by Paul Cude
Rolling waves made out of metal surrounding the polished stone on the floor all about the forge. Some that could fit in the palm of your hand, others taller than the bipeds that flourished across the world, putting their uneducated stamp on it if you like. Silver, bronze, brass and, even one (the smallest, due to how rare and valuable it was) made of laminium, a substance that has the ability to enhance a dragon’s magic, one found in microscopic amounts across the world, generally in much colder climates, making it that much more difficult to get hold of because of the mind-numbing effect chilly weather has on their prehistoric bodies. Willing his vision to close in on the tiny metallic sculpture, for once it obeyed, moving up close, enabling him to see the most minute of details. The crest of the wave looked like perfection, so lost was he in the writhing curves, caught up in the realistic movement, the glint of water turning into powerful white foam, almost making it possible for him to smell the salty fresh air that he so longed for.
Abruptly, he was snapped away from his crafting thoughts and back to reality as a familiar voice welcomed him home.
“My friend,” declared the king on seeing him walk through the door, “it’s so good to see you. How was your journey back?”
“Good sire, thank you for asking.”
“And I suppose you snuck off to some beach or other before coming straight here.”
More of a statement than a question, it was only really then that he realised just how well his friend knew him, probably better than he knew himself in fact.
“Well... I might have stopped to... you know, take a comfort break. When you reach my time of life, things downstairs start to get a little wobbly and unreliable. Oh what I’d give to have the body of a dragon half my age.”
“Hmmm...” uttered the monarch, not believing a word of it.
“And just how are my new subjects faring?”
“They’re doing pretty well, all things considered. I think it will take them some time to grasp the rule of law, and its consequences, but apart from that, they’re making great strides in the right direction. Over the course of the week or so that I was there, it was easy to see the change not only in dynamic but in attitude. From being downtrodden and fearful of everything, by the time I left genuine laughter and smiles were abundantly clear from nearly every being there. It was heart warming to see such a drastic change in the right direction, Majesty.”
“Good work my friend, and that extends to the others there. I’ll make my feelings known to them when they come back. Did you find out anything useful in your travels?”
“You mean did they have a library, and did I scour it mercilessly every night that I was there?”
“Something like that,” chuckled the king, unable to put it better himself.
“They did, and I did,” replied his friend, all the time smiling.
“And...”
“After sorting through a whole host of dross, I’m pretty sure I’ve uncovered some unpolished gems.”
“Is that so?”
“Sure is. Watch this,” announced the mighty, blue shaded dragon.
Taking a breath, whilst at the same time composing himself, he stretched out one of his spindly looking fingers, and using the words from one of the scrolls that he’d found, one that he’d already tried to make sure that it worked, with just a tiny dribble of magic, trying not to be reckless at all... let rip. Suddenly, a purple tinged fork of bright green lightning arced across the room, splitting a tiny clay replica of the king on a shelf over twenty five metres away, sending shards scattering in every direction, the accompanying BOOM and CRASH bringing dragons running from all directions, much to the king’s dismay.
“Excellent,” replied Greger, the dragon king, more than a little sarcastically, before dismissing all those onlookers that had just arrived.
“And before you say it, I’m just off to see Orac in the library so that I can add it all to his growing collection,” smiled his friend, pleased at his little demonstration, having never really liked that particular piece of art.
Shaking his head at his friend’s showing off, all the monarch could say was,
“He will be pleased.”
“How will we know?” answered For’son mischievously, over his shoulder, well aware of the fact that the stoic librarian rarely smiled.
“Cut him some slack,” ordered the king, slightly more seriously than intended. “He’s been through a great deal, alright. And without him, things down there would be a mess.”
“I know, I know,” reflected For’son. “I was only joking. He’s a good being to have around in times of peace or crisis, and I’d trust him to have my back, that alone should tell you how highly I regard him.”
“It does,” answered the king, pleased to see his friend slightly more serious.
“Anyhow,” announced the crystalline blue, freshly returned mighty warrior, “I’m off downstairs to the library. If you need me, that’s where I’ll be. Catch you later.”
And with that, he gave a respectful nod, before turning on the spot and heading off towards the nearest open chute that would allow him to gracefully glide down two levels to where the library was located.
