A Dragon in the Family

by Jackie French Koller

  SPLAT! SPLAT! A shower of rotten, rank-smelling zok eggs followed, pelting Darek, Clep, and Zantor.

  “Traitors!” they heard. “Dragon lovers!”

  Darek and Clep tried to protect themselves, but the eggs were coming too fast. The sticky yolks dripped in their eyes and blinded them. The smell made them gag. Then there was another sound, something between a rrronk and grrrawk followed by frightened yells and running footsteps, and the egg shower stopped.

  Darek wiped the egg from his eyes and stared. Zantor was perched atop the paddock wall, wings spread, claws unsheathed, flames shooting from his mouth in a full dragon battle stance.

  Darek and Clep raced to the wall in time to see a gang of young Zorian boys retreating over the nearest hill.

  “Wow,” said Clep, staring up at Zantor in awe. “I didn’t think he had it in him. Did you ever see him act like that?”

  Darek didn’t answer. He was still staring at the hill.

  “Darek,” said Clep, “what’s wrong?”

  “I saw one of them,” said Darek quietly. “It was Pola.”

  6

  “TRY TO UNDERSTAND,” SAID CLEP. “I probably would have done the same thing a week ago. The truth is, so would you.”

  Darek scrubbed the last of the rotten egg from his face, then bent down and ducked his head under the water again. Clep was right, he knew. Zorian boys spent years training for their dragonquests. If someone had tried to tell him just last week that everything had changed, that he would never get to go on his, he would have been furious. He waded in toward the riverbank, shaking the water from his hair. Clep tossed him a drying cloth.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Darek admitted, “but I never would have done anything like this to Pola. Never. He didn’t even let me explain.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t him,” said Clep. “Maybe it was just somebody who looks like him from the back.”

  “Yeah,” said Darek. “Maybe you’re right.” It made him feel better to believe that, even if it wasn’t the truth.

  Zantor still frolicked in the river, and the two brothers stood on the bank and watched him for a moment, deep in thought.

  “It’s all going wrong,” said Darek quietly. “I thought everyone would be happy. I thought it would be so easy.”

  “I knew it wouldn’t be easy,” said Clep, “but it’s the right thing to do.”

  Darek looked up at his big brother in surprise. “Do you really believe that?” he asked.

  Clep nodded and clapped Darek on the shoulder. “Yes, I do.” He smiled at his little brother’s astonishment. “I even heard Bodak tell Father that he thinks you have the makings of a great leader.”

  “Bodak said that?”

  Clep nodded, and Darek thought quietly for a moment. “What answer did Father make?” he asked.

  Clep avoided his eyes. “There’s the dinner bell!” he said quickly, seeming glad of a reason to change the subject. “Hurry and get dressed now.”

  Darek and Clep closed Zantor up in the barn with a pile of barliberries and a promise to return quickly, and to their surprise, he did not protest. He seemed to sense that this was home now. When they got to the kitchen, their father was already there. His face was grim and Darek’s heart squeezed with fear. He longed to ask what had happened at the Circle, but his voice would not come out.

  Clep started to ask, but a glance from their mother silenced him.

  “Let your father have dinner,” she said, “then we’ll talk.”

  They ate in silence, Darek and Clep stealing worried glances at each other and at their father’s somber face. At last Yanek pushed his plate away and lit his pipe. He sucked in deeply, then blew a long column of smoke from his lips.

  “Is the beast with Zilah?” he asked.

  Darek glanced nervously at Clep and their mother. “N-no,” he stammered. “He wouldn’t go with her. He’s in the barn.”

  Darek’s father nodded tiredly as if he’d expected as much, then went on smoking his pipe in silence. At last Darek couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.

  “What did the Circle decide?” he blurted out. “What was the vote?”

  Darek’s father took the pipe from his lips. “The Circle voted to put the beast to death,” he said.

  A cry of protest sprang instantly to Darek’s lips, but his father held up a finger for silence. “I’m not through,” he chided.

