To Kill A Dragon
“I do not
write for children, but for the childlike, whether of five, or fifty, or
seventy-five".
-George MacDonald
Alice
walked along the top of the stone fence. A warm, wet wind swept down the lane toward
her. Her black curls whipped her face, and her cloak flew out behind her like
huge bat wings. Her small, bare feet slapped the cold stone of the fence with a
lonely rhythm. She walked until her path was interrupted by a gate in the
fence, but with cold determination, Alice took a running start toward it and
landed precariously on the other side. Her bare toes gripped the stone with
practiced expertise, and she continued her walk. At eight years old, she was a serious
girl. Her eyes, shrouded by dark brows and lashes, were the color of the sea on
a cold, cloudy day. She was small and thin, but quick and intelligent.
Alice
looked across the countryside which was scorched and blackened. Old burned remains
were all that was left of what was once a grove of trees: dragon’s work. She picked
up her pace and started running along the fence. When her path diverged, she
leapt down and continued across a wide expanse of green hills. The soft grass
oozed mud between her toes as she ran. The darkening sky threatened rain but
just as the first heavy drops fell, Alice opened a door in the hillside and
jumped in. The turf-covered door looked much like a cellar door and was almost
invisible against the hillside as it closed behind her. A thin stream of smoke
rose from the ground on top of the hill.
“Alice,
darling, is that you?” a warm voice spoke to Alice out of the darkness.
Alice’s
eyes adjusted slowly. “Yes,” she answered drearily. “It’s raining outside.” Her
small voice was tinged with disappointment. She was standing in an entryway
which was paneled with dark wood. Several hats and cloaks hung on pegs in the
wall, and pairs of muddy shoes stood under them. She noticed that her father’s
cloak and sword were missing from their place.
Her
mother appeared from around the corner of the kitchen to help Alice with her
cloak. Alice was similar to her mother with her dark hair and pale skin. But
her mother was far prettier – in Alice’s opinion. She was always clean and tidy,
and her black curls were braided in a circle on her head. Today there were sprigs
of ivy woven in. Several tendrils of hair had escaped the braid, and flour was
smudged on her cheek. This always meant delicious food was cooking.
The
home consisted of one large room, paneled like the entryway that served as the kitchen
and eating area as well as two other smaller rooms – the larder and Alice’s
parents’ room. A fire was crackling in the fireplace that took up most of one
wall. The walls were lined with shelves filled with books and vases of flowers.
Several bundles of dried meat and herbs hung from the beam that supported the
ceiling. A large skylight in the ceiling provided light during the day. Rain
pitter-pattered on the glass pane. The tantalizing smell of baking bread and
savory meat assailed Alice’s senses, and her stomach growled. The supper table
was set with a red cloth and several tall candlesticks. Alice’s wolfhound Leif
took up most of the carpet in front of the fire.
“Why
isn’t Leif out with Father?” Alice asked her mother.
“Oh,
his leg is bothering him again,” replied her mother. “Set the table, please,”
she said, reaching over the shaggy, grey hound to stir the stew which cooked
over the fire.
Alice
frowned in concern for Leif as she climbed up on her stool in order to reach
the plates on the shelf. Leif had gotten into a fight with a boar her father
had been hunting and had been injured. Alice knew that Leif hated getting left
behind.
“Where is Father?” asked Alice.
“He
had to go to town.” Alice’s mother opened the little oven to check the process
of the bread. A lovely smell wafted into the home.
Alice’s
stomach growled again, so she snuck a handful of blueberries from a bowl on the
counter.
“Why
did father go to town?” she asked, popping a berry in her mouth.
“He
had a meeting with the Council. Make sure your father’s pipe is filled for him,
please.”
Alice
packed her father’s pipe with tobacco as she always did, and stood on tip-toe
to set it on the mantel for his after-supper smoke.
“Is
it because of the dragon?” asked Alice, nervously.
Alice’s
mother nodded.
For
months now, there had been a great black dragon that came at night, raiding the
town of its livestock and occasionally eating a townsperson who got caught
outside after dark. It had first appeared, a month before, flying down from its
long sleep in the mountains, hungry and ruthless. It had recently burned down a
town very close by and eaten many of the people who tried to escape. Alice shivered
at the very thought of dragons. Her family lived underground because there was
always the threat of attack. She prided herself in not being afraid of very
many things, but she could not stand the thought of dragons.
“When is Father going to get home?” asked Alice,
climbing on her father’s chair to put her father’s special mug at the head of
the table. He had always been very particular about his mug. It never got
washed out – just rinsed. He said it added to the flavor. Alice’s mother
tolerated it with a certain amount of longsuffering.
“Soon,
hopefully,” said her mother while she hollowed out apples in order to stuff
them with raisins and cinnamon for desert. This had been Alice’s favorite
desert since she could remember.
“Oh
for goodness sake!” exclaimed her mother as she opened the raisin jar. Half of the
raisins were gone. “Oh, I have got to do something about those pesky little
imps,” she said, referring to the faeries which frequented the house at night.
They were harmless enough, but they stole food and tromped through the flour,
leaving little floury footprints all over everything.
Alice
liked the faeries, but seeing that her mother was in no mood for such a remark,
she said nothing and turned to Leif. Getting down on all fours she approached
him and started growling. Leif showed no signs of acknowledgement other than
for the dull thumping of his tail. With a tremendous Rawr, Alice pounced and tackled the huge hound. Leif was more than
twice her size and many times her weight, so she was no more than a fly on his
back. Leif rolled over and licked her face with a huge tongue. After several
minutes of rambunctious wrestling, both hound and girl collapsed in a heap of
fur and hair. Alice curled up against Leif and massaged his sore leg. She was
slowly lulled to sleep by the thump,
thump of his huge heart.
Alice
was awakened by a prickly kiss on her forehead. She opened her eyes groggily to
see the bearded, grey-eyed face of her father grinning down at her. She rubbed
her eyes and smiled sleepily.
“Good
morning,” said her father winking.
“Morning,”
she yawned. “Is it really morning? Did I miss supper?”
“Yes.
I ate every last scrap.”
Alice’s
stomach grumbled. “You are lying,” she said, rubbing the last sleep from her
eyes.
Her
father burst out laughing – a hundred tiny wrinkles spread out from his eyes.
“I am, am I?” he reached down a huge hand and scooped Alice up under his arm
like a sack of flour. Alice yelped in protest, but giggled.
Alice
sat at supper and devoured her meal in silence. She listened intently to her
parents’ conversation.
“So,
did the Council come to any decision?” asked her mother, nervously spooning
peas onto her plate.
Her
father chewed his food thoughtfully. “Well…” he said, slowly drawing out the
word. “We are going to have a lot more trouble than we thought in getting rid
of the dragon. It seems we have a very angry wizard on our hands.”
“Bjorn?”
asked Alice’s mother, speaking of the wizard that lived deep in the forest
outside of town.
Wizards did not live close to each other.
They preferred to spread out and have their own space. Bjorn was the only
wizard for miles around, and it was absolutely necessary to have his help in
order to get rid of the dragon. Dragon’s skin is almost impenetrable, and they
can battle a huge number of men without the slightest danger to their own
safety. The only way to kill or get rid of a dragon, short of an entire army,
was magic. And only a wizard could employ the use of magic.
Alice perked up her ears, but gave no sign
that she was paying any attention to her parents’ conversation. She was
uncontrollably fascinated with the whole business of wizards. She hated dragons, but wizards didn’t seem so
bad. They were moody and unpredictable but not malicious – unless they had
reason. Apparently Bjorn did. He was
upset with the townspeople for some reason and was plaguing them with all sorts
of troubles. Alice’s father told them how Mathias and his family had broken out
with warts – it hadn’t been pretty. He said that Old Widow Martha’s parsnips
had been snipped, her turnips were turned up, and her snapdragons kept nipping
at her. Apparently Bjorn thought himself quite funny.
Alice’s
mother was puzzled, saying that the people had always been on fair terms with the
wizard.
Alice
continued to munch her food silently. Leif had moved under her feet and she
threw him bits of food now and then. She
scratched his back with her little toes – which didn’t reach the floor. Alice’s
father thought that someone must have done something to anger Bjorn. But then
again, the townspeople had always been very respectful of the wizard.
“Did someone go into the forest and disturb
him?” asked Alice’s mother, nudging Alice’s elbow off the table with a scolding
look.
Alice’s
father said he didn’t think so. At least, no one had admitted doing so.
At
that, a small bell on the wall rang, signaling someone was at the invisible
front door. Alice jumped up and ran to see who it was. Leif lumbered after her,
growling.
