A Boy and His Dragon

by Michael J. Bowler

Bradley Wallace, there’s something about our relationship which I haven’t told you, the dragon finally spoke, still a bit hesitantly.

  “What?” Bradley Wallace shouted, thinking with annoyance that this was hardly the time to get mushy or something.

  I don’t know exactly how, the dragon went on, and Bradley Wallace could feel Whilly’s palpable confusion, or why, but I know that this is true.

  “What’s true?” Bradley Wallace shouted back, unable to conceal his irritation. Whatever was troubling the dragon must be heavy stuff, the boy realized anxiously.

  Whilly wasn’t known for hemming and hawing. But he still felt they had more important things to worry about, like an erupting volcano

  directly below. “Whilly, we haven’t got all day!”

  The dragon continued to hesitate, and Bradley Wallace nearly burst at the seams with pent up frustration. If I die, so will you, Whilly blurted out suddenly, as though to prevent any further protests from the boy. And it worked.

  “What are you talking about?” Bradley Wallace asked after a moment, a heretofore-unknown fear creeping slowly around his heart like a gradually tightening vise.

  We are as one, Bradley Wallace, joined in body, mind and spirit, the dragon continued, carefully, uncertain what human response to expect from his friend. If I die, so will you. And if you die, so will I. Whilly knew by the boy’s shocked silence that Bradley Wallace was finally realizing the true extent of their symbiosis.

  Now you understand why I’m reluctant to endanger my life fighting this volcano.

  Bradley Wallace sat atop the circling dragon’s back, rain streaming off his face in tiny rivulets, shocked into dumbfounded silence. Death? He supposed he’d known that kids could die, just like old people, but he never really thought about it much, and certainly not in regards to himself.

  What would death be like, he wondered, suddenly feeling chilled to the deepest part of his being, a chill that seemed to emanate from the grave itself. What was happening to him? When he first found and befriended Whilly, it seemed like such fun, an adventure that would be exciting and new and extraordinary. Now it seemed the more he learned about what he’d gotten himself into, the more sour the entire relationship became, and he realized that this friendship entailed much more than he’d bargained for, much more than simple fun and games. He might die because of this dragon, he repeated over and over in his mind. Die!

  And I might die because of you, Whilly interrupted his deliberations. Being what you humans call “a friend” isn’t simple for me, either, Bradley Wallace Murphy.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?” the boy demanded angrily, swiping the wet hair away from his squinting eyes.

  I didn’t know, myself, at first, the dragon explained, while the volcano bubbled and frothed impendingly beneath them. And when I did realize how closely we were linked, I was afraid you wouldn’t understand.

  “I don’t understand!” came the strident retort, lost immediately to the howling wind.

  I also feared you would become angry, as you now are, Whilly added, glancing quickly back at the rain-drenched child astride his back.

  “Well, how do you expect me to react?” Bradley Wallace flung back furiously.

  Whilly glanced nervously down at the rising dome of molten rock, and circled away from the main crater and its blast furnace of heat. Bradley Wallace, we don’t have time to discuss this. That volcano will erupt momentarily. If you wish me to try and help the people below, I will. But if I should die . . . Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for them?

  Bradley Wallace’s anger faded into acute fear, coupled with confusion.

  “I don’t know, I . . . I’m just not sure what to do.” He broke out in a cold sweat, despite the rain, and felt paralyzed with uncertainty. How could he make this decision? He was just a kid, and a kid who didn’t know much about anything anyway. He couldn’t decide. He opened his mouth to ask Whilly’s advice, when a strange voice suddenly stopped him, calling Whilly by name. By name?

  Bradley Wallace, someone is calling me. Can you hear it? There was genuine amazement in the dragon’s thought transmission.

  Bradley Wallace was more than puzzled; he was stunned. “Yes, I hear it, but I don’t understand.” No one knew about Whilly except him. And yet, someone was calling the dragon by name, and telepathically at that!

  Whilly, come down here at once! the voice continued petulantly, I won’t bite you.