  Darek nodded obediently, and his father went on.

  “Bodak and I convinced the Circle that the beast deserves a trial,” he said.

  Darek’s eyes opened wide in wonder. “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  “But . . . why would you? I mean, I thought you didn’t . . .”

  Darek’s father took another long puff on his pipe. “I’m a fair man,” he said, then smiled at his wife and added, “if not always the most flexible one.”

  Darek’s mother reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand. “True on both counts,” she said with a wink at Darek.

  The great weight of the past few days began to lift from Darek’s heart, but Clep still looked worried.

  “What manner of trial do the elders have in mind?” he asked.

  “Simply this,” Yanek answered. “The beast can live among us until the first sign of trouble.”

  “And if there is trouble?” Clep inquired.

  Darek’s father glanced at the faces of his wife and sons, then lowered his eyes. “Then he will be put to death,” he said quietly, “and so will Bodak and I.”

  7

  DAREK SAT ON A BALE of zorgrass watching Zantor try to perch on a yuke stall like a zok. It was obvious that the dragonling was doing his best to make Darek laugh, but Darek’s heart was too heavy. How could this be happening? he wondered. How could an act of love and caring get twisted into such a nightmare?

  “It isn’t fair,” he cried out. “It just isn’t fair!”

  “What isn’t fair?”

  Darek turned and saw his father standing in the doorway. Darek turned away again, fighting with all his might to hold back the tears. “Nothing,” he said softly.

  There were footsteps, and then Darek felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Mind if I sit down?”

  Darek looked up, and then the tears stung his eyes and slid down his cheeks. “Oh, Father,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  Darek’s father sat down next to him, leaned his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together tightly.

  “No, son,” he said. “I am the one who is sorry.”

  “You?” Darek started to protest, but Yanek held up a finger to silence him.

  “Hear me,” he commanded.

  Darek wiped his eyes and nodded.

  “I have treated you badly,” Yanek went on. “In truth, the anger I have shown to you these past few days was really anger and contempt for myself.”

  Darek stared at his father in astonishment. “But why?” he asked.

  Yanek rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Because in my heart I have known for a long time the truth about the dragons, and I have denied it.”

  Darek’s mouth fell open in disbelief, and Yanek shook his head as if irritated with himself. “In the old days,” he went on, “when the Red Fanged and Purple Spiked dragons roamed the valley, our fathers were great warriors. Their skills protected their families. Their deeds of valor gave them places of honor in our society. They fought until the Reds and Purples were gone.”

  Yanek fell silent, and Darek stared at him in confusion. “Then what happened?” he asked.

  Darek’s father sighed. “What is a warrior without a war?” he asked. “Somehow all dragons became the enemy. Green Horned, Yellow Crested, Great Blue . . . What matter that their kind never bothered our villages? What matter that they had not even a taste for flesh? When a man wants to be a hero, he needs a foe to vanquish.”

  Darek looked over at Zantor, who had finally accomplished the task he had set for himself and sat staring at them proudly like an oversize blue
zok. The sight was so comical that Darek might have laughed if he hadn’t felt so heartsick.

  “Then it’s all been a lie,” he said. “All the training, all the battles, all the deaths . . .”

  Yanek nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said, “and that’s why what you have done is so dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Darek repeated.

  “Yes,” said his father. “I’m afraid our whole society is built around this lie, and those who have gained the most from it will fight hardest to keep the truth a secret.”

  “You mean . . . the Circle of Elders,” said Darek.

  “Yes,” said Yanek.

  “But how?” asked Darek. “How can they fight this?”

  “The same way they always have, my son. By making the lie appear to be true, so true that they can believe it themselves.”

  “How can they do that?”

  There was a sudden commotion out in the yard, followed by the sound of many voices raised in anger.

  Darek’s father stiffened. “I fear we are about to see how,” he whispered.

  “Yanek!” a voice boomed. “Yanek of Zoriak, come forth!”

