Here Lie Baby Dragons

A bump in the road was enough to wake Pip up. He wasn’t usually a light sleeper, but the City of Dragons filled his dreams and wouldn’t let him rest. The night before, he had booked passage on a merchant’s wagon with his last few coppers. He was reminded of this every time he tucked his hands into his empty pockets for warmth. But the warmth was hard to come by. His clothes were tattered, and they let in the cold wind. This made him long for the fireplace back home, but he couldn’t turn back now. He left that life for a better one. As the sun rose, it warmed him, and his face came alive even though it was caked in dirt. It was going to be okay.

He wasn’t alone on the wagon. The other passengers were just as dirty and poor, but they stayed asleep even as the city approached. Pip didn’t understand their behavior, but he didn’t have time to think about it; the city was sure to peek over the horizon any moment.

As he waited, the wagon came to a bumpy cobblestone patch of road, and a man sleeping among a couple of empty bottles stirred.

"We there yet?" the drunkard grumbled, wiping drool from his mouth with a hand still clutched around yesterday’s bottle.

"Not yet, but soon," Pip said, rubbing his arms out of excitement and a need for warmth.

"What makes you so giddy?"

"I’ve always wanted to go to the city, to live among the dragons. I’ve heard you can be anyone here. I think I would make a good merchant. No, a blacksmith that forges blades out of dragon’s fire. That’s special..."

The drunkard erupted in laughter, gripping his chest until another jolt in the wagon knocked him on his side. He fell back asleep almost instantly, continuing to giggle occasionally. Pip ignored these theatrics; he was after something more important than a drunk’s approval.

When the city first appeared over the horizon, it did so with towers reaching into the sky. Pip jumped from the floor.

"The dragon flight towers! I’ve read they were in the clouds, but to see it..." he exclaimed and then turned side to side looking for someone to share this with, but everyone stayed asleep and a woman even rolled over, turning her back toward him. Pip didn’t notice her; he was already looking back at the skies, searching. The towers were supposed to be swarming with dragons, but he didn’t see one. Maybe they are still sleeping too, he thought. Then the wagon took a sudden turn and he fell back onto the floor.

"Careful," the merchant yelled from the front of the wagon. "If you fall off I’m not stopping."

Pip stayed down, but he occasionally caught himself rising up, trying to glimpse just a little more of the city than the horizon permitted.

"Kinda dull if you ask me," the drunkard was up and grumbling again.

"You must be kidding, look at the walls—the way they glow in the sun."

"You must be from one of those little farming villages?" Pip was embarrassed. He didn’t say anything, and the drunkard got bored and laid down. "Looks just like any other dingy city."

"No way," Pip mumbled under his breath. The drunkard didn’t hear him. They didn’t talk the rest of the trip; they each decided the other was a fool.

About a mile away from the shining walls, the merchant’s wagon stopped. Vendors were lined up with their carts from here to the city gates. Pip’s eyes widened. As he looked upon the busy street, he thought it must be the largest marketplace in all the world.

"Alright, this is as far as business takes me. All of you out," the merchant yelled.

Pip was the first off, but the last one to go anywhere. He stood still with eyes darting all over the market as the other passengers moved around him, mumbling harsh words because he blocked their way. When it was the drunkard’s turn, he leaned into Pip and bumped him hard. Pip didn’t respond; he didn’t notice. He just kept thinking this is where my new life begins.

After a few more moments of quiet amazement, the noises of the city street brought him back to the present. Instead of looking at everything at once, he began to focus in, and a sparkling light caught his attention. He moved toward it almost by instinct to find a pair of earrings displayed on a vendor’s cart. They reminded him of baby stars. He was close now that if they were real he would have felt the their heat.

"Are these?"

"Why yes, they are earrings made with crystal from a dragon claw. You’ll find none crafted more finely."

"Remarkable!" Pip said. He was reaching out to touch them. It felt like his hand was being pulled by an imaginary string. But then the vendor cut that string.

"These are not for servant hands. If your master is nearby, tell him to come, and I will let him hold them." Pip looked a little confused.

"I have no master."

"Well be gone then. I don’t have time to entertain people dressed like you” she said looking him up and down.

Pip was surprised, by this answer. No one had ever called him poor before even if he was. He felt like the light from the earrings exposed him so, he obeyed her and left. But he took one last glance at the earrings. For her to have so many meant the city must be filled with dragons. His excitement returned.

