by Nathan Roden
“I do not HAVE ALL DAY!” the dragon’s voice shook the earth.
The man sat on the ground. He took off his boots and his socks. He stood and shucked his trousers and shirt.
The dragon raised his talon again. The man closed his eyes.
“Please…”
The man waited for death. When it did not come, he opened one eye.
A filthy old blanket hung from the tip of the dragon’s talon.
“Take it,” the dragon said. “You will suffer many thorns on your journey home.”
The man took the blanket and put it around his shoulders. He looked around.
“Where are we?”
The dragon pointed.
“Walk due west. You will find an old path that will take you downhill to the river. Follow the river upstream. Your farm is not far.”
The man stared at the dragon for a few seconds. He nodded and took a few steps west. He turned.
“I don’t suppose I could keep the boots? Or my short sword?”
The dragon shook his head.
“No. Sorry.”
The man nodded. He took a few more steps and turned again.
“Any chance I could get my clothes back—when you’re done with them? I don’t have many.”
The dragon raised his head into the air and breathed deeply. Four feet of flames shot from his nostrils.
“Never mind! Never mind! I’m going!”
“Stop!” the dragon said. “I did not mean to threaten you. The fire—it often comes without my intent.”
He hung his head.
“When I am done with the clothes, they won’t be worth having.”
The man walked away.
“Could I ask a favor?” the dragon asked.
“You ask a favor?” the man said. “From me? Are you serious?”
“Please, speak of this to no one,” the dragon said.
The man shook his head and turned to leave for the final time.
“Who would believe me?”
The dragon watched the man disappear into the trees.
He spoke to himself.
“When I take my rightful place on the throne, then all people will believe you.
“And King Simon will never forget you.”
Four
Simon stepped outside of his cave just before sunset. He watched the last of the day’s sun disappear. He focused on his breathing and tried to stay calm.
And he waited.
The intense pain was something he never grew accustomed to. As the full moon breached the horizon, his transformation began.
His wings drew inward. They shrank in from the tips with an awful cracking sound. The wings receded into his back and shoulder blades in a process that consumed two full minutes.
Simon tried to contain his cries, but he failed—as he always did. His anguish grew from a whimper to a scream and finally erupted into a blast of fire that reached forty feet into the night sky. With the full moon in place, Simon completed the transition from a two thousand pound dragon—
Into a one hundred and ninety pound man.
“There it is! There’s the fire! Sound the horns!” the shouting came from the river, on the downstream side. Simon heard the voices and the blare of the horns in the darkness.
He trembled on the floor of the cave. His skin burned hot. His back and shoulders screamed out in pain as he pulled himself to his feet.
He would not have much time.
Simon hurried to pull on the clothes. The socks were threadbare and both of the boots had holes on the bottom. The boots fit loosely. He tied pieces of rope around their tops. He grabbed his only worldly possessions—his sack of borrowed books. The owners of the books would likely refer to them as “stolen”, but Simon had every intention of returning them one day. He fled the cave.
Simon lost one boot. When he doubled back to find it, he heard someone yell.
“He was here! He was in this cave!”
Simon swore to himself. That was one more hideout he could no longer trust. That list was growing too long.
The people of the kingdom figured out the secret of the full moon a year ago.
They had found him again.
Simon was about to give up when he spotted the shank of the boot. He grabbed it on the run. The hunters were far too close for him to take the time to put the boot on, so he held it against his chest as he made his way toward the tree-line. He had flown over this mountain many times in the dead of night and he knew it well. Unfortunately, his bare feet were now all-too human. He clenched his teeth together and ignored the pain. He planned to use the rock-face on this side of the mountain to avoid being tracked. This tactic had saved his skin more than once.
He heard the sounds of pursuit behind him. Simon knew that many others had heard the horns and were on their way. He scrambled into the rocks and ran parallel to the tree-line.
“I see him! Above the trees! Look at the moon!” the shouting came from below him.
Simon looked up. The full moon was behind him—providing the perfect backdrop for his silhouette.
“Is your only purpose to curse me?” Simon said to the night sky. He turned to run again, but he stepped into a pile of loose stones. His right leg shot out from under him and he began to slide. Simon fought back a cry when his ankle twisted. He dropped the boot again. A strong hand grabbed his wrist.
It is finally over. Simon closed his eyes.
“Lousy time for a nap, Mate,” a voice said.
“Boone,” Simon said. “I had given up on you.”
“I can’t blame you, there,” Boone said. “I was a member of this hunting party ‘til an hour ago. I had to knock out two of my neighbors to get here.”
Boone pulled Simon to his feet. He gave him the boot.
“There are horses tied up less than a mile from here. We’d best be moving. They could come from all directions now.”
Simon and Boone abandoned the rock-face and fled into the trees. There was no more reason to be quiet. They halted when they heard the unmistakable sound of hounds in the distance.
“They’re getting better at this,” Simon said.