“It’s
Barrett,” she announced with an air of disgust as she looked through a peephole.
“Do I have to let him in?”
Her
mother nodded. “Watch your attitude, Alice.”
Alice
made a face, making sure her mother didn’t see. She opened the door.
Barrett
was a gangly youth, a few years older than Alice, with dirty blonde hair and
freckles. He had a missing tooth, but that was only because his big brother had
knocked it out in a fight.
Alice
stood blocking his entrance into the main room.
“Hiya,
Alice!” said Barrett – too loudly.
Alice
didn’t answer, but pointed to his dirty feet, which he reluctantly wiped on the
mat. She let him pass, but only after narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.
She did not care for boys, and thought them rather a nuisance. Her father, on
the other hand, clapped the boy on the back and pulled up an extra seat for him
at the table.
“What’s
the word from your father?” he asked, pushing a mug of milk toward Barrett
while Alice’s mother served him bread and meat.
Barrett
took a long draught of milk and a too-big bite of bread before answering.
“Favver’s
fed up,” he said unable to pronounce his words with such a full mouth.
Alice
scrunched her nose at him in disapproval, and she turned her attention to
picking fuzz off her frock.
Barrett
told Alice’s parents that, just as Alice’s father had left the meeting, Barrett’s
mother was painting her new fence, and the paintbrush had flown clear out of
her hand and wrote a message on the fence – all by itself!
“What
did it write?” asked Alice unable to ignore Barrett any longer.
“I will have justice for the death of Pip –
foolish little townspeople,” quoted Barrett dramatically. “Bjorn thinks
someone in town killed Pip.”
“Who
is Pip?” asked Alice.
“Bjorn’s
falcon,” said Barrett confidently. He went on to explain that his father had
had enough of the abuse, and he, along with several other families, planned to
move to underground houses. They were going to start work the next day, and he was
wondering if Alice’s father would help.
Alice’s
father said of course he would help. He went to the mantle and lit his pipe. He
stood thoughtfully for a moment.
“Why
would he think we killed Pip? Why doesn’t he think the dragon did it? Or why
doesn’t he think Pip just flew away?” asked Alice, feeling that Bjorn was very
unjust in his anger.
“I
don’t know. But there is nothing we can do about it tonight,” said Alice’s
father, yawning. “The main thing right now is to just keep everyone safe from
the dragon – and away from Bjorn. Tomorrow I’ll go and help dig out the new
underground homes. Bjorn will cool off in time. We have bigger things to worry
about. And by bigger, I am, of course, talking about the dragon.”
The
next morning, Alice got up early, as usual, and ate a hurried breakfast. It was
her duty to go to the secret goat fold every day and let the animals out to
pasture after milking them. The fold was underground to keep the goats safe
from the dragon which almost always raided at night. During the day it was
fairly safe to be outdoors, and Alice let the goats out in the fresh air to eat
the grass and wander about the fresh, rolling hills. But she always kept a
weather-eye peeled for the familiar shadow of the dragon.
As
Alice sat on a large boulder from which she could see the whole herd, she heard
a harsh croak. She jumped at the noise and swung about gripping the tiny knife
she carried, only to see a raven with a hunk of bread from her lunch in its
beak! She jumped up in rage yelling at the bird to give her back her lunch. But
it only hopped down onto the pasture further away. It looked at her with its
beady eye – almost daring her to get close. She jumped down from the boulder
and gave chase. It flew away from her, coming to rest a short way off. Alice
knew she was never going to get her bread back. She threw up her hands in
frustration and went back to her spot on her boulder. The raven ate the bread
but didn’t fly away. It hopped a few feet from the rock and sat there staring
at her.
“Go
away!” she yelled. “You are not getting any more of my lunch!”
The
raven flew up onto the boulder, a few feet from her. She waved her arm at it
but it only flapped its wings before settling down to stare at her some more.
Alice looked at the raven with
curiosity. She remembered the summer before when her parents had taken her to
see a man in the village who had all sorts of different birds. There were
exotic, colorful birds who could talk, huge hunting birds that could spot prey
from a mile in the air, and, as Alice remembered most clearly, there was a
one-eyed raven that always sat on its master’s shoulder. It had been obvious,
just by the way it looked at Alice, that the raven was incredibly
intelligent.
“Could
I tame you, I wonder?” Alice mused,
looking at the glossy, blue-black bird next to her.
The
raven made no reply.
Alice
tore off a small bit of meat from her satchel and tossed it to the bird, which
caught it mid-air. Alice smiled to herself. This bird reminded her of Leif –
always begging. She tore off another small chunk, but this time, she placed it
about a foot away from herself. The raven looked at her very hard but didn’t
move toward the meat. Alice was distressed for only a moment, when the bird
hopped forward and stopped with its black head cocked to one side, calculating
her every move. Alice turned away from the bird and looked out to the goats
which were mindlessly eating. Everything was calm, and a light breeze rustled
through the grass. When she turned back to the raven, the meat was gone. Alice
kept this up until all her food was gone. When this happened, the raven stayed
only a few minutes before flying off.
Alice
sighed. She had just wasted all her food. She hopped off her warm rock and
paced to and fro among the goats, patting their heads and scratching their
ears. She tried very hard not to be too disappointed that the raven had gone.
The
next day however, the raven was back looking for more food. Alice tried again
and, this time she got the bird to hop right up to her and take food, as long
as she wasn’t watching. Alice continued feeding the raven until all her food
was gone. She expected the raven to fly away again but this time it stayed in
the meadow hopping around, looking for grubs.
As
Alice sat watching it, she scratched her head. The night before, her father had
mentioned that several families in the village were plagued with singing lice.
The more they scratched, the more the lice sang. It was driving people mad. So
far Alice had not heard any singing, but she worried about lice. And the more
she worried, the more her head itched. Her father had also said that one family
found several mice in the pantry who were arguing over who got to eat what.
Apparently Bjorn was still mad.
As the sun traveled across the clear sky, Alice
distracted herself by watching the raven which didn’t fly away until Alice
guided the goats back into their underground fold for the night.
A
few days later, as Alice sat at supper, her father complained that the dragon
had come to the village the night before and carried off one of the young girls
in the town. Alice felt her little heart do a summersault in her chest at the
thought. Alice’s mother, seeing that Alice was getting frightened, suggested
that they not
talk
about the dragon for now. So Alice’s father talked about Bjorn’s latest
trickery. Several frogs had been spotted at the town well trying to convince
several young girls to kiss them, saying they were really princes whom Bjorn
had bewitched – this may or may not have been true. Alice didn’t like this
story much either. She thought it time that someone go confront the grouchy
wizard. But her father said that it was too dangerous still. Bjorn might do
anything, and they didn’t need any townspeople turning into pigs or toads. To
keep her mind off the subject, Alice thought about her raven. She could hardly
wait to see it in the morning.
Over the next few days, Alice started to gain the raven’s trust. It started sitting on her arm and eating from her hand. Finally it would sit on her arm with no food being offered at all. It flew to her when she came into sight and recognized her voice. Alice named the raven Brend. A perfect fit. Her little raven. Brend sat on her shoulder all the way back to the underground home. She gave him the last bit of her lunch and set him in the grass. When he had eaten his morsel, he sat there looking at her. Alice had to shoo him before he lazily took wing and flew away.
That
evening, Alice helped her mother with meal preparations as usual, with Leif
trailing her every move. His leg was finally starting to heal. When her father
got home, he announced that Barrett’s family’s new underground home had been
finished. Also, all of the singing lice had been killed, and with the proper
amount of reasoning, the mice had been convinced that they could find better
pantries in the next town. But, from what Alice’s father said, Bjorn had still
not cooled off. He seemed to have run out of ideas for now, but everyone was
sure he would think of more ways to terrorize the town.
After
supper, Alice helped her mother clean up and wash the dishes in the dish tub.
She put the leftover food in the larder and swept the floor. Her father sat
down in his rocker and smoked two bowls of his pipe as her mother continued to
flit around the home arranging things just
so.
“Alice,
time for you to go to bed,” said her mother. “You have to get up early to milk
the goats or they will go dry.”
Alice
washed her face and climbed onto her straw mattress on the ground next to the
fire. She did not have her own room, but she loved sleeping next to the dying
embers every night. Leif lay down next to her mattress to get his fur stroked
by her tiny fingers.
Alice’s mother blew out all the candles.