  8

  DAREK’S FATHER WAS GRABBED BY a guard as soon as he and Darek emerged from the barn. His arms were shackled behind his back, and he was pushed over to where Bodak stood, shackled as well. A great crowd of villagers had assembled in the paddock, and the Circle of Elders stood at its center.

  “What’s wrong?” Darek cried. “What are you going to do with my father?”

  “Silence!” the Chief Elder boomed. “Where are you hiding the beast?”

  “The beast?” said Darek, so frightened that for a moment he couldn’t think what the Chief Elder meant.

  “Don’t play the fool!” the Chief bellowed. “We know . . .”

  He never had to finish his sentence, for at that moment a zok strutted out of the barn, and right behind it strutted Zantor, doing the silliest zok imitation Darek had ever seen.

  No one was amused.

  “He’s there!” came a panicky cry. “Watch out! Seize him!”

  Shrieks of fear rang out on all sides, and before Darek knew what was happening, Zantor was snagged in a chain-mail net. A zitanium cage was rolled up, and the little creature was tossed inside.

  “Rrronk! Rrronk!” he cried out.

  Now that the dragonling was safely locked up, a group of children began to tease and taunt him, poking him with sticks and tossing stones into the cage. Zantor’s rrronks! became shrill grrrawks! He unsheathed his claws and began charging at the bars, arrows of flame shooting from his mouth.

  “Do you see?” screamed a hysterical mother to the elders. “Is it not as I said?”

  The Chief Elder nodded slowly. His face was stern, but it was obvious that he was well pleased with the events that were taking place before him.

  At that moment Darek’s mother burst out of the house, followed by Clep.

  “What’s going on?” she cried, staring wildly at the scene before her. “What’s happened?”

  “I fear, Madam,” said the Chief Elder, “that the beast has attacked a group of boys unprovoked. Friends of your son, I believe.”

  Darek’s eyes widened. “That’s a lie!” he shouted.

  “A lie?” The Chief Elder turned toward Darek. He smiled slowly and snapped his fingers. “Bring the boys here,” he called over his shoulder. Two mothers came forward with two boys Darek knew, but not well.

  “See for yourself,” said the Chief.

  The boys turned, and Darek saw that their clothes were scorched and their hair singed. The chief gave Darek a smug look.

  “They’re not friends!” Darek cried. “They tried to hurt me and Clep. Zantor was just defending us.”

  The Chief turned a deaf ear to Darek’s pleas. “Take the prisoners to the council house!” he shouted. “Let the trials begin!”

  9

  DAREK STARED HELPLESSLY AS Zantor continued to thrash and roar in his cage outside the council house. Now and then the dragonling made a new sound, an earsplitting eeeiiieee! If found guilty, Zantor would be the lucky one, though. He would simply be target practice for the archers. Darek’s father and Bodak would be burned at the stake.

  Darek’s mother and Zilah tried desperately to convince the waiting villagers that Zantor, Yanek, and Bodak were innocent, but the group of boys continued to hold to their story of terror, and sympathy was on their side.

  Darek and Clep paced nervously.

  “I’ve got to do something,” said Darek. “I can’t just wait here like this.”

  “Haven’t you done enough already?” Clep snapped.

  Darek stopped pacing and stared at his brother. “Are you blaming me, Clep?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes . . . No.” Clep put his hands over his face. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I just want it to be a bad dream. I want to wake up and find out that it’s just an ordinary day and we’re all going fishing like we used to, me and Yoran, and you and Pola—”

  “Pola!” Darek grabbed Clep by the shoulders and stared into his eyes. “Pola was with them, remember? Pola knows the truth!”

  Clep stared back for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re not sure of that,” he said, “and even if he was with them, what makes you think he’ll tell the truth?”

  Darek stared over Clep’s shoulder at Zantor. “He’ll tell,” he whispered. “I’ll make him tell.”

  • • •

  Darek found Pola out behind his house, shooting arrows aimlessly into the air.

  “Pola!” he shouted. “Pola, we’ve got to talk!”

