Lake of Dragons

“There weren't always Dragons in the valley”. Grandad leaned forwards conspiratorially, the hushed circle of little ones automatically followed suit. “Back when I was a lad, this was a bustling fishing village, we alone knew the secrets to pluck the sweet treasures from the depths of our lake”. His eyes clouded with the far off look of reminiscence, that and cataracts. “Back then we had the whole lake we didn’t cower in the shallows, scraping a life off what the dragons left us”.

Grandad was back to the bitter present Jonna thought looking over at the little huddle from the door of the shack. Grandad always loved reliving the past but he always came back with an unsatisfied jolt. He turned and walked out of the shack. He'd heard the story himself countless times. The blasted biomage and her blasted eggs moved into the old fort in the middle of the lake meddling in what didn’t need meddling with. Then the Biomages corpse washed up on the shore. They only knew it was the mage by her robes, her face being horribly disfigured. That had been the last peaceful year for the village.

The Dragons, although not native to the lake, had found it quite agreeable as had their countless offspring. As their numbers grew, fishing became more and more dangerous. Infant dragons would get caught in the nets and spray the entire crew with boiling steam if they were pulled aboard. The adult dragons were faster and stronger than anything imaginable; they had reduced the once extensive fishing fleet to matchwood and added the crews to the long list of the missing.

Jonna had only ever seen the dragons basking in the sun on the thin beaches of the lake like the one by the remains of the fishing village. Although he spent the majority of his time fishing the lake with his father, he’d never seen one in the water as they never ventured out further than the rocks like all who made their livelihoods off the water. The dragons found it difficult to manoeuvre through the rocks due to their long bodys and finns or so his father had told him countless times. All he knew about them he had weedeled out of his grandad, father and other surviving sailors. When he wasn't fishing with his father or needed elsewhere he would climb trees on the steep banks of the valley hoping to see their shadows moving under the surface of the lake. This was where he was heading now straight to his favourite tree that gave the best view all along the lake. The climb was steep and unwelcoming, the ground was crumbling and the trees that grew there seemed to cling on with sheer tenacity, a slight disregard for gravity and their own continued existence. After a few stumbles and slips he made it to his look out. A tall pine on the edge of a sheer drop where the earth had fallen away a few summers ago taking the trees there down with it. The result was a clearing from which the whole lake was visible. From the abandoned village with its deep harbour at the closest end of the lake out past the foreboding ruin of the fort right to the waterfall at the far end.

He shimmied up the pine, the rough bark adding to the many scratches on his calves and forearms until he reached the lower limbs and could climb more easily. He weaved his way through the close growing bouws to his normal perch imagining himself a dragon powerfully gliding through the rocks. He was brought back to reality quite suddenly when he slammed his head into the underside of a branch about halfway up the pine. The idea of falling never scared him because the few occasions he had been careless or slipped he had always got uncomfortably lodged in the dense mess of branches below.

Once balanced on his favoured spot Jonna peered down at the lake through the gaps in the foliage, his well practised eyes quickly dismissing the dark gusts on the water and trying to penetrate deep below the surface. Jonna stayed at his post until the dying rays of the setting sun were just sinking behind the waterfall at the far end of the lake making the cascading water bleed gold. The last rays of light reflected off the remnant of a smashed window in the abandoned fort before disappearing below the horizon leaving the lake in dusky stillness. The light gone, Jonna turned to scrabble down from his look out but paused when something glinting in the middle of the lake caught his eye. Puzzled, he leant far out over his branch to see the broken window in the fort was still glowing and flickering despite the absence of the sun. Jona stared at it not quite believing what he was seeing, the fort had been quiet since the death of the mage, everyone knew it. No one had even managed to make it to the island, the dragons were always especially protective of it. Father guessed they used the deep weed surrounding the island as a nursery for their eggs and their hatchlings. His father would know what to do, he always did.

Jona turned and descended as fast as he could, the thick mess of branches hampering his speed. Once Jona reached the bottom of the tree he sprinted down the side of the valley his body weight getting ahead of him making him run faster and faster to keep up with himself.

By the time he was close to the small huddle of homes clustered in the thinning trees near the edge of the lake his legs were shaking, having fallen several times narrowly avoiding trees and the odd boulder which dotted the valley's banks. He spotted the hulking silhouette of his father wearily trudging up from the beach and turned to meet him or at least his head turned the rest of his body seemed rather taken with its current trajectory. Which if left unchecked would send him careering into the standing stone which had been raised in memory and bearing the names of all those lost to the lake. Seeing the destination of his current trip he threw out his arms to catch a low hanging branch which redirected him neatly into a soft pile of pine needles. When he had finally found his way out from the nest of pine needles he found his father waiting patiently for him. Assuming correctly that Jona’s haste had something to do with him. Accepting his fathers hand up, Jona started to explain what he’d seen. His father’s brow creased a little but other than that Jona couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He motioned to Jona to walk back to the shack with him but didn't say a word deep in thought. Just before they entered the shack he turned to Jona and said in a hushed but calm voice.

“Listen Jona, thank you for telling me this but I don't want you to tell anyone else. That fort is bad news and we are best leaving it well alone”, Jona looked at his father stunned and opened his mouth to protest but his father pressed on with added intensity. “When the dragons first came, loads of people thought the solution lay within the fort, myself included but with each attempt we lost more people and we never even got close”. His eyes were glistening but fixed on each of Jona’s in turn. “Besides anything could have caused that light, I’m sure that mage kept all sorts of volatile things in that place. Just promise me this stays between us please”. Jona nodded and his father’s coarse hand patted him on the shoulder before pushing the door open and ushering him inside.