The fire sizzled and licked the last bits of wood which would occasionally pop,
sending up showers of amber sparks. The firelight played off her father’s
strong, bearded features, casting ghostly shadows on the wall behind him. Alice
loved running her fingers through her father’s beard. His eyebrows were always
sticking out at every angle, and she would lick her fingers and smooth them
down. Leif let out a loud, contented groan and snorted into the fire, which
sent up a cascade of sparks. Alice looked up to the skylight. The first stars
were becoming visible as the sun finally set. Alice giggled to herself – Brend
was sitting on the skylight looking in at her.
Finally, her mother came over and kissed
her cheek, smoothing the raven curls from Alice’s face. Alice’s father followed
suit after he hung the black covering under the skylight to keep the dragon
from seeing the light within. He didn’t see Brend, who blended in with the
night. He kissed Alice’s cheek and told her not to sleep tight and not let the
faeries bite – which they were notorious for doing. Alice didn’t mind though.
Once in a while, she caught glimpses of the mischievous people running about
the ground around her bed. Leif didn’t mind them much, unless they pulled his
fur too hard or tried to climb inside his ear. Then he would bite at them. But
they always just cried with laughter and jumped away.
Alice
was usually only half awake when the little folk came out, glowing with their
own magical light. They usually cast a sleeping spell on the house-dwellers, so
they could go about their frolicking and mischief-making with little
interruptions. But once in a while, Alice woke up long enough to see them
playing games on the furniture or dancing in a ring. They were a plethora of
different colors and hues – fair to look upon though they never stayed still
long enough for Alice to really see them in detail. However, as soon as one of
them noticed that she was not sleeping properly, it would squeal in rage and
all the faeries would scatter. Then one would jump up on her bed and bite her
hand or her ear, slap her on the face, and blow sleeping dust in her eyes. This
abuse never hurt terribly bad, though in the morning there might still be tiny
faerie teeth marks. Then Alice’s mother would cluck her tongue and tell her
that that’s what is to be expected when little girls don’t sleep like they
should.
On
that night, however, the faerie folk weren’t out. It was far too nice an
evening for them to be indoors. Alice guessed that on nights like these they
went to their faerie-rings in the forest to dance. Maybe they were at the
wizard’s. Alice started thinking about Bjorn. She wished that someone would go
and talk to him and try to make him understand that no one meant any harm to
him and that it was most likely that the dragon ate Pip. What if Bjorn got
another Pip? Maybe someone could give him another falcon as a pet.
An
idea struck Alice like a slap in the face. She had to take Brend to Bjorn. He
had to be the replacement for Pip. Alice lay on her mattress with a very uneasy
feeling in her stomach. Bjorn couldn’t have Brend. Brend was hers. Alice shut
her eyes to sleep. But the little niggling thought kept coming back. There is
no other way. There is no other way.
Alice sat up on her mattress. She knew that there really was no other way. She
had to take Brend to the wizard to make him stop all his nasty tricks.
She
looked to Leif who was lying next to her. He was fast asleep and snoring as
only a dog can. With slow, quiet determination she got up. Alice got up and put
on her darkest cloak and hood. She put several bits of food from the larder in
her satchel to tempt Brend and went to the door.
Out
in the warm, summer night air, all was silent and still. Alice’s heart beat so
hard she was sure that someone would hear it. She had not been out past dark since
she was very young – due to the threat of dragons. It was hardly dark out,
however. The moon was dazzlingly bright. Dangerously bright. A dragon could
spot her from a mile away. For a moment, she considered waiting for a cloudy night.
She discarded that thought, feeling sure that it was now or never.
As
she approached the meadow where she grazed her goats, she whistled and waited,
crouching in the shadow of her boulder, which seemed strange and unearthly in
the moonlight. A familiar croak met her ears as Brend flew to her outstretched
arm. He took the bit of bread, greedily, without as much as a thank-you. Alice
was fond of him nevertheless. She patted him on his silky back and scratched
him under his bird chin.
“Alright Brend, let’s find a
wizard.”
Alice
ran over the lake of moon-bathed meadow and Brend flew behind her. Their long
shadows glided over the ground behind them like specters giving ghostly chase.
After
what seemed like an eternity of running with the fear of being seen by the
dragon, Alice and Brend finally reached the forest with no sight of the dragon.
Perhaps it was over in the town trying
to find more people to eat. The trees
loomed up in front of her now, and she quailed. She had never before been so
near the forest, let alone actually entered it. The trees were very tall and
very black and very foreboding. Alice entered on a small path that wound into
the forest until it disappeared. Brend flew in after her. Somehow, with a raven
as her friend she was not so intimidated. Without the moon shining over her
head, it was almost completely dark, and Alice had to rely on the path not to
lead her astray. She was now chiding herself for not bringing a lantern.
Strange
noises started reaching her ears: clicking and screeching and other unearthly sounds.
Alice wondered if the wizard was watching her even now and if would cast a
spell on her before she could explain herself. Brend was not making things
easier. He insisted on croaking in the branches overhead and flying in front of
her abruptly. After about fifteen minutes of walking, Alice thought she saw a
light up ahead in the trees. It looked very much like faerie light. Perhaps
this is where all the faeries went on nights that they weren’t making mischief
in homes. Alice didn’t have long to wait. She was soon standing with Brend on
her shoulder at the edge of a wide clearing, ablaze with light. A fantastic
sight met her eyes.
But
what really caught Alice’s eyes were the faeries. Hundreds of them. Apparently,
this is why everything seemed so quiet at her home. They were all here. There
was a large faerie-ring in front of the low house with fungi of every shape and
color in a circle around it. The faerie-folk were playing games in it. It
seemed to be a version of musical chairs – or mushrooms – and tag, though Alice
was not sure that any of the faeries really knew what they were playing. They
were shrieking and laughing and fighting and making all sorts of noise. Alice
watched them in fascination while Brend crouched low on her shoulder as if
unsure what to think of the bright beings. Alice had never seen them when she
was wide awake.
Her
attention was soon diverted, however, by the appearance of an old man who
emerged from the door of the cottage. Alice guessed this must be Bjorn. He
looked every bit a wizard if ever a wizard there was. He was not terribly tall,
but rather stooped-looking with a long grey beard as all wizards should have,
and a long robe as all wizards should also have. A pair of spectacles balanced
precariously on his long thin nose, through which a pair of keen blue eyes
peered suspiciously. He was not wearing a pointed hat, as Alice thought he
should, for all wizards do, but she soon spied it on the ground by the rocking
rocking-chair. Half a dozen faeries sat on it or swung from the pointed tip.
Bjorn
shuffled over to the cauldron and stirred it with a wooden spoon. He sprinkled
in a suspicious looking powder. Alice was sure it was a potion meant for some
evil on the townspeople. She had to put a stop to it. But just as she had
mustered up the courage to step into the clearing, Bjorn had an outburst.
“Alright!”
he shouted toward the rambunctious faeries. “Pipe down, I tell you, or I’ll
trample your funguses – fungi.”
The
faeries only laughed, and one of them ran over and kicked Bjorn’s foot. Bjorn
must have had a terribly hard foot because the faerie yelped in pain and hopped
away, holding its sore toe, while all the others roared with laughter.
“That’ll
teach him to sauce me,” said Bjorn, grumbling to himself. “Rambunctious little
fools.” Bjorn went on for some time about the foolishness of faeries, all the
while adding tidbits to his cauldron.
Finally,
Alice decided that she could not wait any longer. It was now or never. With
determined steps, she marched into the clearing and stood, legs planted wide,
arms akimbo, fists on her hips, and Brend perched menacingly on her shoulder.
Everything in the clearing went silent for a moment. The faeries froze
mid-frolic, and Bjorn looked at her from over his spectacles with a look akin
to bewilderment.
He
stared at her very hard for a moment. “If you’re seeking employment, I have all
the elves I need. Besides, you are absurdly large for an elf.” He turned back
to his brew.
“I
am not an elf,” said Alice indignantly. “I am a girl.”
Bjorn’s
eyes flew back to her, and he marched up to her, his blue eyes blazing over the
top of his spectacles as he bent over her. “What are you doing here?” he
growled. “You murderous townsfolk aren’t allowed in my forest.”
Alice
squared her little shoulders and stuck up her nose. “This isn’t your forest,
Bjorn,” she said. “And we didn’t kill Pip!”
“Oh,
you’re on first name basis with the victim are you, little girl?”
“No,
but we didn’t kill him. The dragon did, I’m sure.”
The
old wizard seemed to think for a moment before shaking his grey head. “No, no,
I’m sure it was one of you people.”
