Eddie's Tale

A scruffy, dirty looking young man wearing nothing but a burlap sack sat on a stump by a fire. All around him the forest creatures leaned in.

“My name is King Edward, and I shall tell you the very first of my many tales.”

The fox wasn’t convinced, but the rabbits noted the large ruby signet ring on the beggar’s finger and persuaded the squirrels to at least give him a chance. The bear agreed that it would be a fine story at least, and so after a half minute of grumbling they let Edward continue.

“I shall of course tell the story from the perspective of my good friend Drax as a King must be humble when telling his own story. It began with a task on this very night twenty-five years ago.”

#

Just one human. It will be easy, they said. Of course, Drax had decided to snatch the smallest one he could find. That had been his first mistake. His second mistake was to assume the town wouldn’t care about him due to the little man’s diminutive stature. Now Drax sat and licked his bloodied wings and wished he had taken the rotund butcher rather than this squealing, energetic demon.

“Be a mercenary.” His mother had said. “You’ll make me proud.” She had said.

“Make you rich. That’s all a hundredth son is good for.” Drax consoled himself with the fact that many of his younger brothers were dung scrapers. You wouldn’t believe how much dung there is in a dragonish city.

Just then the tiny man decided to squat right on Drax’ foreleg.

“Noo!” Drax boomed, releasing a little puff of fire as the child soiled his glistening black scales.

The child tumbled to the ground, laughing as Drax spun in circles, tearing up the whole hillside as he tried to rub the vile substance free from between his scales.

“Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!” Drax bellowed, finally turning his head to send a jet of flame cascading over the sullied foreleg, bathing it in flame until the leavings were incinerated.

The child began to mimic Drax, running around in the mud and flinging it at Drax while yelling. “Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!”

Drax nearly burned the boy to a crisp then and there. He had done far worse as a mercenary, but there was something special about this task. The promise of gold didn’t bind him, though it was at times a helpful motivator.

“Drax grumpy. Drax needs to sleep.” The boy said, noticing the dragon’s deadly glare.

“Dragons don’t sleep. They eat little boys like you.” Drax said with a wicked smile.

The child seemed to know that Drax needed him alive. The intimidation tactic that had worked on so many soldiers and generals fell flat before this tiny human.

“Drax hungry. I’m hungry I get grumpy too.” The boy said, rubbing his tiny stomach.

Drax felt his stomach rumble. He hadn’t had time to hunt the last two days and doubted he could catch anything given his tattered wings. Did every town have six ballistae these days? The boy began to tickle his scales which was surprisingly effective on the hard surface. Then the child touched one of the bloody holes and Drax rounded on him, roaring at the boy with a gust of rotten breath that knocked him flat on his back.

The boy’s mood seemed to shift, and he let out a few sobs before sitting up again, staring at Drax as though deep in thought.

“Drax sad. Drax has no friends.”

“I’ve got more friends than you, tiny human. You’re all alone out here, and I’m taking you to a dark and terrible place.”

“Where are Drax friends? My friend right here. My friend Drax.” The boy said, hugging his thick leg.

Did the boy really think of him as a friend? Fool. He was taking the boy to his doom. And yet something about the boy’s words unsettled Drax. He could reach any dragon in the world with his mind, but he never did, and they never spoke to him either. Some dragons considered gold to be their friends, but not Drax. Drax knew the gold didn’t speak. He loved it, but it was dead, not something he could really spend his life on. A memory crossed his mind. A young red dragon, her scales a thousand rubies aflame in the sunlight.

“Fine. I don’t have any friends. Dragons don’t need friends.”

“Mum says everyone needs friends.”

“Your mum left you in the forest to die! What does she know.”

Now the boy really did start to cry. The townsfolk had seen him fall. They were slower than he was, but they would hear this racket and it wouldn’t be long before a hundred spears and javelins poked at his injured wings again. Drax picked him up and leaped from the hilltop gliding towards a clearing in the hopes that the height and motion would still the child.

“Drax lies! Drax lies! Drax not my friend! Drax not my friend!” The boy shouted, his screams so loud they burned Drax’ ears nearly as much as the air against his open wounds.

Drax alighted in the clearing with burning wings and a throbbing head. The child was in hysterics, rolling and thrashing about. His screams seemed louder than the entire village when he had set it alight.

“I didn’t mean it.” Drax said, desperately trying to calm the child. “Your mother is a fine woman. Surely, she intended to return with a weapon and fight me off, or perhaps draw me away before I could snatch you.”

