by K. Dzr
* * * * *
Hours before the curse fell upon the village; Demetrius lay awake in his bed. He didn’t know what kept him awake. He didn’t know what he should be ready for, or even how to prepare for it. All he knew was that he should be ready. He rubbed his eyes; the headache was coming back. He rolled over and fingered the stitching of his blanket. His mother made it years ago. He used to be able to count each thread; trace each loving stitch. Now the blanket was a blur of muted color. He’d never told his parents about the headaches or his eyes; he didn’t want them to worry. But it worried him. This night however, he was unable to think about anything except his need to be ready.
As his parents slept, he dressed and sat alert in the dark. He heard nothing but his father’s snores and the sounds of livestock moving about in the grass. After hours of waiting he started to feel a little silly. He lay down and closed his eyes, trying to relax his mind. Suddenly he smelled smoke. He heard the crackle of fire and the animals stampeding. He sprinted outside and was the first to witness the dragon’s fury.
Within moments the village was screaming. Men ran to fill buckets of water. The trees lining the path to the stream were ablaze, making it nearly impossible to safely traverse. Many fled into the woods to keep out of sight. Some stayed in their homes, praying that their hut would be spared. Still others ran around in a panic.
Demetrius felt his fingers tingling and knew he could easily put out the fires. He weighed the consequences of revealing his secret. If Netiro already knew and was after him, why should everyone else suffer? The magic coursed through his body. The wind shifted and the sky darkened. His father’s strong hand jerked him from his spell and pulled him and his mother away. The forming rain cloud quickly dissipated, undetected.
“Hurry! Stay down low.” Nehemiah ushered them into the thick shrubbery nearby. “Keep quiet and watch for him. He seems to be targeting fields and structures. You should be safe here, but if he comes this way, run into the woods as fast as you can and stay low!”
Ezria grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?” she shouted in a panicked whisper. “I can’t see him in this darkness.”
“I have to see to Mettal’s family. Their home is on fire. I have to help them!”
“What about your family?” she cried.
“You’ll be fine if you do as I say. Now let me go, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Nehemiah pulled away from his wife. As he turned to leave, he met Demetrius’s eyes. “Keep the secret boy.” Then he disappeared into the chaos.
Ezria held onto her son and rocked him. Screams of pain, panic and terror bit into her heart and tears drenched her face. She cried for her husband. She cried for her friends out there suffering. She cried because her whole village was being destroyed and there was no way to stop it. She cried for her life’s work all gone in a matter of moments. Most of all, she cried because she felt responsible for the night’s tragedy.
Ezria was convinced that Netiro knew of Demetrius’ magic. He was going to hunt Demetrius down and kill him, and neither she nor Nehemiah would be able to save him. Never had anyone been able to protect themselves from the sporadic rages of the lazy dragon.
Demetrius allowed himself to be held and rocked. He allowed the fires to burn. He watched the powerful dragon spew destruction and he somehow knew that now was not his time. The same feeling that told him to be ready tonight, now told him to wait. He learned, this night, to listen to this feeling and understand the message the magic was trying to reveal. If he had trusted it earlier, how many might he have saved? He was furious with himself, but all the more determined. He was going to learn his magic and lift this curse.
Netiro made a few more low passes over the victims. He enjoyed watching them scatter like vermin. He relished their wretched cries. He had no intention of killing them, just shaking them from their complacency. They did not fear him as they once had. He had become too tolerant of their insufficient efforts. They were getting confident. That meant they might try to challenge his power. Which was something he could not allow. This attack would surely rekindle their respect and reignite their fears.
Nehemiah was careful to keep hidden. He half jogged, half crawled behind the charred huts. As he neared his friend’s home, he stopped and crouched under a tree. His stomach tightened as he watched flames consume the structure. He could only pray that the family escaped before the fire became too intense.
Overhead, Netiro glided through pillars of smoke. Nehemiah thought he saw a grin on the dragon’s face as it swooped toward the center of the village. He jumped up and ran after the dragon. Before Nehemiah could reach the village square, Netiro once again disappeared in the darkness and smoke. With an ear-piercing roar, Netiro destroyed one of the pig pens. Nehemiah watched as the pigs exploded from their confines and scattered in every direction. People scrambled to avoid being trampled by the stampede. Netiro took flight again, but not before snatching up one of the squealing beasts and making a quick meal of it.
“Did the family get out?” Nehemiah shouted over the chaos.