  It was a girl’s voice, the boy concluded, scanning the barren mountainside below. Squinting against the sheeting rain, he finally spotted a lone figure, small and white, near the base of the shuddering volcano, gesturing wildly at the circling companions. “There!” he cried out to Whilly, pointing out the mysterious figure who somehow knew who they were.

  I see her, Bradley Wallace, Whilly acknowledged. Shall we go down there?

  The boy froze in hesitation, momentarily fearful of revealing himself and Whilly even more. But then common sense took over, and he realized that she’d already seen them, and apparently knew Whilly, at least, so there wasn’t much point in trying to ditch her. Besides, his curiosity was too great, and would not allow him to leave this matter unresolved. He signaled for Whilly to descend.

  As the dragon flew in closer toward the ground, Bradley Wallace was able, despite the rain, to see the mysterious girl more clearly. She appeared to be his age, or perhaps a couple of years older. Her flaxen hair, plastered to her neck and back by the unrelenting rainfall, was quite long, and her brilliant blue eyes seemed to shimmer like pools of clear, spring water. Her features were soft and delicate and gentle, a marked contrast to her lips pursed in consternation and the irritated stance she affected as she awaited the approaching companions. Her formerly white gown, now tattered and mud-spattered, looked very formal and regal, and she wore some kind of sandals or slippers on her muddied feet. All in all, she looked like a drowned rat to Bradley Wallace, and an angry one, at that.

  She shifted her weight testily in the lashing storm, hands clamped haughtily to her hips, as the dragon alighted a bit unevenly (due to the strong winds) to the ground before her. He lurched to a stop, and Bradley Wallace slipped off his back to splash face first into a muddy ditch slicing a twisting path down the mountainside. The girl erupted into fits of obnoxious laughter.

  Muddied from head to foot, Bradley Wallace sloshed to his feet as gracefully as possible, and turned on the laughing girl angrily.

  “What are you laughing at, anyway?” he demanded indignantly. Who was she to laugh at him?

  “You,” the girl giggled. “You look so funny.”

  He looked down at his tee shirt and shorts, now brown with oozing, dripping mud, then back at the giggling girl. “Yeah, well you don’t look so hot yourself!” he snapped. Girls were so weird sometimes.

  “Now, now, don’t get mad,” she replied in a more assuaging tone. “I was just teasing.”

  The impatient Whilly could wait no longer for these children, and interrupted their pointless banter. How do you know my name? he projected into the girl’s mind.

  She laughed at his bewilderment, and Bradley Wallace’s ire continued to rise. Did she have to laugh at everything? “Oh, my, I know all about you,” she told the confused dragon.

  Her tone was so easy and matter-of-fact that Bradley Wallace’s curiosity superseded his anger. What was she talking about?

  Everything? Whilly asked, and Bradley Wallace could feel genuine excitement in the dragon’s mind, almost human excitement. But that wasn’t possible, was it? Then the momentary surge was gone, and Bradley Wallace decided he must have imagined it. He turned to the girl to await her answer.

  “Well, almost everything,” she admitted, jutting out her chin arrogantly.

  Bradley Wallace had a million questions of his own, and when Whilly fell silent to contemplate the girl’s answer, he demanded, “Who are you, anyway?” The suspicion in his voice was obvious, and was not lost on the girl.

  “If you use that tone with me,
I won’t tell you,” she answered, teasingly.

  “Look, this isn’t funny! How do you know who we are?” he demanded, his anger percolating again. He also felt a shudder emanate from deep within the mountain. They didn’t have much time.

  “I don’t know who you are, but I do know Whilly,” she corrected, and then sighed heavily. “Oh, well, I suppose formal introductions are the proper way to act. I am called Josette, and I happen to be a sorceress.”

  She stood straight and proud, against even the attacking storm.

  Bradley Wallace gaped, his mind reeling furiously. Josette? Like on “Dark Shadows?” Could it be a coincidence? Had he finally flipped out and gone to Never Land or something? Was that what was happening? Had he fallen asleep somewhere and was just dreaming? But her annoyed glare boring into him was very real.

  “Well?” she demanded irritably.

