copyright J.Neal 99
Many years ago, in a far off valley in Russia, there lived a dragon. The people of the valley's village feared the dragon and faithfully offered a virgin each harvest, to sate the beast's bloodlust. They told stories of how the dragon tore at its helpless prey with razor talons and drank the virgin's blood to maintain its immortality. Each year, the young, innocent, sacrificial maiden would resist, but the villagers, blinded by fear, would say, "It's a small price to pay. The beast mustn't be angered." Of course, the villagers were ignorant in the way of the dragons and the dragon preferred it that way. She was rather annoyed by humankind.
Thus, the dragon lived undisturbed and content in her domain. She watched the years go by from a large cave overlooking the valley, comforted only by nature's bounty. As the valley's guardian, she understood the valley's mysteries and vulnerabilities and guarded the valley from demons and raids. Sometimes when bouts of loneliness would haunt her, she amused herself with the gossip of the trees. Other times, the wolves would come to update her on events beyond the valley and for a few fleeting moments, she would yearn to explore beyond the valley. Fortunately for the villagers, she remained their ever-faithful and falsely savage guardian.
The dragon often spied on the villagers, but found the task boring and unproductive. She regarded most humans, with their low intellect, as slaves to their emotions and did not understand their fears. She avoided them and never talked to any human, except the virgins, with whom it was necessary. She only involved herself in their affairs if it involved the safety of the valley.
One day, while returning from her bath in the stream, she heard a peculiar shuffling from within her cave. Angered by such a trespass, she slunk silently into the cave. Because her vertical pupils quickly adjusted to the low levels of light, she could easily snatch the intruder before he countered.
Although she searched the cave intently, her ears sensing the soft soles of expensive leather, she found no visual sign of the intruder. She was baffled by this and sat in the middle of her hall, sniffing the air delicately. She smelt the clean cotton and silk damask of rich clothes, covering a distinctly masculine scent. She sensed a human male, yet she still could not see him. She realized that he must know the spell of invisibility, for the air was definitely tainted with a faint odor of sulfur.
She turned to the direction she sensed him to be at and stared into the thin air. "Who are you, to dare and disturb my hall. Such a learned man must know the proper customs when approaching a dragon?" Displeasure lined her voice, for no man had ventured so deep into her lair before.
The air quivered and a handsome young man materialized before her. He was a foreigner, his dark hair and olive skin a sharp contrast to the ruddy-faced villagers. He wore elegant fabrics draped over silk trousers and soft, leather knee-high boots. A royal blue, velvet cloak shimmered behind him and was clasped at his throat with silver. He stared boldly back at her, his brown eyes gleaming with wisdom and courage, and smiled, showing a generous, kindly mouth. He bowed low, never taking his eyes from her.
"Forgive me, my lady," he crooned. His speech was fringed with a strange accent, yet he spoke in the courtly language that all dragons learned at birth. She was pleased with his use of the ancient language and decided to allow him to leave without punishment. There was something about him that interested her and her curiosity increased when she noticed the emblem of a silver lyre on his cloak.
"What do you want from me, Senior Bard. My treasure?" she spoke, rather softly, baiting him. She saw a hint of amusement flicker behind his eyes and found herself liking him, despite her disgust in humans.
"Why, my lady, we both know that dragons do not hoard treasure. That is a foolish myth of glory-hounds."
She nodded, indicating her agreement. He had passed her test.
"What then? Will you not state your purpose and be gone?" she huffed.
"I have no wish to leave, my lady," he replied firmly. A tendril of smoke escaped her nostrils and noticing this, he continued quickly. "My name is Khadag. I am from the lands of a Turkish prince, where your brother, Magmys, and his mate reside."
She inhaled sharply, as he had revealed her brother's true name. Dragons abided by a strict code to never reveal their true names to humans. Too many humans in the past had summoned a dragon to do ruthless deeds, with the dragon powerless to resist, enslaved by its own name. As she wondered if this young man would attempt to do the same with her brother, anger rose within her.
Khadag immediately rescued himself and pleaded, "Please, my
lady, your brother gave me the use of his true name freely. I denied his request, but he would have it no other way. You see, I, quite by chance, saved your brother's life. When he asked what I wished in return, I wanted nothing and he persuaded me otherwise. I gave him my word that I would summon him only under dire circumstances."
Surprise cooled her fire and she regarded him with intrigue. She wondered how he could have saved her brother's life. Perhaps, she would let him stay to tell her the tale, after she determined his business here. "You still evade my question. Why are you here?" she demanded.
Khadag nodded and took a deep breath, apparently not eager to anger her. "Your brother asked me to come here. He hoped that I might provide you with some pleasant entertainment before I resume my travels. He knows that you have never left the valley or listened to a bard."
With Khadag's lengthy exhale, she saw his worry that she would refuse him and she calmed him. "I gather you wish to fulfill my brother's request, seeing as you gave your word?"