“Nehemiah! Over here!” came a voice from behind a nearby brush. “They all made it out. I helped them to safety. They had to jump from the upper window and the youngest boy injured his leg in the fall, but otherwise they are fine. Mettal took Mary and their children to Bakuk’s family.”
“And you?” Nehemiah asked in a hushed voice.
“I will live another day to await my revenge on this cursed dragon. Your family?”
“They are safe for now. Thank you, my brother.”
Nehemiah turned to leave but was called back.
“Nehemiah, find Elijah. He’s been running around screaming that this is entirely his fault.”
“How?…”
“Look out! Here he comes again!” The man pointed a shaky finger to the sky.
Smoke swirled in the center of the village as Netiro landed. He snorted a few times and arched his massive wings as he strutted slowly and deliberately. He turned his head, first one way then the other, examining the destruction he created. He took notice of the small fires and the empty pen that once contained a flock of sheep. He could hear faint cries and whimpers. He could hear mothers trying to silence their frightened children. And he reveled in it all. With a grandiose flap of his wings he produced a whirlwind of smoke, dirt, and debris. He lifted into the air; thus, creating the illusion of vanishing into the night.
The village held its breath. Frightened eyes darted across the night sky. Hearts pounded loudly in ears, drowning out the crackling fires. Trembling hands held loved ones close. In the dark, they waited for the smoke to open up and the dragon to emerge with another barrage of attacks; but he did not come.
Those frightening moments before Nehemiah crept from his hiding place seemed like an eternity. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his muscles tensed, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. He staggered in and out of the haze. He scouted for any indication that the dragon would return: a shadow, a swirl of smoke or a growl, but there was none. Aside from the damage he caused, there was no sign of the dragon. When Nehemiah signaled it was safe, the village finally exhaled.
One by one, they came out of hiding. As their confidence grew, they went to work rectifying the damage. Under the direction of the elders, men and women lined up with buckets of water to extinguish the flames. Livestock were rounded up, the wounded taken care of, and structures inspected for repairs. The work would continue long after the smoke cleared.
Nehemiah was returning to his family when he noticed Elijah and his wife Helen, crossing the fields behind their home. Helen consoled her husband and supported him as they staggered home.
“Elijah, are you all right? Are you hurt?” He took Elijah’s arm to help support him. Elijah quickly straightened himself to demonstrate he was not injured.
“I’m sorry, Nehemiah. Is your family safe? Please tell me they are safe.”
Suddenly, Nehemiah realized that he didn’t know if his fam
ily was safe or not. He never saw Netiro in that area of the village, but there were many times when the dragon was out of sight. Ezria and Demetrius were both smart and resourceful; they should be fine.
“It’s my fault you know. I brought this on our village. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Why didn’t he just kill me instead of making the whole village suffer?”
Nehemiah squinted through the darkness, smoke and chaos for his family. His patience was wearing thin as he half-listened to Elijah’s rambling. Nehemiah looked beyond Elijah to Helen. His eyes asked the question.
“It’s true, we are to blame. Netiro was angry when we took his meal yesterday. He promised that we would all pay for not bringing enough food. But honestly Nehemiah, we gave him all we could spare. It just wasn’t enough. Had we brought maybe just one more…”
“No.” Nehemiah put his hand up to silence them both. He didn’t have time for this. He wanted to check on his own family. He grabbed Elijah—who was still whimpering and rambling—and gave him a good shake.
“Elijah, listen to me. Pull yourself together. This is not your fault. None of us have enough food to satisfy him. He was violent when I last took his meal. We have all allowed this to go on. Think about it. Netiro can find plenty of food outside of this village. We don’t have the means to scour the countryside and haul food back to the dragon. Why doesn’t Netiro hunt for himself? I’ll tell you why. Because we have allowed ourselves to become his slaves. If anyone is to blame it is all of us. Why didn’t he kill you? Because if he killed everyone who displeased him, there would be no one left to cater to him. He’d have to abandon his home and find a new village of people to frighten and control. Don’t you see? He needs us.”
There was a gleam of understanding in Elijah’s eyes.
“Yes, yes, I see what you are saying, but…”
“Elijah,” Nehemiah interrupted. “I think it’s time we put a stop to this nightmare. What kind of people are we to allow ourselves to become enslaved without even a fight? Is this what we want for our children, and their children? We must all stand up to him and take back our freedom. If we don’t, it will only get worse. We will either die of famine, or he’ll start killing us off. But I doubt he’ll just go away.”