Fighting against the roaring wind and the stinging rain, across what would now be regarded as the North Sea, but was at this time much, much more than that, a bold, daring and courageous female dragon was having one hell of a time of it. Exquisitely coloured golden wings gave all that they had to propel the beautiful female on, muscles and tendons burning like the touch of the hottest lava, provoking the fiercest pain she’d ever known to inundate her mind, causing her momentarily to squeal out in agony, not that it could be heard over the harsh howls of the monstrous wind that she found herself caught up in. Sticking out like a sore thumb, her golden, yellow and orange brilliance against the darkest black and grey clouds and the nightmarish shadowy water below topped off by devilishly white foam, fought for all she was worth as the thunderous roar of the vicious waves crashing together continued in one long symphony. Had anyone but the elements been there to witness her epic battle, it would have been obvious to them that the gorgeous prehistoric beast was losing her fight, which compounded matters a great deal you see, because she was carrying an urgent message for the monarch of this world, an important one about an unruly species from her home land that had started taking dragons against their will, and turning them to their side without the slightest hesitation. How it had been done was a mystery to the best minds amongst her kind in the homeland that she loved above all else. If they were to succeed in vanquishing these dastardly foes, then the only solution lay with the king and the bright minds in the capital, somewhere she was headed for at her fastest speed possible. And then, from out of nowhere, this storm had appeared and seemingly dashed all her chances. But even though the circumstances were dire, she soldiered on, pushing away the pain, battling the driving wind and the squally gusts, ignoring the rain pelting her magnificent scales, using her massive tail as a giant rudder to steer her in the right direction. Concentrating only on the next flap of her wings, she doubled her resolve, thoughts only of those of her land, and howling like a banshee whose privates had been caught in a bear trap, pushed ever forward.
“Orac,” ventured For’son, on entering the multi-roomed library, that seemed to have gained at least another three or four dozen aisles of books, in his absence.
“For’son,” grumbled the distinctly shy and retiring librarian who’d been tasked with putting the library together and making it the most astounding and complete magical repository of its kind on the planet.
Without looking up from the text that he was reading, just sensing the dragon he regarded as reckless and impulsive standing there waiting to be seen to, he knew there was no getting out of it.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, not really wanting to and more than a bit miffed at being interrupted, not for the first time today.
“I’ve just arrived back. Did you hear about the battle?”
“I did,
” replied the librarian, head still buried in a book.
“What do you think... is it worth noting down for future generations?”
“Is that the only reason that you’re here?” asked Orac, slamming the dusty red tome with ancient silver hieroglyphics embedded into the cover, firmly shut, an insignificant act that showed just how much he was irked.
“Come on... you know it makes sense, on so many levels. If you’re keen to detail it, I’ll gladly sit with you and recount it from my point of view.”
“I bet you would.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means... that all you’re looking for is the glory that comes along with such deeds. For once, why don’t you come to me with a selfless act, one truly worthy of taking down and preserving for future generations?”
“Are you saying that I’m not worthy?” added For’son, starting to get put out.
If the timid librarian noticed, it didn’t show.
“Not you yourself, but your actions. You’re, by your own admission, a fighter, a dragon taken to following your baser instincts, letting your bloodlust control your temper, attitude and in particular, your actions. I’m not here to catalogue all of that, because if I was, there’d be too much for me to take note of.”
“If not that, then what?”
“I think you already know, For’son. Use that deeply developed brain to either outwit your opponent or settle things peacefully.”
“But... but... but...”
“Yes... I know that you did, to some degree. But you still murdered their leader, is that not right?”
Swallowing nervously, something of a new experience to our brave royal protector, For’son pondered his reply.
“That was more out of necessity than anything else. If there’d been another way, then I’d obviously have taken it.”
“It’s always the same story with you. Don’t get me wrong,” continued Orac, “I greatly admire what you do, and your dedication to not only your job, but the monarch as well. I just wish sometimes you would use your brain to outthink your opponent and come to a peaceful resolution. After all, that is the whole point of what we’re doing, trying to bring peace to the entire world as we know it, for the benefit of every living creature.”
“Not sheep though, or cows,” uttered For’son, only half sarcastically, referring to two of his favourite snacks.
The librarian offered up a withering glare in return for his remark.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, and I’m sorry. But with Ahrensburg remaining very much untamed, I think a non violent solution to THAT problem is as out of reach as the moon or the sun.”
“But you don’t know that,” ventured Orac. “How do you know before you even try?”