His reply was elegant and well-chosen. "If it would please you, my lady, I wish to sing for you."
She was impressed with him and amused by her brother's request of him. "Very well, Khadag. Bring a cushion and set yourself down."
Khadag responded with a brilliant smile. He settled down facing her and she lit a tiny lantern with her breath. She curled up beside him, convinced that Khadag would not risk angering her. Although she had never heard a bard sing, she loved music and was eager to listen to him.
Khadag brought out his lyre, a finely crafted instrument with exquisite designs etched into the wood. She admired its beauty, but it could not compare to the beauty of Khadag's face as he touched the lyre. She wondered if the instrument was connected to him through magic.
He looked up to her, his face bright. "What shall I sing for you, my lady?"
"Sing of the adventure you shared with my brother. Tell me of the lands he and his mate live in. Tell me how you came to know his true name."
He gave her a brief smile and gracefully plucked a chord from the lyre, with long, elegant fingers. The notes rang through the cave, their sweetness
echoing through the hall. He mastered another chord and joined his voice in the harmony. She sighed inwardly. His voice was soft and clear, reminding her of the mountain stream she bathed in. As he sang one verse, then another, she realized she paid no attention to the words. She only heard the purity of his voice. Like waves on a calm shore, his voice held her, rocking her gently back and forth.
When he finished, she started, as though she'd been rudely awakened from a dream. The cave was now dark, lit only by the dim glow of the lantern. Her ears still rang with the echoes of his song.
Khadag whispered, "My lady? Did my song please you?"
She gazed at him and blinked in surprise, for she was sure that he glowed slightly. "Yes, Khadag. Your voice is truly beautiful."
Khadag smiled proudly, for a dragon's compliment was not given lightly. "Then, I will sing again," he offered, his fingers eager to touch the strings.
"No, Khadag. It is time to rest. You may sleep inside, for there are wild creatures out prowling tonight who do not know you are my guest."
Khadag was disappointed, but brightened at her invitation. "You are gracious, my lady."
She smiled, a rare gesture, and he was taken aback. "There are more cushions and a blanket for you. Sleep well, silver-tongued one. I will tell you tomorrow, if I wish you to sing again for me."
Khadag bowed deeply and without another word, he settled down in a corner, tucking his harp and cloak neatly beside him. She watched him with interest, curious at his meek acceptance. He was wise and perhaps, he wasn't as young as he seemed. She rested her head on her tail, and closed her eyes, still hearing his rich tenor in her ears. For some odd reason, she believed he wouldn't betray her hospitality and she slipped into a deep slumber.
Because of his song, she slept deeply and did not hear him open his eyes to watch her. He stared at her for a long time, absorbing every inch of her gleaming body with appreciative eyes. As she slept, she did not see the wonder in his eyes, nor did she hear the admiration in his voice when he whispered, "You are more lovely than your brother described, winged one."
* * * * *
The next morning came swiftly and she awoke refreshed. She left the cave to bathe in the mountain stream, and when washed, she returned to the cave with a tub of water clasped in her hands. She found Khadag awake and sitting on the cave's ledge.
"Good morning, my lady," he smiled.
She nodded. "Good morning, Khadag. I have brought you water to bathe in. Inside the cave, you will find some lavender soap and towels to dry with. I'm afraid I cannot offer you clean clothes. Humans do not usually visit me." She took the tub inside and rested it at the cave's entrance, where he'd have privacy.
"You are too kind, my lady. I could have easily gone to a stream," he insisted.
"It was no trouble," she replied and went back to the ledge. "I will find us some breakfast, while you bathe." She flew off before he had a chance to reply.
She returned later, with berries and fresh bread, and found Khadag waiting patiently. He took the berries and the bread from her and placed them on a small table inside, while she emptied the tub. She brought out a bottle of homemade, flavored spring water and poured the contents into two large crystal goblets. She placed these on the table and they sat for breakfast.
She had no chairs and the goblets were dragon-sized, but this did not phase Khadag, an obviously well-mannered guest. They broke the bread and munched on berries. Khadag carefully sipped from his large goblet.
"Amazing," he delighted, "This water has just the right hint of mint and strawberry. Delicious!"
"Thank you. I collected the water, mint, and strawberry from here in the valley."
Khadag's dark eyebrows raised in surprise, "Then, it is true what your brother said? You don't leave the valley? Then where did the lavender soap and goblets come from?" He paused, embarrassed by his rude outburst, "Excuse me. I forgot my manners."
"That's quite all right, Khadag. You may ask whatever questions you wish as a guest. I will choose which to answer." He raised his gaze and she continued, "The soap and goblets were gifts from my brother a long time ago. He sent them with an eagle, an old friend that, from time to time, rests in my valley. They are my only treasures. What I need I take from the valley and in return, I keep the valley safe."
Khadag nodded once more in understanding. "Why do humans never visit you?"
She stared at him intently. "That, I'm afraid, is a question I will not answer.
I do wish to ask something of you, though."