While wandering the market further, he was captured by an intoxicating scent. He followed it to a vendor mixing potions of dragon’s blood. He wanted to stay and watch, but a humming noise suddenly flooded through him, filling him with a warm happiness. He had to look for the source.

He walked two carts down, where he found a man standing surrounded by smooth stones of various sizes and colors. Now that he was next to them, he felt as if the happiness had wrapped around his heart. These were undoubtedly dragonstones, which were incredibly rare. Pip was about to ask how the man had acquired so many, but then someone started yelling in the street. He turned to find a man dressed in a colorful outfit, brandishing a sword.

"Good morning, ladies and lords! Here I have one of the finest swords you’ll ever see, crafted with dragon flame and molded with hammers of dragon crystal." He swung the sword in a performative display. A crowd started to gather. He tossed it in the air, letting it flip twice before catching it and whipping it toward teh sky. The crowd cheered.

"It will slay any beast," he said, pulling it from the air and pointing it at the crowd as he walked by, lingering in front of each person. "It will protect any family." Out of nowhere, he spun around and flourished it. "It may..." He paused, letting the murmurs in the crowd beg for the next line. "It may even change your fortune."

Pip’s mouth was open as he watched from afar. He waited until the vendor was finished and the crowd dispersed. Pip approached. He wasn’t just sold on the sword, he was sold on the life.

"Good day," Pip said, walking up to the sword salesman, whose back was turned as he unpacked merchandise. "Your skill as a salesman is unparalleled, and the sword itself, well, it’s like you said—I’ve never seen a better one." He said this with confidence and flair inspired by the salesman’s recent act, but he still didn’t turn around. "I would love to become your apprentice—work under you." There was silence, as the salesman took his time and finished unpacking his belongings.

"Oh, you’re still here. Look, I don’t take apprentices, and I’d really like for you to leave. You seem nice, but you look like a beggar and that’s not good for business." The words stung. It was the second time today he had been made to feel like less. But Pip looked past the salesman at the long row of vendors and knew his opportunity was still out there.

"Thank you for the time," he said, and began walking the long market road. He stopped at each of the vendors. He even circled back to the potion maker and the man selling dragonstones. All of them—every last one—shooed him away just as quickly as the sword salesman. And they all did it while one hand was greedily clutched around their coin purse.

There was no one left in the market to talk to, and now he stood at the city gates still waiting on a new life. He placed a hand on the smooth limestone wall and rubbed it. The beauty reminded him of why he was here—he didn’t want to go back to his old village.

"Maybe the life of a merchant isn’t for me," he whispered to himself. “I’d “probably be a better craftsman anyway.” He dusted himself off and headed into the city.

There was so much to see and so much to hear. Everyone moved so quickly. A mother was telling her child to keep up, and the boy nearly had to run to keep up. Pip didn’t know who he could stop, but finally picked out a man who seemed to be moving slightly slower than everyone else.

"Excuse me, do you know where I can find the city’s craftsmen—stonemasons, carpenters?"

"Over there." The man pointed and walked off in a hurry leaving Pip no time for follow up questions. A pointed finger in an ambiguous direction would have to be enough.

He explored miles of random streets. The size of the city made the market seem small, and despite bad directions, he found the stonemasons and carpenters. He even ran into a few blacksmiths. They all rejected him like the vendors in the market, but for some reason their rejection hurt seemed to hurt a little more.

Most of the day had passed, and Pip was feeling lost. He was over the job hunting, and wanted go find the dragons, but he didn’t know where they were. He could have asked someone, but he didn’t feel like talking anymore.

So he sat down on a wooden bench to rest his feet. He watched as all the people rushed by. He thought back to his village. The people would never act like this, but maybe that’s the price of having shining walls and giant towers. Maybe that’s what it took to live with dragons.

As he thought this, he looked at the towers. Still no dragons. But how? A nearby store was selling kites made of dragon wings. A small boy walked by with a wooden dragon in his arms. The pub across the street had a dragon painted on its sign.

A clicking noise came from down the road. Pip looked to see what the sound was. It was a horse walking on the cobblestone street, decorated with scale armor that molded onto its body. This was nothing compared to the man riding it. His chin was turned upward and a shining green cape made of dragon skin hung from his neck. Pip noticed he wore the same earrings from the market that morning. This man was wealthy, maybe a nobleman or a politician. He began to wonder if this was a sign—maybe all the rejection was leading to this. He gathered the few bits of confidence he had left and chased after the horse.