“You bet they are,” Boone said. “Every man in the Kingdom wants your head. And you have this nasty little habit of screaming and blowing flames into the air.”
“Tell me about the Witch,” Simon said as they dodged among the trees.
“Lady Magdalena was still—” Boone said.
“She’s no lady,” Simon spat. “And I’ll have worse names for her than ‘witch’ when I get my hands around her neck. Will they still have her under the watch of the King’s Guard?”
“They’re posting only two or three of late,” Boone said, breathing heavily. “They believe you’re no longer a threat and that they’re close to catching you. There are the horses. Hurry!”
Boone and Simon untied the reins. They mounted the horses as arrows flew past their heads. The hounds drew nearer. The men leaned against their horse’s necks and let them find their own way through the dense forest. The sounds of the hunting party grew faint and distant. The forest gave way to patches of green fields, and small running streams. The horses slowed and drank. Boone and Simon heard the dogs closing in again from two directions.
“We can’t let them surround us or we’re done for,” Boone said.
“How close are we to the main road?” Simon asked.
An arrow struck a tree next to Simon’s head.
“Not close enough,” Boone said. He pointed back up the mountainside.
“We should go back into the trees.”
Once again they put distance between themselves and the hunters. The horses continued to weave through the trees until the forest grew sparser. Simon saw smoke in the distance. They were nearing the village. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“We’re almost there, old frien—”
An arrow thrummed past Simon’s head and pierced Boone’s horse. A moment later, Boone cried out in pain. He clutched his side, and th
e quill of an arrow. His horse fell.
“NO!” Simon yelled.
Simon jumped to the ground. The hunters were closing in.
“Simon,” Boone whispered. “I’m shot.”
“I see that,” Simon said. “But you’ll have to help me get you on my horse—or we’re both dead.”
“Go. I’m done for.”
“Hold your tongue. I’m not leaving my only friend in the world to this bunch.”
Boone looked down at his blood-soaked hand.
“I don’t think a Healer can save me, Simon.”
“No,” Simon said. “We’ll need magic this night.”
The ground rumbled beneath them.
“We may have magic with us, after all,” Boone said.
Simon’s horse lowered itself to the ground. The horse nuzzled his companion as the wounded horse breathed its last. Simon hurried to help Boone onto his horse’s back.
They reached a fast-running river without seeing more arrows. The horse tried to take them into the water. Simon pulled on the reins.
“The river is too deep here, Boy. Let’s find shallow water.”
The horse was insistent. It plunged them into the deep water and quickly covered a great distance. They heard no more sounds from the hunters. Simon patted the horse’s side.
“I’m sorry I doubted your judgment, my good fellow. It won’t happen again.”
Five
The late night was silent except for the occasional distant wolf howl, barking dog, or whinny from a restless horse. Simon supported most of Boone’s weight while Boone continued to bleed. They stopped in the shadows of a dwelling; the home of the Sorceress, Magdalena.
“It is true, then,” Simon whispered. “Her home is clad in the King’s steel.”
He rapped the wall with his knuckles.
“I suppose I should feel honored.”
“Aye,” Boone grimaced. “I see but two guards—and they are prepared for nothing, except to sleep.”
“I’ll have to lower you to the ground, my friend,” Simon whispered. “Are you ready?”
Boone nodded. He whimpered and moaned as Simon lowered him to his backside. He exhaled and leaned against the wall.
“I am sorry, Simon. We were supposed to steal more books tonight—and I’ve gone and got myself shot.”
“It is not stealing. I only mean to borrow them for a while. Your language skills still need work, but we will worry about that later.”
Boone winced and nodded.
“Hold steady, Friend,” Simon said. “I’ll make quick work of these two.”
“Wait,” Boone said. “Take my sword. I have no use for it.”
Simon showed Boone the farmer’s short sword.
“I’m better off with this,” Simon said. “I had one just like it in the days of—when I was just a boy.”
“Where did you get that hideous thing? From some wash-woman?”
“That’s not a bad guess.”
Simon crept to the corner of the house. He picked up a stone and threw it into the trees. The guards straightened up. One of them crept toward the edge of the woods. The other stayed and guarded the entrance.
Simon hugged the wall of the house and held the short sword in front of him. He grabbed the guard at the door around the head—covering his mouth. Simon meant to whisper in the man’s ear to be silent, but the man bit down on his hand. Simon cried out in surprise and pain. The guard’s last decision had sealed his fate. Simon closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and drove the blade into the guard’s back.
“Look out, Simon!” Boone said, weakly.
The other guard ran to his partner’s aid. He raised his sword over his head. He paused when he heard Boone’s cry.
“Simon?” the guard said.
His mouth was still open when the dagger flew into it. The guard crumpled to the ground.
The dagger throw took the last of Boone’s strength. He toppled to his side—snapping the shaft of the arrow.