Alice
stamped her foot. “It was the dragon, I tell you! They just eat, eat, eat,
anything in sight!”
Bjorn
huffed and shuffled back to his fire.
“And
if you weren’t so busy being old and cranky, and, and blind, you would see that!”
Bjorn
muttered something about “that arrogant little tart” but he turned to her
again. “So,” he said darkly. “Why have you come here to see Bjorn the Bear, the
great Wizard of the Wood?” he started to approach her again. All the faeries giggled
darkly, rubbing their little hands together.
Alice’s
heart jumped a little, but she was determined not to let Bjorn see how scared
she was.
Bjorn
started and for a moment just stared at the raven blankly. It seemed he had not
noticed it before on Alice’s shoulder, having blended in with her wild hair.
“A
raven,” he mused.
“His
name is Brend,” said Alice trying to shift the focus of the wizard’s scrutiny
away from herself.
Brend
glared at the wizard.
“I
have tamed him and brought him to you as a replacement for Pip, hoping you will
stop being mean to us.”
Bjorn
mumbled something about “the presumptuous tart” but made no comment. “How old
are you, girl?” he asked.
“Eight and five months,” she answered
confidently.
“Look me in the face, girl.”
Alice looked.
“Extraordinary,” he said, staring very
hard. Alice shifted uneasily under his scrutiny. He pinched her chin between
two boney fingers and turned her head from side to side. He looked at her
blackly for a moment.
“Did
those meddling villagers send you?” he growled. “Thinking they could just go bribe
a young, naïve, unsuspecting wizard to come and play her little unpracticed
tricks – beat me at my own game… those mischief-mongering, insubordinate fools.
How much did they pay you?”
“No one sent me!” cried Alice trying
very hard to break him out of his rant. “I just came here on my own. I don’t
know of any other wizards.”
“You mean to tell me that you are unaware
of the fact that you are a wizard?”
Alice’s eyes grew to an impossible size.
She stared at the wizard in dumbfounded silence. “I…I am not a wizard,” she
said trembling. “I am just a girl; my parents own goats, and I look after them.”
Bjorn burst out laughing. Alice jumped
and Brend fled to the trees with a squawk at the sound.
“Well, this is a new twist,” he said. “I
have here a young wizard who thinks she is just a normal girl bringing her pet
to appease me.” Bjorn chuckled again and shuffled back to the neglected
cauldron.
“But I am just a girl! I really am!”
Alice was alarmed and becoming more and more unsure.
“Come here, girl,” he snapped.
Alice scurried forward, unable to refuse;
Brend flew down to her shoulder as if to supervise the interaction.
“Do as I do,” Bjorn said. He held his
hand over the cauldron and spoke a word that Alice did not recognize. The spoon
started stirring the brew by itself. Bjorn stopped the spoon.
He motioned for Alice to try.
Alice spoke the words hesitantly with
her hand over the cauldron. The spoon started making nervous, shaky, circles in
the liquid. Alice yanked her had away and jumped back, shaking and wide-eyed. Brend
croaked with alarm.
Bjorn chuckled. “See,” he said. “I told
you. You have wizard’s blood in you if ever someone did.”
Alice was mute with shock. How could it
possibly be? She was a wizard? Impossible!
“Well!” announced Bjorn loudly, breaking Alice
from her thoughts. “Let me take a look at this peace-offering of yours.”
Alice patted Brend on the head as he sat
on her arm. She was trying very hard to recover from her own shock that it was
difficult to start even thinking about giving Brend up.
Bjorn plucked Brend off Alice’s shoulder
in one swift motion taking both girl and bird off guard. Brend shrieked in
protest, biting at the wizard’s gnarled hands. Alice cried out, grabbing at her
bird and pleading with the wizard to be careful with him.
Bjorn sniffed the bird, holding his
wings down and turning him over. Brend’s little stick-like legs pumped the air
trying to grab hold of anything. Bjorn then proceeded to pluck a feather from
the bird’s belly. He twirled it in his fingers and tossed it away.
“Hmm,” he said. “I think he will do just
fine. I have been needing extract of raven for some time now for a potion I am
working on.”
Alice screamed in rage and protest,
telling Bjorn to give her back her bird and she had changed her mind about
giving Brend away. Bjorn said it was too late for that, and Alice burst into
the best eight-year-old crocodile-tears that she could muster. She did not use
this tactic very often, in fact she thought of herself as too grown up for it,
but she decided that if ever she needed the tears, now was the time. Bjorn glanced
around looking very uncomfortable for a moment. The faeries had started to
gather to watch the performance – some of them pulling up toadstools to sit on.
“Okay, okay, stop!” said the wizard
thrusting Brend back into Alice’s arms. The raven nipped at his finger once
more before assuming his position on Alice’s shoulder to smooth his ruffled
feathers.
“You may keep him on one condition,” he
said.
Alice scowled at him suspiciously, tears
still pooling in her grey eyes.
“You must come here and help me with my
work. You also are in desperate need of training.”
“And you will stop your tricks?”
“Yes,”
Alice held Brend close, looking at the
ground, thinking hard.
“Alright,” she agreed. “I am not allowed
in the woods, so I will have to come at night,”
Bjorn agreed, saying that he didn’t
sleep much anyway.
“Are you hungry, girl?”
“My name is Alice,” said Alice.
“That isn’t what I asked,” said Bjorn
huffing about “that insipid tart.”
Alice admitted to be a little hungry. Her
thoughts were so jumbled with all the overwhelming things that had happened
that she could hardly think. She didn’t like thinking about the possibility of
her being a wizard. It was altogether unsettling.
Bjorn turned to the cauldron and filled
two wooden bowls which appeared out of nowhere.
Alice
quaked, asking if the contents were not witches’ brew, or a potion that would
make her sleep a hundred years.
Bjorn
peered at her over his spectacles. “First off,” he said. “I’m not a witch. I’m
a wizard obviously. Second off – secondly? Anyway, it’s not a potion. It’s
stew. Why are wizards so misunderstood?” He said to himself.
“But
the powder I saw you put in…”
“Crushed
rosemary. Smells wonderful and adds a lovely flavor.”
Alice
sniffed the dish. It smelled wonderful.
Bjorn
handed her a wooded spoon and tucked into his own meal. Alice took a tiny bite
and, finding it was not poisoned, followed suit.
“Do
you eat all that stew by yourself?” she asked referencing the huge amount of
stew in the cauldron. But as soon as she looked over, she had her answer. All
of the faeries were swarming the pot like locusts and, before Alice had
finished, the entire contents of the cauldron were gone.
“Greedy
little buggers, aren’t they?” said Bjorn shaking his head. “But unless they get
fed they get terribly cranky. As Wizard of the Wood, it is my unhappy duty to
tend to them.”
“You
made up that title by yourself, though,” said Alice.
“Do
you know of any other wizards in this forest?” snapped Bjorn.
Alice
said she didn’t and Bjorn said “point proven”. Alice wasn’t sure what point
that was, but she remained silent.
The
Moon was slowly traveling across the indigo sky above the clearing and the
faeries had quieted down, some of them lying about watching the stars. Crickets
were chirping and a light breeze rustled in the trees surrounding the wizard’s
home.
Alice
yawned. It must have been well past midnight. “I should go,” she said sleepily.
“So you will stop terrorizing the townspeople and help us with the dragon?”
“The
dragon? So that’s the real reason you came is it?” He looked at her hard and
she shuffled her toe. “No matter. We will speak of that later.”
Bjorn
looked closely at her face again as if checking to make sure he didn’t miss
anything. He nodded slightly and muttered something unintelligible. Then he
turned and shuffled back to his cauldron. He waved his old gnarled hand over it
and spoke a cleaning spell. A scrub brush and bucket of sudsy water got to
work.
Taking
this as dismissal, and with Brend on her shoulder, Alice turned and walked out
of the clearing and back into the black trees. The merry sounds of the faeries
faded along with the magical light of the wizard’s hut. Brend was silent and
still as Alice crept along in the woods. She reached up and scratched him under
the chin to cheer herself up and remind herself that she was not alone in the
blackness – although what sort of company a raven was, Alice was not entirely
sure. When they reached the end of the forest, Alice raced along in the
moonlight as quickly as possible. She thought that she could see the bat-like
shape of the dragon circling to and fro over the village in the distance
searching for food.
During
the days, Alice continued her training with Brend. He knew her voice and came
when she called, landing on her arm. In fact, in his own bird-way, he seemed to
be growing attached to her – not simply doing what she wanted for the treats.