"Excuse me, sir," Pip said, now keeping pace next to the horse. "I am new to this city and determined to find work. I’ll do anything to be your apprentice; I’ll even start as a servant and work my way up." The last sentence made Pip uneasy. The nobleman only turned his chin up more.

"Go away."

Pip felt the words in his gut. Then the nobleman spit on his face, and Pip stopped in place while the horse continued. He stayed until the spit fell from his cheek to the ground and then began to walk. The direction didn’t matter.

He wandered without a thought until he found himself in the bowels of the city. The streets were littered with trash, and the buildings were falling apart. He figured no one would mind if he found a small alleyway to sleep for the night. Something in him—something small—let him believe it was only for tonight. Tomorrow will be different.

But when he settled on a small and dumpy-looking alleyway with enough trash to make a pillow, he noticed a help wanted sign on a nearby shack. It was a dingy little piece of trash that had been there longer than Pip was alive. A faded tapestry hung as a substitute for a door.

Pip walked toward the sign. He touched it; he wanted to know it was real.

"Hello." He said poking his head through the tapestry. No one answered. He thought it would be rude to go through the house, so he squeezed through the alleyway to get to the other side. He found an older man, probably in his fifties, holding a very large hand cart covered with a thick sheet.

“What do you want?” the older man snapped.

“I saw your sign. I’d be happy to help,” Pip said, playing with his hands awkwardly. He started to wonder again if the sign was real. The old man studied him but didn’t say anything.

“The name’s Pip. It’s nice to—”

“Well, Pip, you look kinda scrawny,” the old man said. Pip immediately lowered his head and began to turn away. He knew where this was going.

“But I think you’ll do.”

—

“Oh, thank you, sir!” Pip turned around and rushed to the old man. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.” The excitement went as suddenly as it came. “Could I trouble you for one more thing?” The old man raised his eyebrows. “Could I have a place to sleep—only for the night? I’ll find my own tomorrow.”

“I have a cot out back you can use.” Pip’s built-up tension began to flood out of his body. He could relax now. He had a job, he had a place to stay. He was one step closer to that new life.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get to it.”

Pip, surprised by the sudden change in the man’s tone, stumbled over to the hand cart.

“Where am I to take this?”

“It goes to that dumping site on top of the tall cliff—you know, the one that overlooks the sea?”

“Sorry, but I don’t know where that is.” The old man sighed, but he wasn’t annoyed—just tired.

“You must not be from here.”

“No, I’m from a small farming village. Just got in today.”

“You came all the way here to be a garbage man?”

“No sir, to be part of this,” Pip said as he stretched his arms and spun around, as if he was trying to hold the entire city. “I grew up learning how great this city was—about the dragons that live in harmony with man. I had to come.”

“Oh…” the older man said. He ran his hand through his hair uncomfortably, then grabbed a wooden cane lying on the ground. “Well, let’s get going. I’ll show you the way tonight, but tomorrow you’re on your own.”

Pip lifted the cart, and the two began down a road that led to the front gates. They passed numerous junkyards, some full of splintered wood and others filled with broken iron.

“So you’re a garbage man? Is that what’s in here?”

“Yeah,” the old man said. “I’m a garbage man.” Pip noticed his voice was different, but the old man changed the subject.

“I’ll pay you a copper a day, except on Sunday when we get our big hauls—then I’ll pay you two. The lower city drops off their trash on Monday…”

Pip tuned him out. They were passing underneath one of the dragon towers, and he couldn’t help try one last time.

“What are you looking for?” the old man asked, realizing Pip wasn’t paying attention.

“The dragons. I can’t believe I haven’t seen one all day.”

“I’m sorry, kid, but you aren’t going to see any dragons up there.”

“What do you mean? This is the City of Dragons!”

“It’s just not like that anymore,” the old man said. Luckily for him, they had just arrived at the city gates,

and Pip turned his attention to the vendors packing up in the marketplace.

“I asked every single one of them for a job today,” Pip admitted bashfully.

“It’s good you didn’t get one. Their a greedy lot.” Pip wasn’t sure about this, but he felt better. They continued past the vendors to a point where the road forked.

“It’ll be up this way. Brutal climb, but you’ll get used to it.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. Thanks again for giving me work.”

The two started up a steep road. The wind blew, and Pip felt the cold ripple through his tattered clothing just like it had that morning. The old man walked a few paces ahead, until they turned a corner and a cave came into view.

