head, and breathed angry red flames up into the dark recesses of the cavern roof.

  For an instant, Thomas saw scorch marks on the smooth underside of the rock far above him. He knew she would eventually turn her baleful eyes upon him again.

  She did turn to eye him again, but it was not with the intention of frying him in flames—at least not yet. Instead, she seemed
to have gotten rid of some of her pent-up anger.

  She propped her chin upon one leathery foot and said quite calmly, “How unimaginative! Really, is your kind always so boring? Kill this, kill that, if it gets in your way…. How narrow-minded. At least you, Sir Thomas, are delightfully honest about it.” Then she raised her head again and looked around the nursery. “I suppose you have all your knightly equipment stowed hereabouts—your iron stinger-blade with a fancy name?”

  Thomas shook his head. “No. I had a sword named Starfast….” He paused. “But it was broken and lost in the lake across the bay.”

  “Hmm! Clumsy of you. However, I certainly sympathize. We dragons do not like the look and smell of that lake, either. Well then, where is your loyal mount? Your warhorse? Does it await you across the bay?”

  “No, Your Majesty.” Thomas shook his head again. “I had one, a donkey named Bartholomew. But I loaned him to another who needed assistance.”

  “A donkey! Hah!” She snorted and more smoke floated up to the ceiling. “A generous deed, but a foolish act on your part, I think. One never knows when a fast and fearless … well, a steady steed might come in handy, such as when running away from dragons. So-o-o …” She tapped her chin with a glass-hard claw. “I see you do not wear a silver shirt of metal, or a padded vest, to protect you from an easy roasting.”

  Thomas touched his bare skin. “No. I had a leather jerkin, but it was stolen from me by dolphins.”

  At this the queen chuckled, and a number of small misty clouds drifted upward. “My, my, Thomas, you let your guard down. How gullible of you! Everyone knows that the dolphins of this sea are playful little thieves. We’ll probably find your jerkin tossed out upon the beach one day. It’s their way of saying, ‘Your turn!’”