“I hate you!” the boy began repeating over and over again each time impossibly louder than the last.

“Fine. Drax has one friend. Tiny human boy is my friend. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The boy stilled to a quiet.

“My name.” The boy demanded.

Drax scrambled, trying to remember what he had drowned out countless times on their first flight away from the village. The pause was too long, the boy crossed his arms and glared at him.

“Friends know names. My name.” He demanded, angrily.

“Chris. Christopher is your name.” Drax said, wincing.

The boy stood and stomped his foot.

“Eddie.”

Eddie either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the overt disgust Drax showed as he extended a claw for the boy to shake.

“Nice to meet you… Eddie.”

“Now Drax real friend.” The boy slurred, a smile growing on his face.

“Drax say sorry. Drax take Eddie fishing.”

“We’re not going -- ” A smile crept up Drax’s jawline as a plan began to form.

“Why do you think my people sent me Eddie? Do you think Dragons can fish? We’ve got big stubby claws and our scales crack from the heat shift if we go in the water. I was tasked by Prometheus, king of the dragon rift to find the best human fisher in the land. There is a mighty pool in the palace of Prometheus with many strange fish. Prometheus must always have fresh fish. The old fisher died – er went on vacation.”

Eddie’s face was firm.

“Fishing. Now!”

“Of course, master fisher.” Drax cooed, scooping Eddie up under a foreleg and taking off, wincing at the pain.

They soared over the greenwood until the black sand beach appeared and they were soaring over the coast. Drax was careful to avoid the crater, its black center sinking to unfathomable depths and staring up at them like a terrible eye.

“Fishing hole. Good spot!” Eddie said, pointing to the crater.

Drax shuddered as a shadow moved in the blackness.

“Have you never heard boy. A terrible creature lives in those depths. Bruce is his name.”

“Mum and dad say Ctein.”

“Quit mixing mythologies boy. It’s Bruce. Always was Bruce, always will be Bruce.” Drax huffed, letting out a puff of smoke. “Unoriginal name stealing human scum.”

“Maybe Bruce needs friends too?” Eddie asked curiously.

“Don’t push your luck master fisher.”

Across the bay rose a large plateau which glowed softly from a great crack that split it in two. Drax felt more than a little guilt at what he was about to do. Prometheus hated humans and he was not kind even to hatchlings of his own race. Drax had grown to like the little human. Still, the thought of those gemmy scales glistening like a crimson waterfall over Spinella - the daughter of Prometheus was enough to keep the feeling down in his fire belly.

“Time to claim my prize.”

Drax spun and dove towards the rift, burning wings forgotten at the thought of the thing he had waited so long for. But the rift did not welcome him. There was no din of brawling dragons, no trading of hoard treasures or masons melting the very rock to their desire. Only silence in the dragon rift. Had it changed so much since he had been at home? It hadn’t been that long, had it? Drax stopped for a moment. It had. It had been two centuries since he had come to the dragon rift. He listened with his mind and heard an echo of what he expected. With his eyes closed he envisioned the sound of a hundred dragons clattering through the rift. It was a lie. Someone, or something was projecting these thoughts. It would take a mighty mind, or a group of minds to produce such a farce. Enough to fool a dragon as old as Drax. Not even Prometheus could have done it.

“No fish here Drax. Back to the good spot.”

Drax ignored Eddie and began to climb the obsidian steps that led to the Promethean palace.

Drax paused. Everyone was gone. Would Spinella even be here. Suddenly that terrible feeling he had suppressed down in his fire belly returned, releasing a jet of flame that caused the dusty steps to shimmer and gleam.

“Friend Eddie?” Drax asked hesitantly, ascending the last few steps and peering into the cavernous palace.

“Friend Drax.” Eddie responded, grinning ear to ear.

“Does this seem like a good fishing spot?”

At the center of the palace lay a great black pool which sunk deep into the mountain.

“Good spot, bad light. Bruce pool. Back to Bruce pool.”

Drax sniffed cautiously and began to back away, slithering down the stairs like a frightened pup. Then he froze. A terrible voice gripping his mind.

“Who dares speak my name. Let me have a closer look at you.”

An enormous tentacle shot from the pool, wrapping itself around Drax’ tail and hauling him into the palace.

“Tell me Drax. Why have you come to this place?” the voice boomed audibly from the pool.