At night Alice went to the wizard’s home in
the forest and helped him with all sorts of wizardly things – both magical and
otherwise. Most of the time, she helped him in his little garden pulling weeds
and tending to all sorts of vegetables varying in kinds from carrots and
cabbage to horseradish and hemlock, which he used in all sorts of brews. Bjorn
gave her a book on wizards – telling her that she needed to know her own kind.
Alice read the book from cover to cover.
In
the beginning, wizards had been sent to the world to be protectors of the
people and aid them in fights and otherwise look after them. Some of the
wizards fell in love with the beautiful daughters of men and married them,
having children by them and creating the race of partial wizards. Most of the
children of these unions did not carry the original magic of their fathers,
especially as generations passed, and the blood of their fathers ran thinner in
their veins. But, as in Alice’s case, there were still wizards born. And these
children were still bound to the calling of their forefathers – to protect and
guard the race of men. There was a vague disquiet in Alice’s heart as she
realized she was among those who were bound to this calling. But Alice enjoyed
her lessons with the wizard all the same.
Most
nights the faerie folk played outside the wizard’s house and generally got
underfoot. They thought Bjorn’s bursts of rage wildly funny and laughed when
Alice pleaded for silence. However, Brend was more successful in controlling
them. He flew over them and knocked a dozen over at a swoop. They regarded him
with sullen compliance and they kept more to their faerie-ring and kept their
noise at a respectful level – for faeries, anyway.
Alice
went to Bjorn’s house very often and stayed many hours. She soon learned to
accept the fact that she was a wizard and even started to secretly take pride
in it. As soon as her mother and father were asleep, she snuck out with Brend
and went to the little clearing in the woods. She returned home with a few
hours to spare for sleeping before her parents woke her up in the morning
thinking that she had been home all night. This gnawed on Alice’s conscience,
but she knew in her heart that she was doing the right thing in the end. After
all, the townspeople were no longer being tormented by Bjorn’s spells.
But
the dragon problem was getting worse. It was coming during the night more and
more. Nearly all the rest of the overground dwellers were digging out new
underground homes. It seemed like someone was getting eaten every week. And the
animals were disappearing as well. The dragon had also burned down a home to
get at the people inside.
Alice
was very thankful that her father had moved the family out of the village the
year before when a troll had been bothering the town and had moved the herd of
goats to a safe and hidden location. Barrett and his family were now safe
underground along with at least ten other families. But there were about
fifteen more that were still in the process of digging. They weren’t even
waiting to get their homes properly finished. They just wanted them big enough
to get in.
Alice
felt a twinge of guilt that night as she sat comfortably by the fire playing
with Leif while her father read to her, and her mother brought in hot, sticky
buns and tea. Alice was careful not to let her parents see as she set her spoon
to stir the tea all by itself. Leif sniffed at the spoon suspiciously.
That
night when Alice arrived in the clearing, she was met by the sour face of
Bjorn.
“There you are!” he said, irritably. “I
expected you ages ago!”
“I am earlier than normal,” said Alice,
puzzled.
“That
doesn’t matter. We have work to do.”
“We
do?”
“Yes,
yes of course, you silly tart. Tonight we are going to finish that potion we
started.”
They
spent the next few hours filling phials with a black, thick, gooey sort of
potion that Bjorn said would make a person tell their deepest, darkest secret.
Later that night, as she and the wizard
enjoyed a glass of very un-magical, un-alcoholic ginger beer, Alice brought up
the question that had been bothering her for some time.
“What about the dragon?” she asked tentatively.
“When will you kill it or drive it away? It has been eating more people and
more animals.”
“These things take time,” replied Bjorn
sipping his drink. “All in good time.” He grew serious. “I have not been
sitting idle. Killing a dragon takes lots of preparation. If I fail, it will
probably eat me and everyone else around. So we can’t be too hurried. Now,” he
said getting up and retrieving his staff which was leaning against the cottage.
“Show me how your fire-starting skills are coming.”
Alice had completely forgotten to
practice and as a result made a poor show of the demonstration. Bjorn made her
practice again and again before moving on to the next lesson – Shield casting.
“Now
watch closely,” Bjorn said. “If used correctly, a proper shield can deflect a
dragon’s fire just long enough for you to move away.” Bjorn held his staff out
in front of him. A green light burst from the end and spread out in front of
him like a transparent wall.
“Now
throw a fireball at me,” he commanded.
Alice
formed a blue fire ball in her hand and threw it at him but it bounced
harmlessly off the shield, fell to the ground, and disintegrated. Alice sighed
in dejection.
Bjorn
shook his head and rubbed his temples. “We need to go back to your fireballs. Listen,”
he said irritably. “You will never get better unless you concentrate. You will
probably never be able to form fire strong enough to break a shield – even
dragons have trouble with that – but that was weak, Alice. Very weak. Like a
small pebble thrown at an elephant. Your fire is not that bad, but your
trajectory is terrible. Now form another one but do not throw it.”
“I’m
trying,” Alice felt her lip quiver. Bjorn was trying his hardest to teach her
but she felt like she would never get any better. A tear formed in her eye but
she quickly dashed it away.
Bjorn
noticed. He grumbled quietly about little girls who cry, but his face softened,
and he knelt down to look Alice in the eyes. “We will break after this, Alice.
But you must bear with me because I am not used to teaching the art of wizardry
to others.”
Alice
nodded mutely.
Bjorn
took her tiny hands in his large ones. “Now, form a fireball.”
Alice
bent her will upon the creation, and the blue light started to form. It grew
and took shape growing condensed and heavy in her hand. It throbbed and
pulsated between her fingers and echoed in her ears as she compressed it into a
solid orb of blue flame. It was a powerful sensation that raised bumps on her
neck.
The
dark night grew darker around her as the light of the fire grew. The faeries
went silent in their ring and watched – their own luminescence dim in
comparison with the fire. The summer air became colder around her as the heat
of the fire in her hands grew. A brisk wind whipped at her hair and she could
not tell if it came from the air around her or if the orb itself was blowing in
her face. The trees rustled and grew uneasy. The grass beneath her feet lay
flat – splaying out in the circle around her like a ripple in a calm lake when
a rock is dropped in.
“Slowly,”
murmured the wizard. “Give it more shape. Control it. Do not let it control how
it forms. Beautiful,” he said. “Do not drop it. When you throw it, bring your
arm back to your shoulder and when you throw, step into it.” Bjorn walked a
distance away and cast his shield in front of him.
Alice
took her place. With careful aim she stepped and propelled the fire forward. As
it flew through the air, it left a comet-tail of fire behind it. With a great
crack, it burst upon the wizard’s shield and exploded in blue flame. Bjorn
stumbled backward a step and his shield wavered for a moment as the last embers
dissolved on the ground, scorching the grass.
A
respectful applause came from the faeries.
Alice
stood meekly waiting for his assessment. But Bjorn just stared at her.
“You
have done it,” he said finally. “I think I will make a wizard out of you yet.
Now do it again.”
Alice
grinned and, for the next hour, she pelted Bjorn with a hail of fire, each one
stronger than the next until Bjorn had had enough.
Alice
slept later than normal that morning and the goats were grumpy when she got to
their fold. After their milking, Alice laid down in the grass on top of a small
hillock for a nap while they grazed. She closed her eyes and listened to the
hum of bees zooming from clover to clover and the happy croaking of Brend as he
dug for worms. The goats crunched their grass contentedly. The noonday sun
warmed Alice’s face, and it seemed bright even behind her shut lids.
Then
a shadow passed. Alice opened one eye. The blue sky was clear and bright – not
a cloud was in sight. She shut her eye. Brend was quiet. She noticed that the
goats had gone silent too. The shadow passed over her closed eyes again. One of
the goats whimpered. Alice opened both her eyes just in time to see the huge,
black, reptilian body of the dragon sweep across her line of vision. Alice’s
stomach dropped.
The
dragon wheeled around again and made another pass over the herd – lower this
time. Alice jumped up and stood, transfixed, looking into the sky. She had
never seen the dragon. It was beyond anything her imagination could have
comprehended. Each leathery, black wing equaled the length of the dragon’s body,
which resembled that of a huge horse with claws instead of hooves. Its inky
black scales glittered in the sun. The pale, yellow underbelly glittered with
gems – imbedded from long sleep on dragon plunder, hidden somewhere in the
distant mountains. Instead of a mane, there was a ridge of hard spikes down its
neck.