‘Under normal circumstances,’ thought For’son, ‘he’d be right.’ But they as a united front had history with Ahrensburg, a very bloody and brutal one at that. Diplomatically, everything had been tried, over and over again, all to no avail. Scouts and even ambassadors that had been sent by the king himself had been sadistically slain for just daring to approach their borders, their viciously tortured bodies strung up for all to see outside of their lands, a warning to others about approaching, something taken heed of by the king, despite wanting to exact revenge for the senseless murder of those only following his commands. What very few knew though, For’son mused as he stood patiently in the entrance to the library, and he was one of the lucky ones, was that even as he stood speaking to Orac, plans had already been enacted that should, if they worked, provide some sort of flow of information by an underground network of dragons from within Ahrensburg, hopefully gaining them more insight and possibly even a chance of resolving the last remaining outpost to resist the opportunity to ally themselves with the rest of the planet and of course global peace. Unfortunately Orac was not in the loop at the moment.
“Does any of the evidence from our previous diplomatic attempts show anything but savagery and aggression?” asked the king’s protector and friend.
“No, but it doesn’t mean it’s not there. Perhaps we’re going about things all wrong. Just maybe in their culture, there’s some sort of tradition when greeting outsiders for the first time and anything but that is an affront to them,” suggested the librarian.
This gave For’son food for thought, admiring the guardian of the repository’s stance and peace loving nature.
“I grant you that just maybe there is a chance that it’s something like that, but don’t you think it’s more likely that their natural born dragon instincts are kicking in, urging them to fight rather than negotiate? If that’s the case, then we have our backs to the wall if we want to bring them under our banner and show them a better way of life.”
“What if they don’t want the ‘better’ way of life that we’re offering? Have you thought about what happens then?”
“I suppose it depends on who you’re asking. Perhaps the leaders don’t want change or peace... why would they if they can take what they want through violence, torture, intimidation and force? But the rest of the dragons there, struggling along, trying to make their way through life without rocking the boat or being noticed, subjugated and ruled through fear... what about all of them? And from what we know, that certainly seems to be the case.”
“If that looks likely, then I understand the need to quite literally fight fire with fire. All I was pointing out is that there are many different ways to get to the same conclusion. Open your mind just a little, and you’ll see that I’m right. You’re in here all the time, reading tome after tome, devouring everything in front of you, which makes me not only very proud, but admire you even more. Take in some of the history stored on these shelves, learn lessons from times gone by, both good and bad, and you’ll get a better sense of not only the world and the lands that it holds, but of yourself. I truly believe the knowledge held here can open up minds, inspire dragons not only to better themselves, but see reality in a much different way. In only a hundred or so years, think how much we’ve changed as a race, how we’re more able and less violent. Now working together for the good of every single member of our race, just the very thought of that would have been laughed at one hundred and fifty years ago, but look at what’s been achieved. We’re on the cusp of peace... who’d have ever thought that would have been possible?”
“It still might not be,” voiced For’son, his concern about that very last land almost palpable across his huge prehistoric face.
“I don’t think you believe that any more than I do,” replied the librarian with a slight smile.
“I suppose not,” answered the warrior.
“What say we agree to disagree and vow to try and look at any new differing situations from the others’ point of view? Can’t say fairer than that!”
“DONE!” replied For’son, playfully slapping Orac on the shoulder, much to the librarian’s surprise.
“So what brings you to the darkest recesses of the city, For’son?”
“On my travels I found another... not quite library, more like a hole in the ground in which was kept all of their scrolls and what little reading material they possessed.”
“Did you bring it back with you?”
“Sorry... no. It was all in quite a state and would almost certainly not have survived the journey back. But I did read all that I could and would be honoured to recount it all to you.”
That sparked the fire of interest in the librarian’s eyes.
“You’re happy to do that?”
“I most certainly am,” replied For’son, keen to get started.
“Now?”
“Sure.”
And so grabbing two full bottles of ink, half a dozen quills and as much parchment as he could carry, Orac led the king’s protector through the aisles of books to a massive table at the back of the underground space, before carefully clearing everything off it. After that, they both sat, the librarian unfurling the first of the blank scrolls.
&
nbsp; Plummeting from the cold, dark sky, she landed with a bone rattling CRUNCH atop the soft, yellow sand of the beach, considering herself the luckiest dragon alive at having stumbled across landfall just in time. Unable to move even an inch, every muscle in her massive prehistoric body convulsed in fire-like agony, forcing her to cry out, something so undragon-like it made her head spin, so lost was she to the pain. As the howling gale continued to blow and the rain turned to a steady drizzle, the relatively young dragon, her golden, yellow and orange hues fitting right in with the surface she lay on, drifted off into unconsciousness, her very last thoughts centred on the mission she’d been tasked with. As the stark reality of failure hit her like the concussive force of a huge explosion, Keesha, as that was her name, apologised to the rest of her kin, not of course that they could hear her.