He was curious at her avoidance of humans, but made no further inquiry. "Please do, my lady," he responded.
"When you leave, will you promise not to speak of me?" she asked. Her eyes held him fast.
"As you wish," he complied, matching her intense gaze. He did not tell her that he had no intentions of leaving.
She broke the gaze and stared at her goblet. "I have decided to let you stay another night, Khadag. I wish to hear another song."
Khadag was pleased by her request. "I would be honored, my lady."
The day passed quickly, as she toured him around the valley. When the sun waned and they retreated to the cave, Khadag again asked the question, "What shall I sing for you, my lady?"
This time she asked him to sing a ballad from his homeland. In his native tongue, he lulled her with a love song and wrapped his voice around her, comforting her with its rapturous melody. She smiled dreamily and when she did not wake at the end of his song, he smiled lovingly at her, before retreating into his corner for a blissful sleep.
Thus, the game continued for a year. Every morning, she would ask him to stay one more day and every night, he would sing her to sleep. During the days, they maintained pleasant and intelligent conversation. Khadag often told her of the world beyond the valley and she was content to enjoy his company. She did not quite trust him, for he was a human, and nor did she know that he watched her every night, his eyes filled with love.
At the end of the year, she felt troubled to have kept him so long and one day after her ritual morning bath, she asked him to sit beside her.
He noticed her grave mood and was concerned. "What ails you, my lady? Does my voice no longer soothe you?"
She shook her head sadly. "Of course not, gentle Khadag. Your voice is as pure as the first day you sang for me."
"Then, do I bore you or displease you in some way?"
"Never!" she spoke swiftly, "I cannot imprison you like this. You are done with your promise to my brother. I release you. You are free to leave a man of
honor. Although I have not the gold to pay you for your services, I can offer you one thing of value. My name is Persus."
Khadag's jaw dropped. For a moment, he was speechless and overcome with emotion, but he quickly recovered. He smiled lovingly upon her and placed his hand on her larger, taloned one. "I have no need of your name, for I have no desire to leave you. I love you, my lady, and intend to stay by your side."
"But we are different," she insisted.
"Perhaps, outwardly so, but inwardly, I believe we are the same."
She sighed, "Then, I suppose, I can no longer hide my feelings. I have loved you from your first song. I thought it was a spell. Perhaps, it is?"
He laughed softly, "Not of my making, dear heart."
She joined his laughter. "I guess my brother's wish came true. For this is what he wanted, wasn't it?"
"I'm beginning to think so," he replied.
"Then, I must tell you why I separate myself from the villagers here."
He nodded, encouraging her to continue, now seriously intent. She went on. "The villagers believe that I will destroy them if they do not appease me. They offer a virgin every year and I pretend to eat the frightened creature. In reality, I take the girls out of the valley on their promise not to return. I let them believe in their superstitions, so that I may have peace."
"A rather beneficial relationship," Khadag commented, his handsome face pensive, "They get safety, the girls get adventure, and you get peace. I can live with that."
She smiled at him, their commitment sealed, and thus, it remained for many years, until the young bard began to age. Because dragons lived hundreds of years, it upset her to see her love become so frail. She constantly worried about him, always close behind him. Though theirs was a bond not bound by limitations, she hated to lose him so quickly to old age.
Khadag saw the worry in his love's eyes. One day, he sat her down beside him. "My dearest love, I know you hate to see me so weak. It seems I am disadvantaged and I can't bear to trouble you."
"Sweet Khadag, it is no trouble for a heart filled with love," she replied softly.
"Nevertheless, I must leave this body," he whispered.
Her eyes filled with tears, dragons rarely cry, and her sobs were racked with emotion. He reached up with his now feeble fingers and gathered her tears into his palm. Then, he brought his palm before him and his mouth moved silently, in some strange chant.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Something I learnt from a sorcerer," he responded, smiling mischievously.
Her eyebrows raised and a sudden blue mist enveloped him. She stared hard and the mist dissipated, leaving no trace of Khadag. Instead, a sterling silver harp, six feet tall, stood in his place.
"Khadag?" she cried, troubled, "Where are you?"
No answer came.
She sobbed, "Oh, my love. What have you done?"
A strange chord came from the harp and she sprang back, shocked. After calming herself, she moved closer to the harp. "What magic is this?" she wondered. The harp made no further noise, but as she stroked its length, it seemed to quiver under her touch. She smiled, realizing what Khadag had done.
"Sing for me, my love. Tell me about the sorcerer," she spoke to the harp.
In response to her words, the harp came alive. Chords flowed from the magical harp, as though invisible bard fingers plucked its strings. She sighed and curled around it, her despair eased by her lover's song. In moments, she was asleep.
* * * * *
It was rumored that the harp's song could be heard across the valley and tales of its magic spread. Many treasure seekers came from far to steal the harp and possess its magic, but all died, for the harp was guarded by a dragon with relentless ferocity. Perhaps after all, she did hoard her treasure.