Alice
trembled, unable to move. The dragon circled the terrified herd, as if to
decide which to devour first. It was not until Brend let out a shriek that
Alice was snapped out of her stupefaction. She jerked into action, as though
something else, outside of herself, propelled her forward. She prodded the
goats toward the fold. Brend flew around them to keep them together. The goats,
in confusion and terror, resisted. Alice felt that, at any minute, she would feel
monstrous teeth at her neck or feel the hot acrid flames scorch her.
The
dragon seemed to sense the attempt at escape. But he had yet to attack – like a
cat playing with a mouse. Alice heard the huge bat wings beat the air. The
dragon snarled. Though it was more of a screech than a snarl – but guttural, a
sound from deep within the fire-consumed belly. Alice heard herself scream, but
she didn’t remember telling herself to do so. It sounded far away.
Then
the dragon swooped so low that Alice had to throw herself to the ground in
order to avoid getting knocked over by a huge wing. When she looked up, she saw
the helpless body of a goat in its mouth. The rest of the herd bolted. Some of
them ran straight into the opening of the fold, but about two thirds of them
ran out into the meadow and across the green hills in reckless fear. Alice knew
it was hopeless to go after them. Then she thought about her fireballs. She turned
to look at the dragon which was ripping another goat apart across the meadow
and bolting it down.
Alice
began to form a fireball in her hand. The blue light started pulsating and
hardening as she shaped it. As the light grew, the dragon looked at her. Its
snake eyes burned yellow, and it dropped the goat from its mouth, which was
lined, top and bottom, with monster-sized canine teeth. It started to approach
Alice, its head hanging low, swaying side to side as its huge reptile tongue
tasted the air, and its huge reptile tale lashed its flanks. Alice quailed. Her
fireball started to dim in her hands, but she didn’t let it go. With one last
effort, she threw it at the dragon. It fell short of its target and melted into
the ground, scorching a circle in the grass.
This
seemed to anger the dragon, however, and it threw its head back, rearing on its
two hind legs. Alice waited no longer, but turned and bolted into the entrance
of the fold. She felt the heat of dragon-flames lick at her heels as she pulled
the door shut behind her.
There
in the darkness, among ten or so bleating goats, Alice erupted into hysterical
sobs. Her little frame shook with fear as she listened to the dragon devour the
remaining goats and scorch the green grass above her. She finally drifted into
an uneasy sleep with tear drops still fresh on her cheek.
“Alice,
Alice!”
Alice’s
eyes cracked open – still crusty from dried tears. Several faces swam above
her.
“Alice!
Are you alright?”
The
voice sounded vaguely familiar. It was low and masculine. A large, cool hand
was placed on her forehead. As her vision cleared, Alice saw her father and
several other men from the village staring down at her.
“The
dragon…” she began.
“Alice,
are you hurt?”
Alice slowly sat up. Her face was smudged
with dirt, and the tear tracks shone out stark-white against it. “The goats…”
she couldn’t finish as she erupted into another bout of exhausted hysteria. Her
father quickly scooped her up in his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his
neck. Her tears were spent, but sobs wracked her tiny frame. She shook
uncontrollably as her father carried her out into the open. The other men
stayed below to calm down the terrified herd of goats.
The
sun was just setting, and Alice could see the meadow was blackened, parts of
the ground still smoldered from the dragon’s fire. The dying sun cast a blood-red
light on the bare hills. For hundreds of feet in every direction, the land was
utterly destroyed. Alice’s father told her not to look as he walked by the
charred remains of the unlucky goats. Alice buried her face in his neck and
clung to him all the more as the stench of burning hair and flesh assailed her
nose. Her father took her home where they were met in the entryway by the
joyful tears of Alice’s mother. She sobbed and took Alice from her father’s
arms, holding onto her as though she were drowning.
As
night came, Alice lay against Leif, her fingers twisted in his shaggy fur. Her
face was washed, and her hair was combed. The back of her legs and feet had
been blistered by the dragon’s breath when she had run, and her mother washed the
wounds and put ointment on the blisters before wrapping them in soft linen strips.
Then she made tea for Alice and offered to put her hair in braids like the way
she always wore it. Her father sat on the floor next to the fire with Alice, as
her hair was braided, and read her a story from one of her favorite books.
When
the story was over, everyone was quiet for a time.
Finally,
Alice’s father spoke. “Do you think you can tell us what happened, sweetie?” he
asked.
Alice
stared into her tea miserably as she recounted what happened. She was worried
about Brend. He hadn’t followed her into the fold. She told them about Brend
but left out the magic.
“I
am sure Brend is fine,” said her father smiling. “He probably flew to safety.
Ravens are very smart, you know.”
“But
I ran and now most of the goats are dead,” said Alice in despair.
“I
would rather have all the goats in the world die than you,” said her father,
smoothing down one of Alice’s rumpled eyebrows.
Alice
smiled faintly.
“There,”
said her mother, finishing Alice’s braid and kissing Alice on the cheek. “You
are a proper lady now.”
Alice
got up to look in a mirror. She smiled at the sight. Just like her mother.
The
next day, Alice’s father went to the town and met with the other Council
members. He and Alice’s mother stayed up late talking at the supper table about
the new problem they were all facing. They thought Alice wasn’t listening, but
she was all ears as she sat with Leif by the fire. From what she understood,
the dragon was not finding enough food at night, so it had started coming out
when it usually slept, to hunt – or so everyone guessed. This meant that no one
was safe out of doors at any time.
Alice knew she had to get to Bjorn. But the
thought of facing the dragon again made her sick to her stomach. She worried
about Brend as she lay next to the fire with her arms wrapped around Leif. She
thought about all the people who were being killed – all the livestock that
were being eaten. Unless something was done, the dragon was going to lay waste
the entire town. At some point, it would be too late and everyone would be
dead. Alice did not even know if Bjorn knew what was happening.
Her
eyes watered with bitter tears. Did he even care that everyone was dying? He
stayed in his forest – safe and secure – surround by magic and faeries and
safety… but how long would the dragon spare the trees? Alice chewed her lip as
she thought. It had been a miracle that the forest had been left untouched thus
far. How long would that last? She knew that she had to get to Bjorn. She had
promised to help him. And if she could get to him and tell him what was
happening, she knew that he could not just sit by. The dragon had to be killed.
And it had to be killed soon.
Alice
lay on her mat that night. Her parents had gone to bed and Leif was snoring
contentedly. When she knew it was safe, Alice silently got up. Tucking her
knife in her sash, she left. She knew there was no point in bringing her cloak.
If the dragon was looking for her, he could find her. And she needed to be free
of anything that would tangle her up.
She
sucked warm air into her lungs as she emerged into the night. It was cloudy and
blustery and very dark. With one last look at the safety of her home, she
started running. Alice ran and ran as she had never run before. She reached the
woods in safety and plunged into a darkness so thick she could feel it close
around her like a fog. Eyes peered at her from every direction. Nothing more
than mischievous sprites, but she was careful to stay on the path lest they
lead her astray. She had never been in the forest without Brend. She missed him
terribly and felt the oppression of the trees, all the more, without his
presence.
Alice
snapped her fingers, and a flame appeared from her thumb – hovering above it
like a mist above ground – a trick she had learned recently and she was quite
proud of. The eyes disappeared. She heard several yelps of pain as the light
accosted the sprites. Alice continued running. All at once, she burst into the
glade. Everything was as she had seen it the last time. The faeries were being
as obnoxious as ever, and a gentle smoke was rising from the chimney.
“Bjorn!”
bellowed Alice in the most demanding voice she could. “Bjorn! Where are you?”
Bjorn came out of the house, but he looked very different than he normally did.
His pointed hat was on, he had a grey-black cloak wrapped about him, the hilt
of a sword peeped out from under his mantle, and his staff was in his hand. His
face was grim and set. Alice was relieved to see that her beloved Brend was
perched on Bjorn’s shoulder. Brend gave a happy squawk when he saw her and flew
to her. But before Alice could say anything, Bjorn strode up to her.
“At
last!” he said darkly. “Where were you last night?”
“I…
I got attacked by the dragon,” said Alice, taken aback. “He came out in the
day.”
“That
is no excuse! We had work to do!”
Alice’s
temper boiled. “What?! I almost died.”
Bjorn
scowled. “That is no excuse! Had you been here, we might have had a dead dragon
by now!”
“You
blame me?” said Alice in a rage. “Why can’t you just kill the dragon without
me? Why do I always have to come to you? Why don’t you come to us for once?”
“You are a wizard.” Fumed Bjorn. “Do you have
any idea what that means? That means that you take equal reasonability in the
fate of your townspeople. That is the calling – the charge – the fate of a wizard!”