  “Oh,” the boy mumbled lamely, snapping out of his muddled musings. “I’m uh, I’m Bradley Wallace Murphy,” he said with as much forcefulness as he could muster. But his voice cracked embarrassingly (something it hadn’t done much lately, but would have to return now), and she stifled a giggle. He flushed red and glanced quickly away.

  “And what is your title?” she asked matter-of-factly.

  “Title?”

  “Of course, silly, everyone has a title of some sort,” she explained in that infuriatingly condescending tone at which she was so adept at invoking. “Honestly, I think the rain has softened your brain.”

  Her insulting tone was resurrecting his anger, and he looked to Whilly for support. But the dragon appeared lost in some deep reverie, no doubt attempting to figure all of this out, the boy concluded. “Look,” he told the girl testily, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any title.”

  “Oh,” the girl went on, apparently understanding. “You’re a commoner. At what do you labor, then?”

  “Labor?” This conversation was getting stranger by the minute.

  “Are you hard of hearing, as well? I asked you what labor you do. It’s a simple question.” She shook her head in consternation.

  Bradley Wallace stared back at her dully, feeling as stupid as she obviously thought he was, for he honestly had no idea what she was talking about, or what she wanted with him.

  “Well,” he said for want of anything better, and because the inspiration just hit him, “I am an Assistant Good Humor Man.”

  He tried to match her haughty tone, but arrogance wasn’t his forte.

  He also realized how lame his job title must sound, but she reacted with delight.

  “A jester-to-be!” she exclaimed with a beaming smile. “How exciting. You must tell me all about it sometime. I imagine you travel extensively, don’t you?”

  He still had no idea what she was talking about, and didn’t believe any of it. Somebody was playing a joke on him, as usual. She wasn’t really a sorceress. There weren’t any sorceresses left in the world, were there? No, she was making a fool out of him, and he didn’t like that.

  “You’re not really a sorceress,” he challenged with conviction.

  “I most certainly am, Mr. Assistant Good Humor Man,” she shot back defensively. “Well, actually, I’m an apprentice sorceress, as if that’s any of your business.”

  Her haughtiness was met with another ear-shattering rumble from deep within the bowels of Mauna Kea, a rumble that shook the mountain violently and nearly knocked Bradley Wallace off his feet. He glanced up at the smoke billowing forth from the volcano’s mouth and shuddered with the realization that if they didn’t get off this mountain in a few minutes, they never would.

  “Look, I don’t know who you really are, but there’s been a big earthquake under the sea,” he tried to explain as quickly as possible, “and it caused this storm.” He gestured at the storm surrounding them. “It also started this volcano up, and it’s going to erupt any minute if we don’t do something.”

  “Oh, of course, that’s why I’m here,” she exclaimed, scanning the mountaintop with wide eyes. “Well, why are you standing here dawdling? You must take Whilly up there at once and stop it.” She was so maddeningly casual about everything, as though Bradley Wallace should know exactly what she was talking about. But he didn’t.

  “How?” he called against the howling wind, which seemed to be increasing in intensity, was blowing the girl’s sopping hair around her face like a ski mask. She yanked it away in annoyance.

  “By using your power, silly!” She shook her head in amazement that anyone could be so simpleminded.

  “Power?” Bradley Wallace repeated, only reinforcing his thick-headed image. “I don’t have any power.”

  “You don’t?” All pretense of condescension or haughtiness vanished. The girl was genuinely appalled by his announcement.

  “No,” he replied, unable to fathom her myriad moods. “Do you?”

  “Of course! Do all Assistant Good Humor Men ask such doltish questions?” She tried for flippancy, but he could see she really was confused. He also made a mental note to look up “doltish” first chance he got. But if she said it, chances were darned good it was an insult.

  “I don’t know anything about power or magic,” he admitted truthfully. “Except that Whilly has it.”

  “Correction - Whilly is it. There’s a difference,” she informed him scornfully. “I naturally assumed you had magic power since you are companion to the first dragon to be born in hundreds of years..”