“We’re going fishing!” Eddie shouted from his perch under Drax’ foreleg.

Drax closed his eyes. Fool boy. This had to be the worst possible response to the giant sea creature. Had the beast lured him here? For sport? For food?

Bruce laughed, such a great and terrible laugh that it shook the palace, the ceiling cracking and showering them with dust.

“Fishing? Fishing! Do you mean to catch me with a rod and lure my tiny friend? Why Drax. Why did you bring me such a tiny human? Was this all you could manage? Drax the great mercenary. The last of dragonkind and this is what you bring!”

Bruce began to laugh again, a terrible mocking laugh that caused fist sized chunks of the ceiling to come down where the cracks had grown. Eddie used the distraction to slip out of Drax’ arm and land on the tentacle that bound them.

“He’s not your friend. You called him your friend, but you don’t even know his name. This is Eddie and – What are you doing Eddie!”

Eddie stood atop the tentacle, waving his tiny arms across the creature’s scaly skin and under it’s suction cups. Eddie was tickling the beats. Bruce flicked his tentacle in annoyance and released his greatest laugh yet, shattering the ceiling which collapsed into the pool with a great whoomph. Drax spun like a leaf caught in a hurricane, desperately spinning to catch Eddie before he hit the ground. Drax missed the catch but spun on his back and reached with the other arm just before hitting the stairs. Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud. Drax thought his brain would rattle right out of his skull as he skidded down the thousand steps of the palace, slowly grinding to a halt in a heap of rubble and dragon blood. All he could see was red. He didn’t remember blood being this beautiful. The red seemed to glow and dance like scales that filled his vision. A voice called to him, angelic and dragonish.

“You’ve saved us! By the blood of my father, you’ve saved us! All hail the mighty Bruce slayer!”

Drax could hardly think. Perhaps the afterlife had rewarded him for protecting Eddie, or maybe it was a delusion of his damaged mind. Whatever it was he was grateful. Grateful to hear Spinella’s voice one last time.

“You’re welcome.” Drax mumbled to the sky.

“I was talking about the boy, the hero. Not you.” Spinella snapped.

“Mighty Bruce slayer. Savior of the dragonish people. Tell us of your quest to save dragonkind.”

“Fishing. Drax took me fishing.” Eddie said with a smile.

Behind Spinella several other dragons poked their heads sheepishly out from nooks and crannies in the rift. They regarded Eddie with a strange reverence that Eddie didn’t care for.

“We fished. Fish fished us. Tickled the fish. We fished. Drax picked good. I’m Eddie. I’m master fisher.”

Drax groaned. It wasn’t the introduction he had hoped for, but despite his wounds he smiled for the first time in a long time. Spinella lifted the boy up and placed him on her back, glaring down at Drax.

“What shall we do with this ruffian who would have sacrificed you to that terrible beast? Shall we tear him apart my friend? Or throw him in the sea?”

Drax moaned weakly.

“You’re not his friend. You don’t know his name.”

Eddie smiled and began to bounce excitedly on Spinella’s back.

“He’s right. What’s my name.”

“This wretch was going to kill you!”

“That’s Drax. My friend Drax. Drax has one friend. His friend Eddie. That’s me. Master fisher.”

The other dragons cheered at the words “master fisher” with such vigor that Spinella didn’t dare press Drax any further.

“Eddie dragonfriend. We dragons owe you an unpayable debt. We give you this gift and name you Eddie King of the dragon rift. May your family always watch over us and protect us from the creatures of the deep.”

Spinella handed over a small glowing object which Eddie stared at, mesmerized.

#

“And that’s how I became Edward king of the dragon rift before my fourth birthday. After that Drax, Spinella and I went on to conquer the other dragon kingdoms. There was Draconis, and the Dragon Mountain, and then there was --”

“Okay, okay. I’ve heard enough.” Said the fox. “That’s the tallest tale I’ve heard since barley bunny told about a magic portal in his burrow, which was really just turned out to be the outhouse.”

The other creatures all nodded in agreement, and Edward left the circle quietly, unnoticed as the creatures all began to pick holes in the story.

“No mother would abandon a young boy in the forest like that.” One chimed.

“Yeah, and I’ve never heard of a Bruce or whatever he called it.” Said the squirrel.

He chuckled to himself, tossing a glowing gemstone to himself, mesmerized at the shadows and rays it cast through the forest.