“But
I couldn’t even hit the dragon with a fireball,” said Alice in dejection.
Bjorn’s
face went blank. “You tried to fight the dragon? Alone?”
Alice
bobbed her head, and she sat down on the ground, dissolving into silent tears.
“Oh…
come, now. Really, there is no reason for tears,” said Bjorn looking sorry for
being so gruff. “I never meant for you to face it alone. You should have run.”
Bjorn looked down at her legs which were still lightly bandaged. “How badly are
you hurt?”
Alice
shrugged, wiping the tears away bravely. “It isn’t as bad now. They are just
red. My heels are blistered.”
Bjorn
told her to wait as he went back to the house, coming out again with a little
black jar. He told her to unwrap the bandages. When she had done so, he
examined her wounds, muttering something about basted, blazing, dragons and
their loathsome fire. He rubbed some of the ointment from the jar on her
blisters, and they slowly shrank away until all that was left were a few red
spots. Alice got up slowly, feeling much better.
“When
do we get the dragon?” she asked trying to sound very brave.
Bjorn
looked down at her grimly. “Tonight,” he said. “We kill him tonight, or die
trying. Now listen carefully to my instructions.”
About
an hour later, shrouded in cloaks that could only be seen by those who knew
what they were looking for, Alice and the wizard, pointed hat pulled low over
his head, moved silently across the grass. Brend flew after them. The moon
seemed to glide in and out behind boiling clouds. Stars twinkled brightly
between them, but all was not well. Alice could feel it.
As
Alice padded quietly after Bjorn, she repeated over and over to herself the
instructions given to her. Bjorn had said timing was key. To miss the moment
meant all would be lost. She kept looking about worriedly, knowing that at any
second the dragon might appear. Finally Bjorn halted, saying this was the best
place to do battle. Out to the left was wide flat nothingness. Green meadow
unencumbered by vegetation of any sort. Out to the right, over a hill, was the
village – dark and abandoned. Several tall oak trees grew at the top of the
hill. One of them was badly burned, but the other two were still untouched by
dragon flame.
Bjorn
threw off his cloak and Alice followed suit. Bjorn said that while fighting
dragons, nothing must hinder movement. He said it was paramount to have quick feet;
otherwise the dragon could make a quick meal of them all. Alice’s muscles were
tense and cold; her heart beat wildly as Bjorn removed his hat and lit a small
fire of green flame with his staff. Alice scurried over to the oak with the
lowest branches and climbed up, sitting almost invisible within the full-leafed
bows. Brend sat in the branch above her silently.
Bjorn
started stoking the fire with his staff. The flames grew and grew until they
were a blaze of green. Bjorn’s face was grim and set in the light. Then with a
swift gesture, Bjorn lifted his staff into the air, and the flame was flung far
into the sky, lighting up the night. The Moon seemed to diminish, and the stars
all but went out at the brightness. Alice thought she could see the shape of a
huge green dragon in the flame for a moment. But she couldn’t watch for long. The
sound of wings approached. The dragon had answered the call.
It
came like a huge black shadow from the mountains. Its yellow eyes the only
light within darkness itself. Its bat wings beat the air with measured speed. The
gems, embedded in the pale underbelly, glinted in the light of Bjorn’s fire. Alice
felt the fear boil inside her again. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead,
but she stayed quiet and forced herself to focus on the task ahead of her.
The
dragon focused in on the wizard. With a rasping growl, it belched out flame –
deep orange – that met Bjorn’s green flame in the air. Bjorn now had his shield
out in front of him for protection. Alice watched from the tree as beads of
sweat gathered on her forehead. She knew that she was to do nothing for the
time being. Until Bjorn gave the signal, she was to remain hidden. If the
dragon knew she was there, it would all come to a sudden end.
The
dragon alighted on the grass which withered away underneath it at the touch.
The dragon circled Bjorn. With his shield out in from of him, Bjorn gathered a
huge green fireball in his hand. For a moment he lifted his shield as he hurled
the fire at the dragon’s face. Alice had never seen Bjorn like this before. All
the old man seemed to have left him. He stood up straight, and he moved nimbly
in and out of the dragon’s line of fire. The fireball cracked upon the nose of
the dragon and sent it jumping back a few paces with a roar of pain. It belched
a stream of badly-aimed fire at the wizard, which shot wide and lit the tree
next to Alice’s tree on fire. Bjorn cast a nervous glace her way, but put his
hand out to tell her to stay put for now.
The
dragon seemed to regard the wizard with a little more caution now and decided
to attack from the sky. Lifting its huge bulk into the air, it flew around and
around as if to decide its best angle. The wind, caught up by the massive wings,
fanned the flame in the burning tree, and it started to blaze. Smoke gathered
and swept across Alice’s sight. She stifled a cough, but she knew that she
could no longer stay in the tree. The very edges of the branches of the tree
she was in started to smolder as flame started to lick at them. With careful
precision, she lowered herself out of the tree. Brend alighted on the ground
next to her.
The
dragon attacked again. To Alice’s horror, Bjorn was consumed by flame. The
whole area in which he stood was alight. But when it cleared, the familiar
sight of Bjorn’s green shield still burned about him. But it was starting to
waver. He was going to need help. Bjorn ran clear of the fire just as his
shield gave out. There was an evil light in the dragon’s eye, and Alice could
swear that it was laughing at the wizard.
A
huge stream of flame was aimed at the wizard who rolled away with a singed
beard. Bjorn hurled another ball of flame at the dragon hitting it in the ear.
Another followed, hitting the huge reptile in the chest. It stuck there for a
while, dripping away like green poison. The dragon screamed in pain and rage.
Bjorn had added a sticky sort of spell in the one, and the fire left a discolored
spot on the dragon’s chest.
From
the end of his staff, Bjorn shot a bolt of lightning at the dragon who met it
halfway with flame, deflecting the bolt. Bjorn looked to Alice, motioning that
it was almost time. The first part of the battle had not been as successful as
they had wanted, and he needed just a few moments for his next strike. The next
spell took more time than mere fireballs, and he didn’t have time to do it
unless the dragon was distracted.
Bjorn
had retreated away from the flames. He firmly planted his staff in the soft
ground with his shield cast into a semicircle around him. The dragon eyed him
from a short distance. It kept scratching it the sore spot on its chest, but it
soon lifted into the air again for another strike at the wizard.
Alice
could feel the heat of the burning oaks. She saw Bjorn give her a nod and she
sent Brend up into the air to fulfill his task. Her throat felt thick and
bitter but she didn’t let the tears come. She was too old for this. It was time
to grow up and save her town. She was not just an ordinary girl. She had a role
to fulfill. A destiny to embrace. A calling upon her life. She had her people
to save.
She
crawled away from the now blistering heat of the burning trees and lay flat on
her stomach. Clouds and smoke were gathering even thicker in the sky, and the
low rumble of thunder echoed across the burning land. Brend was now at the
level of the circling dragon. With a shriek, he dove at the dragon and started
clawing at its eyes and leathery ears. The dragon almost fell out of the sky at
being startled so badly. Alice doubted that the dragon had ever guessed such a
small creature would be so bold, and it made her smile with pride.
The
dragon, however, soon regained its balance and started snapping at the
troublesome bird. But Brend stayed well out of the way of the dragon’s gaping
mouth. The dragon, being too big to be as agile as Brend in the air, alighted
on the ground. Alice saw Bjorn give his second nod and she made her move. But
before she could come out of hiding, a huge hairy shape bolted past her and
flung itself at the dragon’s closest wing. Alice realized with horror that it
was Leif.
Alice
watched as Leif ripped at the dragon’s wing with tooth and claw. The dragon
snarled in pain as Leif’s teeth tore through its wing. Leif was a huge dog, but
was no match for the dragon’s strength. With one swift beat of its wing, the
dragon flipped Leif, still holding on with locked jaws, into the air. Alice
screamed as Leif landed twenty yards away and lay still with a huge piece of
bloody wing still between his teeth.
The
dragon tried to fly, but with a huge gaping hole in its wing, it was thrown so
off balance that it flopped back to the ground, whipping its treelike tale in
agitation. Brend was still flying to and fro clawing at the dragon’s eyes, but
Alice could see that the bird was getting tired. Her head swam, but as she
looked to Bjorn for guidance, he motioned for her to keep on as planned. Alice
thought he looked worried, and she could see that he was exhausted. The spell
was taking longer than expected.