“You are right Nehemiah! Why didn’t I see it? He could easily massacre us. He threatens, frightens and terrorizes, but he doesn’t kill us. Yes, that’s it; he needs us. Yes, we need to put a stop to this right now. The first thing we should do is…”
“Elijah, hold your thoughts. Now is not the time. Look around you. There is much to do before we can make plans. We need to attend to the injured, put out fires, salvage what crops we can. As soon as we get the village back in order, we’ll call a meeting and discuss our plans with the others.”
Elijah looked around at the devastation. Nehemiah was right. There was urgent work to be done before any planning could take place. Elijah put his arm on Nehemiah’s shoulder.
“You are right, my friend. We,” he said, nodding to his wife, “will do all we can to restore the village, to help those who are injured or who have suffered the most.”
“I know you will. If everyone pulls together, as I know they will, by this time tomorrow we will be sitting down making our plans. Oh, and Elijah, keep this between ourselves for the time being. We all have enough on our minds already. We need people to work now and think later. Understood?”
“You are a smart man, Nehemiah. If anyone can pull this off, you can.”
Nehemiah patted Elijah’s shoulder and nodded. As he made his way back to his family, he replayed the conversation with Elijah in his mind. The words just seemed to flow from his mouth. He believed the words he spoke, but had no idea how to stand up to Netiro.
All around him people ran about yelling orders, while others huddled in small groups, consoling their loved ones. Others still, wept uncontrollably. Yamin sat alone on the ground, looking defeated. Nehemiah paused, thinking to go to him, but decided his family had been left alone too long. Just as he had tolerated this curse for too long.
Yes, something had to be done. They certainly couldn’t live like this forever. They would have but one opportunity. Fail, and Netiro would destroy them all.
He made a mental note to check on Yamin later, and pushed his way through the congestion to where Ezria and Demetrius were supposed to be waiting for him. He reviewed the night’s events; there were many times the dragon was out of sight. What if…No, he would not allow such thoughts. He pushed the growing dread from his mind, but quickened his pace nonetheless.
“Demetrius!” Nehemiah found himself running as he neared his home. “Ezria!”
His home was intact; he tore through the foliage where he instructed them to hide.
“Father!”
Nehemiah turned to see his son and wife safe with some other children in the field behind their home. He ran to his family, kissing and hugging them both.
“It’s over. He’s gone.”
“Are you sure?” Ezria asked, unwilling to loosen her embrace.
“Well, he’s gone for now anyway. I don’t think he’ll be back tonight.” Nehemiah gently pulled his wife’s arms from around his neck and took a look at the other two children. The older seemed to be half Demetrius’ age; the other couldn’t have learned to walk more than a summer ago. They didn’t appear to be injured.
“They were terrified, separated from their family,” Ezria explained, hugging the frightened children. “I told Demetrius to stay put, but he ran off, gathered them up and got them to safety with us. He’s just like his father, I suppose. Never listening to me.”
Demetrius beamed with pride.
“You better listen to your mother, boy.” Nehemiah laughed. “Unless she’s telling you not to do something that you know I would do.”
Ezria shook her head.
“We need to get these children back to their parents,” she said, changing the subject. “They’re probably sick with worry.”
“I agree. It’s safe now. The dragon is gone, little ones.” Nehemiah hunched down to address the children in a soft voice. “We’ll go together to find your families. Come.” He took the girl by the hand, leaving Ezria with the little boy, and led them across the field.
“Father, why was Netiro so angry?”
“I’m not sure. Elijah thinks he’s to blame for not taking enough food yesterday. Don’t worry, son. I don’t think it had anything to do with you.”
“How can you be so sure? I told you it was too dangerous for the boy to be playing around with…”
“Hush, Woman!” Nehemiah scolded. He let go of the child’s hand and pulled Ezria away from curious little ears.
“Do not talk about that, Ezria. We don’t need everyone blaming us for the attack. Be assured: if Netiro knew about that, he would have been looking for the boy and would not have stopped until he found him.”
Ezria found some small relief and attempted a smile.
“Let’s get these babies home,” she said.
Nehemiah lifted the small boy up onto his shoulders and they continued on toward the commotion of the village. Finding their parents turned out to be an easy and gratifying task. Watching the joy and relief as the family reunited was the only thing that made the night bearable.
“Mettal’s home is completely destroyed, but everyone made it out,” Nehemiah explained. “He took Mary and the children to Bakuk’s house. Mary is most distraught, and one of their boys injured his leg during their escape. Perhaps you should go help Sara care for them,” he instructed his wife. “Demetrius, you come with me. We need to round up some lost sheep before they get too far away. And remember, do not speak about your…you know, to anyone.”