“Wow,” exclaimed Pip, as he dropped the handcart and ran ahead. “This is a dragon cave—and the way it looks over the sea—what a perfect location for a home.”

“Come on, let’s stay on task,” the older man called back. “We want to make it back before the sun goes down.”

Pip jogged back and started pulling the cart again. “You think we’ll see one as we pass?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Really? But if they aren’t in the skies and they aren’t in their homes, where are they?” he asked, slightly out of breath. All the running had tired him.

“Underground, nowadays.”

“Dragons underground!? That doesn’t sound right. They should be up in the air, flying.” The older man didn’t say anything but nodded his head in a silent agreement. Pip waited until the cave passed to ask any more questions. He wanted to watch it and let his imagination tell him how it used to be.

The wind’s intensity increased, and so did Pip’s heavy breaths. They were about halfway up when the cart jerked to a stop and nearly knocked Pip to the ground. The contents inside made a weird rattling sound.

“You okay?” the older man asked, as Pip wiped the dirt from the road off his already dirty pants.

“I’m fine.”

“Forgot to warn you about that hole. It’s gotten me a few times.”

The wheel of the handcart was stuck. It was heavy and took a few moments to get out.

“Let’s rest a moment,” Pip said and went to sit on a nearby stone overlooking the sea. Once the old man checked the wheel for damage, he went and stood next to him.

“About ready to keep going?”

Pip stayed sitting on the rock. He was starting to realize something, and despite everything that happened to him, it was the first time all day he felt truly sad.

“If the dragons are underground, do you ever get to see them?”

“Not anymore.”

“I just don’t get it. Why are they underground?” Pip asked, turning from the ocean to look directly at the old man. He felt his hope washing away.

“Come on, let’s keep moving, and I’ll tell you some more.”

Pip sniffled and wiped his eyes. When he stood up, the back of his shirt caught on a bush and ripped. It was barely worth keeping on, but he let it hang from his shoulders. He picked up the cart and continued.

“So, what’s the reason?”

The old man had nowhere else to hide, so he let out a deep sigh.

“It’s easier for…” His tongue didn’t let him speak for a moment. “For them to get the parts.”

“What do you mean?”

“The scales for the armor, the blood for the potions. It’s easier to get these things when the dragons are in their cages.”

“Cages?! The dragons are kept in cages?! That’s criminal. But how? They’re too strong to keep in cages.”

“That’s why they only keep the young ones.”

The cart fell out of Pip’s hands. His knees grew shaky.

“Just the young ones, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“In cages?”

“Yeah.”

Pip felt his heart sink to his stomach, but picked the cart up and kept moving. With each step, he could feel the blisters forming on his feet.

“Are they big cages?”

The older man didn’t want to say.

“Are they big cages?” Pip asked again. He knew the answer, but he needed to hear it.

“No.”

The rest of the walk was silent until they got close to the top. Pip saw a mine cart near a tunnel entrance that fed into the cave they’d spotted earlier.

“What’s the cart for?”

“That’s how they get the dragonstone out.”

Pip lowered the cart to the ground. “Hold on a moment.” He walked to the entrance of the tunnel and listened. He needed a bit of happiness like he had in the market, but when he poked his head into the cave and the humming touched his ear all he felt sadness. He returned to the old man and the car, hoping they were close to the top.

“Were there ever a lot of dragons?”

“When I was young, yes. I used to come out to these cliffs and watch them fly over the ocean.”

“That sounds nice.”

They made it to the top of the cliff that looked over the ocean. A giant hole sat in the ground. It looked unnatural, man-made. Pip approached it carefully and peeked over the edge, trying to see the bottom, but it was too deep.

“Is this the spot?”

“Yeah. Let me help with the cover.”

The older man grabbed the cover, and his hand shook as he waited for Pip to grab the other side. When the man nodded, they began to pull, but halfway through, Pip stopped, and his face went pale.

“These are bones,” he said. “Small bones.”

“Yes they are… Ready to dump them?”

Pip stood there for a while.

“Why do you do it?”

“So I won’t starve.”

Pip thought about that empty alleyway next to the old man’s shack. Then he reached down and felt his empty pockets. Did he really have a choice? He ripped off the rest of the cover, and they dumped the bones. When they began to leave, Pip noticed a boulder with an inscription lit up by the sun:

Here lie baby dragons, And the sins of a city buried with them.

Pip looked at his hands. They felt stained.