  Pola glanced over his shoulder at Darek, frowned, and looked away again. He loosed another arrow, watching its lazy flight.

  “Pola, listen to me!” Darek ran up behind his friend, grabbed his arm, and whirled him around.

  “Hey,” Pola growled, pulling his arm free. “Leave me alone.”

  “No!” Darek shouted. “You’ve got to help me.”

  “Help you do what?” asked Pola sullenly.

  Darek stared at him. “Haven’t you heard?” he asked. “Don’t you know?”

  “Know what?” asked Pola.

  “They’re trying my father,” shouted Darek, “and my friend Zantor.” Darek narrowed his eyes. “You know,” he added dryly, “the fierce dragon who attacks young boys unprovoked.”

  Pola’s eyes widened, then he looked away.

  “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

  “No?” Darek grabbed the hat from Pola’s head and clutched a handful of singed hair. “Then how did you get this?”

  Pola said nothing.

  “Answer me, Pola!”

  “I—I never meant to hurt your father,” mumbled Pola. “I just wanted to get the dragon.”

  Darek let go of Pola’s hair and handed him his hat. “Why?” he asked angrily. “What did the dragon do to you?”

  Pola whirled away and slammed his bow to the ground. “It doesn’t belong here!” he shouted. “It changes everything, don’t you see? All the training, the matches, the tournaments, all the games of skill we’ve played all our lives! None of them matter anymore.”

  Darek stared at the bow lying between them on the ground. He wanted to hate Pola, but he couldn’t. He understood Pola’s feelings too well. In his heart he knew he would have felt the same way once.

  A great clamor of voices rose up, carried on the wind from the village square. Time was running out. Darek had to win Pola to his side now. He grabbed up the bow and found an arrow that lay nearby. He fitted the arrow to the string and surveyed the meadow. Far away on the opposite side stood a young purple sapling. Reaching it would be quite a stretch, but Darek had to try. He tilted the bow up and let fly. He watched, holding his breath as the arrow arched out high over the meadow, then dropped slowly and . . . struck! Praise Lord Eternal. His aim was true.

  Darek lowered the bow and looked at Pola. His friend was envious of the shot, he could tell. “Here,” he
said, holding out the bow. “Match that.”

  “What?”

  “Match it,” Darek repeated.

  “Why?” asked Pola, narrowing his eyes.

  “Because you want to,” said Darek. “Admit it. Whether you ever fight a dragon or not, you want to shoot, because you want to prove you’re as good as me. That’s where the fun lies, Pola. In the competition, not the killing. Match it. I dare you.”

  Pola stared at Darek a long time, then silently took the bow and pulled an arrow from his quiver. Slowly he turned, fitted the arrow to the string, and took aim. Darek held his breath again as the arrow arched out over the meadow, going higher, higher, then lower, lower, and . . .

  “Yah!” shrieked Pola, tossing his hat into the air.

  The boys clutched each other in a brotherly hug as their arrows quivered side by side far across the meadow.

  10

  DAREK WAS PREPARED FOR A guilty verdict, but he was not prepared for the sight that greeted him when he and Pola reached the square. The executions had begun! Yanek and Bodak were lashed to their stakes, and archers were lining up in front of Zantor’s cage.

  “Stop!” Darek shrieked as he and Pola tried to push their way through the crowd. “Stop! It’s all a mistake!”

  No one listened. No one cared. Everyone was too busy watching the show, shouting and jeering.

  “Stop!” the two boys cried together. “Somebody listen, please!” Darek pushed and shoved at the crowd, but he was making no headway. He pushed at a big man who pushed him back and sent him sprawling in the dust. Darek scrambled to his feet again, grabbed a rock, and motioned for Pola to follow. He got as close as he could to the platform where the village bell sat, then let the rock fly.

  CLANG . . . ANG . . . ANG!

  All heads turned as Darek hoisted himself up onto the platform and pulled Pola up too.

  “Stop!” Darek yelled. “This is all a mistake! We’ve got to stop the executions now!”