Guardian

“Dragonfire is deadly because you can’t put it out.” The voice carried on the verdant air swirling around her as she stalked her way through the forest, the dense foliage camouflaging movements betrayed only by the gentle gleam of her scales as stray sunbeams filtered through the canopy. She’d been attracted by the sickly sour scent of fear, something she always associated with prey, before she’d heard the sounds of their voices.

“Nonsense, all fires can be put out! If we corner one and have enough Water-Called to use their powers, the fire shouldn’t be a threat. Don’t you see? One by one, we could eradicate them once and for all.”

“You don’t understand, it’s not just fire. There’s something dragons spit out, like venom, that they set ablaze. When that substance gets on you, there’s no putting it out. It will keep burning until it’s burned through whatever it’s touched.”

Their constant talking helped to cover her approach as she slinked closer. Their words meant nothing to her, were distinguishable only as the sounds made by humans. She stopped at a thick copse of trees and peered through the leaves. There were two men, both with the shiny swords humans usually waved about as they tried to fend her off. Not that they ever did them any good. Strangely, the thick scent of fear seemed to be coming mostly from the large, rough bag one had looped over his shoulder.

Curious.

She moved to follow them, the gentle rustle of the branches around her causing the men to stop and look around sharply.

“That’s far enough,” one said, the quaver in his voice a lilting music to her ears. The other nodded and removed the bag from his shoulder, softly placing it on the ground.

She readied to attack, but the man started undoing the tie holding the bag closed and she was interested in what could be giving off such a thick odor of fear.

The rough cloth fell away, revealing a small child. His arms and feet were bound and his eyes were wide and bright with tears above the gag in his mouth.

“I don’t like this,” said the man kneeling on the ground. “He’s just a child, barely more than a babe! Why in the blazes would we need to do this?”

“You know why, it’s that blasted seer. I don’t think he’s ever sober, but the king believes his newest prophecy and won’t hear otherwise.”

The kneeling man shook his head. “How is a child supposed to dethrone a king?” After a moment, he continued, “We could bring him to the next village rather than leaving him here. No one would know.”

“They’d know, and then it would mean our heads and the heads of our families. Besides, we’re supposed to come back tomorrow to ‘find’ the body. Or what’s left of it, at least. We can’t do that if we save the kid.”

“We could–”

“Stop!” The standing man took a deep breath. “I like this as little as you do, but right now it’s him or us. Anyone else would do the same.”

The kneeling man stood up. “No one would do the same! That’s why we had to sneak him out of the village in a sack, because if anyone found out we were bringing a small child into the forest to die by the King’s command, they’d rise up and riot. And honestly, it’s about time they did!”

The other man took a step forward, removing his sword from its sheath. “Don’t you dare say things like that! It’s our duty to follow the King’s orders.”

“The King is a lunatic! He’s been talking nonsense for years now. The only reason the kingdom hasn’t collapsed is because the Captain covers for the King’s madness. We’d all be better off if the King died.”

“Treason!”

She’d had enough of the rising voices. She began to emerge from her hiding spot, the men not noticing her as they continued to fight. She pushed her head free of the treeline, ready to lunge forward at the opportune moment.

From this vantage, she could clearly see the child. Unlike the men, he’d noticed her. His eyes were wide with panic but he remained still, either frozen with fear or not comprehending. Still, there was something in his eyes that stalled her approach. His fear was a palpable thing that lapped at the corners of her mind and she felt an answering call to protect the small human.

HELP.

She jerked back slightly. What was that?

HELP, PLEASE.

She stared at the child in surprise. She’d understood him. How, she didn’t know, but he was asking her for help. He was small, so much smaller than she, and for some reason she felt the same call to protect him that she did with her own young. She locked eyes with him and agreed, I will help you.

At that moment, the men finally realized that death was breathing down their necks. With a yell, they jumped away from her and the child, swords unsheathed.

They had meant to harm the child, to leave him out here unprotected to wait for death. Her lips pulled back from her teeth and she let out a rattling growl. She couldn’t spray fire without risking the child’s safety, but she didn’t need fire for these two–teeth and claws would work just fine.

The men’s faces turned white and they whirled around, running through the forest to escape to safety, any thoughts of helping the child lost in their own self-preservation. Cowards.

She took two giant steps after them, determined to end their lives for trying to harm the boy, but his thoughts stopped her. NO, DON’T LEAVE ME!

She stopped and looked down at the child. He was small, barely larger than her front paw, and he trembled like a leaf.

She sighed. He was right, she couldn’t protect him if she left him. I’ll stay, I’ll protect you.

The boy nodded, then held up his hands, still tied together. She lifted a large paw and he didn’t flinch as she extended a long claw toward him, just waited patiently as she sliced through the rope that bound his hands, then the ones on his feet. She did the same to the gag in his mouth, but as much as she tried to be gentle, her claw caught the delicate skin of his face and sliced as it cut through the rag. The boy let out a cry as a deep line of crimson opened up on his cheek.

She panicked. What should she do? She knew nothing of the care of young humans, knew only how to care for her own offspring. But their scales were more delicate when they were younger, too.

She leaned her head down until her face was inches from the boys. Carefully, she mixed her saliva with venom, far less even than she’d use on her own young, and applied a small spark. Then she traced the cut with her flaming tongue. The boy gave a startled gasp and seemed to stop breathing. When she pulled away, she saw that the cut had closed, replaced with a line of pink. It would do.

She raised up to her full height. Come, young one.

He stared at her in confusion, then lifted his arms. UP.

Up? He wanted her to carry him? But she studied him for a second, taking in his small frame and legs. He would never be able to walk through the forest on his own. Sighing once more, she reached down and scooped him into one giant paw. He hugged one clawed digit and curled up. She pulled him up to her chest and looked down. He gazed at her with complete trust, then seemed to succumb to the stress of the day as his eyes flitted shut.

Such a tiny creature. What would she do with him? She’d figure it out.

She turned and made her way deeper into the forest. She would find a way to feed him and keep him safe, would raise him with her own young. She would teach him to hunt, to hide, to fight. And when he was old enough, she would teach him how dragons get revenge.