Simon slapped Boone’s face and begged him to wake up, to no avail.
Simon stood. He walked to the door and stood to the side. He banged his fist against it. He flexed his fingers as he heard the door latch operate. A woman’s head appeared.
Simon’s long-time dream came true.
His fingers squeezed the neck of the sorceress who had cursed him.
Lady Magdalena fought against Simon as he pushed her inside the house. He shoved her into a chair and pulled a length of rope from his waist. Magdalena continued to struggle. Simon held her arms and looked about the room.
“I do not intend to hurt you. I need you alive. But I notice that the inside of your home is still quite….vulnerable. Quite… flammable. You do not want me to be here when tomorrow’s moon rises.”
“What do you want?” Magdalena spat.
Simon chuckled.
“I want many things—but not on this night!”
Simon continued to bind the woman to the chair.
“What do you think I can do while bound to a chair? Sing for you?”
“I have to go get something,” Simon said. “And I, of all people, know you cannot be trusted.”
“If you’ve killed my guards, you have little time to accomplish anything. We both know you won’t kill me—your curse is bound to me.”
Simon leaned close to Magdalena’s face. She turned away.
“It is true. I have considerable restraint while in my human form, My Lady. But remember this—countless days and nights I have shivered in an empty darkness. There have been nights when my hunger is so strong that nothing matters to me more than my next meal. In those moments, while my body regains strength by consuming another’s flesh—when my thoughts grow still and I am aware of the innocent blood that drips from my mouth onto the cold ground—
“In those moments, my foul mood knows no limits and I yearn for death.
“In those moments, I could snap your neck without a second thought, and then plunge myself into the deepest sea.”
Simon dragged Boone through the door and laid him on the floor in front of the sorceress.
“You will help him, or at the next moon we shall fly to Valhalla together.”
“Untie me,” Magdalena said. “Get him on the table and strip him.”
Simon drew Boone’s sword. He stared at Magdalena as he leaned the sword against the hearth. He untied her. Magdalena examined Boone’s wound.
“Don’t even think about—”
Magdalena did not look up.
“I possess an outstanding memory. I have not forgotten your threats. Right now, I need for you to be quiet.”
Magdalena gathered containers from her cupboard and sprinkled them into a cauldron. She chanted unintelligible words. Boone stirred and moaned.
“Open his mouth,” Magdalena said.
Simon lifted Boone’s head with one hand. He spread Boone’s jaws open with the other. Magdalena poured liquid from a cup down Boone’s throat while she continued to chant. Boone swallowed. He coughed. He began to shake.
“Hold onto him,” Magdalena said. “There will be a great deal of pain.”
Simon held Boone’s hands and laid his weight across him. His face was inches from the shaft of the arrow. Magdalena resumed her chants. They became quicker and louder.
The sorceress dipped a ladle into the steaming cauldron. She held it above Boone’s side and poured. Her chants became shouts. The liquid sizzled as it hit Boone’s flesh. His back arched in agony. He screamed and bucked against Simon’s grip. It was all Simon could do to keep Boone on the table.
Six
Simon struggled to breathe. Blood ran down the length of his forearms where Boone clawed at him. The smear of blood made holding Boone even more difficult.
Boone bucked against Simon’s grip until he grew weak. Magdalena continued to chant. She refilled the ladle and poured again.
Boone quivered under Simon’s grip. The end of the arrow shaft vibrated. Its movements became more intense until it w
as moving too fast to see. Boone cried silently and tears rolled down his cheeks. He was too exhausted to scream or to buck any more.
Simon could not take his eyes from the arrow. The skin on Boone’s side glowed red. White, oily smoke poured from the hole in his side.
The shaft of the arrow grew longer. It grew longer still. It grew to the length of a man’s hand until the edge of the arrowhead appeared. When the widest of the arrowhead exited Boone’s body, he arched his back and screamed. He fell back to the table, unconscious.
The arrow clattered to the floor.
Magdalena stumbled back to the chair and fell into it. Simon put his hand across Boone’s chest. He felt his friend’s heart beating strong.
“Will he live?”
Magdalena laughed.
“Of course, he will live—as surely as you will continue to cross the sky save for one damnable night at the full moon. You have somehow managed to make one friend. How did you accomplish this?”
“Do not think you have earned the right to interrogate me, Witch.”
Magdalena dismissed the remark with a wave of her hand.
“I have been called every foul name in six different tongues, Son of Bailin. Do not think—”
Simon whipped the sword toward Magdalena’s neck.
“Never address me that way again.”
Magdalena lifted one hand and placed a finger against the tip of the sword. She pushed it away.
“As you wish, Simon—the would-be King. We have an understanding. No more name-calling.”
Boone moaned and stirred, but remained unconscious.
“You have done an admirable thing,” Magdalena said. “To trade one’s life for another is indeed the noblest of sacrifices.”
“I have no intention of dying anytime soon.”