  The mountain trembled again, and a sudden idea pierced the fog of Bradley Wallace’s confusion. “Say,” he blurted, “You said you’re an apprentice sorceress. Can your magic stop this volcano from erupting?”

  “Certainly not,” she exclaimed in that high-pitched chirp she seemed to reserve for such exclamations. “But I do know who can,” she added mysteriously, a taunting gleam in her sparkling blue eyes.

  “Who?”

  She folded her arms across her chest petulantly. “I’m not sure I should help you. You’re so pompous.”

  There was another word to look up. What was this girl, a walking dictionary? His anger bubbled to the surface again. “Look, Josette, or whoever you are, a lot of people could die if this thing blows up. Now if you don’t tell me what you know, I swear I’ll . . . “ He trailed off, leaving his upraised fist to finish the sentence for him. She was so infuriating!

  Some say the world will end in fire . . .

  Why did he think of that?

  Josette shook her head. “For an Assistant Good Humor man, you certainly aren’t very funny.”

  “Good Humor is a kind of ice cream, stupid!” he shouted viciously at her. But she appeared unruffled by his outburst.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Ice can’t be creamy.” She laughed effortlessly. “Besides, I was only teasing anyway. The only one who can stop that exploding mountain is Whilly.”

  That declaration seemed to penetrate the dragon’s almost catatonic contemplations, and he inclined his rain slicked head toward the girl. Me? But I do not have the power.

  “Of course not,” the girl concurred, “Because dolt head here lost his crystal or, more likely, was too simpleminded to have been given it in the first place. We’ll have to use mine.”

  Bradley Wallace blinked his eyes a few times, not because of the pounding rain, but just to make sure he was really awake. Yet the girl remained standing before him. And her increasingly rude remarks only added fat to the fire of his anger. He flung his arms across his chest huffily and pointedly ignored her as she moved to the uncertain dragon. But he did watch carefully from the corner of his eye everything she did. Girls like her sure couldn’t be trusted.

  Some say in ice . . .

  Josette moved to a muddy, but stable spot directly in front of Whilly, and reached up to a light golden chain around her throat, pulling from beneath her rather low-cut gown (the boy couldn’t help but notice, and squirmed a trifle uncomfortably) a multifaceted shard of crystal.

  T
he sight of that crystal stirred a familiar memory in Bradley Wallace’s mind. But he was too wet, confused, frightened, and angry to focus on that or any other memory.

  “Now Whilly,” the infuriating girl said easily, and without that condescending tone she employed with Bradley Wallace (which made the boy even more angry, that she’d treat the dragon as an equal and him like dirt), “Sit down on your haunches and hold this crystal between your forepaws.”

  The dragon immediately complied, his trust in her swelling Bradley Wallace’s wrath still further. But Whilly remained oblivious to the boy, intently focused upon this strange girl who’d so suddenly and swiftly disrupted their lives. She closed her eyes, and Bradley Wallace noted the extreme concentration etching her features.

  From deep within the crystal, a blue light began to emanate, slowly spreading outward from its center in a bright pulsating luminescence that gradually encapsulated both girl and dragon completely, limning them with throbbing radiance.

  Bradley Wallace dropped all pretense of pretending not to watch. Wide-eyed, he gaped outright at the brilliant azure glow surrounding his friend, and feared for the dragon’s life. But when he stepped forward to interfere, Whilly cautioned him to stay back, assuring him the throbbing light was not harmful.

  As quickly as it appeared, the glow began to dissipate. At least, that’s what Bradley Wallace initially thought. But looking more closely, he realized the glow wasn’t dissipating at all - it was being re-absorbed into the center of the crystal. In a matter of seconds it was gone, and Josette calmly stood before Whilly in the pelting rain as though nothing unusual had transpired.

  Bradley Wallace ran to the dragon’s side, nearly slipping in the mud in his haste. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice anxious, staring intently into Whilly’s glazed red eyes.

  The dragon remained closed to him. Bradley Wallace turned on the girl, blazing with anger. “What did you do to him?” he demanded fiercely.

  “If you’d simply look into his mind instead of yelling at me, you’d see that all I did was awaken his dormant power with my own.”