With
one last look at her beloved dog, Alice jumped into action. She ran up to the
wounded dragon and caught ahold of the wing Leif had injured, pulling herself
onto the huge back. She carefully avoided the row of spikes lining its spine
and made her way to its head. Feeling that something was on its back, the
dragon swung its head around to try to see, but Alice carefully stayed out of
its path of vision. Unable to focus on the almost unperceivable weight on its
back, the dragon turned its attention again to the wizard. It flamed at the
wizard’s shield, but was unable to penetrate it. The shield flickered, however,
and Alice knew she needed to hurry.
The
dragon whipped its tale around, knocking Bjorn over. His staff was knocked out
of the ground and the shield faded and disappeared. Bjorn was quick to pick
himself up and reset it, however, as he continued working on his next attack
spell. Meanwhile, Alice slowly worked her way up the dragon’s neck holding on
to the spikes for support, knowing that if she fell she would probably be
impaled.
For
one moment, as Alice crouched on the crown of the beast’s head, she saw her
face reflected in the glassy, yellow orb of the dragon’s eyes as she leaned
over. Recognition of the situation it was in seemed to dawn suddenly on the
dragon. Its eyes grew wide as lightning flashed and Alice raised her knife. But
the recognition was too late. With a yell as loud as Alice could muster, she drove
her dagger into the dragon’s eye, up to the hilt. There was a roar like she had
never heard before, that split the smoky night, as Alice wrenched the knife out
and launched herself off the dragon’s head. She hit the ground and rolled as
pain shot through her legs.
She
turned over and watched as the dragon rolled in the scorched grass clawing at
its eye. Alice saw Bjorn get up from his place on the ground with a huge blue
orb in his hand. It was like fire – but not like it at the same time. It
glistened and shimmered but didn’t flicker as fire did. It looked glossy –
almost wet.
Alice
could not watch Bjorn, though. She remembered the next step of the plan, and
she frantically started to from a fireball in her hand. As it took shape, she let
the dragon’s own blood – the only fatal poison known to dragons – drip from her
knife blade into the fireball. The fire crackled and spluttered but ate up the
red juice greedily. The orb swirled and twisted as the red mixed with the blue,
turning it purple. She ran over to Bjorn. She was just in time to see him hurl
his glossy orb into the dragon’s red snarling mouth. As it hit the back of its
mouth, the orb burst into a waterfall and went cascading down the dragon’s throat.
The
dragon looked at Bjorn with hatred in its one yellow eye as the other oozed
blood. It opened its mouth to blast him with flame, but nothing came out but a
cloud of hot steam. Bjorn grinned in triumph as the dragon attempted it again
with the same result. Alice was too busy to smile as she squashed her ball down
to size. Then with a running start, Alice hurled her fireball into the dragon’s
mouth.
As
the fire went down, the dragon’s eyes bulged. It reared up, and, with a last
effort, flung itself into the air, beating its injured wings frantically. It
flew in several wobbling circles before crashing to the ground several hundred feet
away. It lay there motionless and never moved again. Rain started to fall in
torrents but Alice hardly took notice. She ran to where the still form of Leif
lay.
Falling
upon the ground, Alice lifted his big head onto her little lap, removing the
chunk of dragon wing from his mouth. She smoothed his rumpled fur. Brend
alighted on her shoulder and sat very quietly.
“Leif,”
she whispered. “Leif, please don’t be dead. Please. You were so brave. Please
be okay.” Alice ran her tiny fingers over the Dog’s still body. His neck was broken
as well as several ribs. Her tears started to fall as she kissed his wet nose.
Alice
did not even notice the men and women who had started running toward the scene,
having seen the wizard’s green fire from a distance. They had watched the
battle from the shadow of the hills and, at the sight of the beast falling from
the sky, had come closer to investigate. They did not seem to notice Alice
sitting with bird and dog. The trees hissed and steamed as the rain washed away
the dragon fire. Its huge carcass lay twisted and smoldering. Bjorn stood by
himself to one side with his pointed hat pulled low over his eyes – water
running off the brim and puddling at his feet.
Whispered
exclamations that the dragon was dead started circulating. Soon everyone was
laughing with relief and excitement. Women danced in the rain while the men
bravely went up to the dragon and poked at it with scythes and pitchforks.
“Gems!”
someone exclaimed. “The underside of the dragon is encrusted with them!” The
excitement broke out anew as everyone tried to pry them from the pale underbelly.
“We
can rebuild,” said a man joyfully. He kissed the palm-sized emerald he had
loosed with his knife and put it in his pocket.
Alice
lay down next to the body of Leif and wrapped her arms around him. Brend
nestled down at her head. She shivered in the cold as her soaked clothing clung
to her.
“I
found her!” she heard someone say. “Alice! For goodness sake! What on earth are
you doing out here?” Alice rolled over and looked up into the distraught faces
of her mother and father.
“Leif
is dead,” she murmured.
They
stood her up on her feet.
“What
were you doing out here?” said her father, shaking Alice by the shoulders.
“After
dark! Alice how could you?” said her mother looking scared and hurt. “You are
very lucky Bjorn killed that dragon. What on earth possessed you to leave the
house? Did you come out here alone? Are you hurt? Why were you so foolish?” The
questions poured down on Alice like the heavy rain itself.
“Because!”
said Alice shaking. “Because Bjorn said it was tonight or never! The dragon is
dead. Don’t be mad. And Leif is dead, and I couldn’t save him.” Alice wiped the
stream of rain and tears from her face and shivered. Her mother wrapped her
cloak around Alice and took her hand.
“Come
dear. Leave him for now. Leif was a good dog, I’m sure he was just looking
after you – don’t blame yourself.”
“I
can’t leave him!” wailed Alice, but her mother pulled her away, saying Father
would get him in the morning and bury him properly. Brend hopped mournfully
after Alice.
As
the sky in the east lightened at the oncoming of early morning, the mass of
villagers slowly broke up and wandered back to their homes. Bjorn approached
Alice’s parents and told them everything, explaining that Alice was really a
wizard. He told them how it was really
Alice who had wounded the dragon and delivered the final, fatal blow. He also asked
if he had permission to finish Alice’s training. She had managed to kill the
dragon, but she still had much to learn.
Her
parents were speechless. Alice sat, quietly waiting for the final judgment. At
last her parents spoke. They agreed that Alice’s training should continue. It
was very obvious that they did not like the idea of their young daughter being
a wizard, but they knew that it was a destiny they could not interfere with. It
was not something any of them could choose. Alice was called. And her parents
understood that high calling on wizards to protect and defend the people.
Bjorn
thanked her parents, told them it would be best not to tell the villagers what
Alice’s role really was, and turned to Alice telling her to be at his hut the
next afternoon to continue training. Alice nodded as she held Brend in her lap.
It
was a very silent, somber procession that commenced the funeral of Leif later
that morning. Alice said a few words and kissed Leif’s nose before her father
lowered him into the deep grave he had dug. Alice stayed at the site even after
her parents had hugged her and gone back to the house.
“Ehem,”
The
noise broke Alice out of her revere. It was Barrett. She looked up at him
testily.
“I’m
real sorry about Leif,” he said shuffling his feet.
Alice
thanked him quietly, feeling bad for being irritated.
“Look,
I got something for you,” said Barrett. “I noticed you didn’t get anything from
the dragon plunder.” Barrett pulled out of his pocket a brilliant pale blue gem
the size of a robin’s egg. It glittered in the sun – seeming to gather the
light to itself. Alice took it and held it.
“I
thought you might want it to remember what Leif did.”
Alice
smiled at him and thanked him.
Barrett
turned red and mumbled something about it being no big deal before retreating.
Alice
breathed deeply. The sun was coming out from behind the clouds, and the birds
were singing in the fresh, wet morning air.
“Well,
Brend,” she said patting the raven on the head. “We better go milk the goats.”
Getting
up, Alice tucked the precious blue stone in her pocket. Blowing one last kiss
to Leif, she started out across the blackened countryside. Her heart felt light
despite the blackness though, as the withered grass glistened with dew and
morning sun. Alice passed a wilted violet. With a quick look around to make
sure she was not being watched, she cupped her hands over the tiny flower and
whispered to it. As if in answer, the violet lifted its woebegone face, and its
shriveled leaves uncurled and stretched in the sun, brushing off bits of ash
and soot.
Alice
beamed with pleasure. She did not know how she knew to do that, but something
deep inside her had told her to. Perhaps it was the part of her that knew what
she was. Knew that she was one of the chosen few to continue what her
forefathers, send from the world beyond, had started. To protect and lead and
heal. Be it her people, or little wilted flowers. Alice grinned and took off
running across the fields, laughing merrily as she raced
along while Brend flew after her.