Mercy

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Elai had heard occasional reports of dragons stealing livestock during lean winters, but those occurrences were rare and always happened in the shadow of the mountains. Hunters knew not to venture too high and to always travel in groups–dragons were skittish and avoided large hunting parties, though no one wanted to test them without good reason. Elai couldn’t remember a time when dragons were spotted in the heart of the valley.

A distant roar sounded and he froze, something primal shooting down his spine and freezing him in place. His eyes shot to the sky and watched as the dragon soared overhead, the deep grey-green of its scales burnished in the golden rays of the late afternoon sun. He felt the flock around him do the same, their contented bleats going mute with the same primal urge to blend into the land around them.

He watched as the creature continued north and thanked Mor, goddess of the earth, as it traveled further and further away from the flock. When it was just a mere speck in the sky, Elai let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

No one thought anything of the attacks when they’d begun a few months before, but people became uneasy as dragons ventured further from the mountains. Shepherds tried to find ways to protect their animals, but little seemed to help. Rumors of overpopulation forcing dragons elsewhere for food started circulating–just last week, Elai had heard talk of sending hunting groups out to thin the numbers if the attacks didn’t stop soon.

Elai continued to stare into the sky, the thought of killing dragons not sitting well with him. Yes, he’d do whatever he needed to do to protect his animals, but didn’t venturing into the dragon’s territory to kill them go against the natural order of the world? His grandmother’s words rang in his ears–”Men should be wary of trying to force the world into a mold of their own design.” There’d never been an issue with dragons venturing into the valley before, so why would overpopulation cause it now? No, he was certain there was another reason.

Soft bleating broke Elai out of his reverie. He glanced around at the flock, happily grazing and perfectly content now that the threat had passed. He turned toward the sound of jingling, where his brother had begun gathering and leading the sheep back to their paddock, the bells at the end of his staff telling them which way to go.

Their flock was small, barely more than thirty rams and ewes–enough to provide wool to sell and supplement their food over the winter, if they were lucky during lambing season. Elai did a quick count but came up one short. He counted again, anxiety clawing softly at his ribcage, but he came to the same number.

“Rolan!” His brother’s bells stopped ringing as he turned to face him. “Is Bel over by you?” Bel was one of the only ewes to become pregnant this lambing season–losing her would be devastating.

Rolan shook his head. “No, why? Is she not by you?”

Elai shook his head and glanced around. They’d ventured near the wood–it was possible Bel had run in, her instinct to flee and save her unborn lamb rather than freeze in the face of danger. He turned back to his brother. “I’ll check in the wood, you make sure the rest don’t get too far.” He lifted his own staff and slammed it down on the ground, causing the bells attached to the top to ring out and the sheep near him to run toward Rolan and the rest of the flock.

Elai turned toward the wood, worry quickening his steps. Why did he have to stare after the dragon for so long? It hadn’t been a threat. Yes, he’d always been fascinated with dragons, but that was an interest best left in childhood. It had been a lean winter and lambing season hadn’t been promising–he didn’t know what he’d do if anything happened to Bel.

The sounds of the wood engulfed him–the clicking of the spruce beetles, the rustling of the leaves, the strange hum that always seemed to emanate from trees that tickled the back of Elai’s mind. He held the strap attached to the bells taught to silence them as he continued deeper into the wood and listened.

A short time later, the sounds of struggle and plaintive bleats came from his right. He turned toward it and ran, heart climbing into his throat as he vaulted over fallen limbs and wound through the trees. There shouldn’t be any creatures that could hurt Bel this far away from the forest, but there also shouldn’t be dragon sightings so far from the mountains.

Elai burst through an area of undergrowth and nearly tripped over the pregnant ewe. He jumped to the side and fell, his staff skittering away as the bells made muted metallic cries of protest. Elai shook his head and turned to Bel. She stood in a sparse area of undergrowth, her hoof stuck in a fallen limb. She’d stopped her cries and now gave Elai a look that said, “It took you long enough to get here.” He gave a sigh of relief that she seemed unharmed.

He stood and walked over to the ewe, who began pointedly tugging at her trapped hoof. He crouched to examine the situation–she seemed to have stepped between two branches, then somehow wedged her hoof at their junction when she tried to pull it away. He grabbed the limb in one hand and Bel’s foreleg in the other, then gave a gentle but firm tug.

With a scrape, Bel’s leg came free. She danced a few steps away, as if testing her freedom, then trotted happily toward the pasture. Elai gave a sigh and rolled his neck, thankful he didn’t have to catch Bel and use the lead he carried for wayward sheep, then followed to the edge of the wood. His brother had the flock heading toward home and Bel made her way to join them. Elai took a stop to follow, then realized he didn’t have his staff. He glanced back at the wood and sighed, uncertain what deity he’d displeased. He waved to his brother before heading back to search.

The sun was low in the sky and the wood was getting dark. Elai figured he’d have just enough light to get his staff without losing visibility, but he likely wouldn’t make it home before twilight fell. Following the crushed undergrowth left behind from Bel’s exit, he retraced the path. His shoulders relaxed when he saw the muted light of the forest glinting off bells on the ground.

A strange wind rustled through the trees and he froze just as he reached down to retrieve the staff, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. What was that? The wind rustled once more, and that’s when Elai realized he wasn’t hearing a breeze, he was hearing breathing.

A wheezing huff sounded nearby, its cadence stilted and irregular. Something wasn’t right. With care, Elai retrieved his staff while holding the bells soundless. Then he straightened and made his way gingerly toward the sound.

This is stupid. What are you going to do when you find whatever’s breathing nearby? Invite it home? But the breathing sounded labored and the creature was likely hurt and in pain. He sent up a prayer for guidance to Mor and slowly made his way toward a thicket.

Elai gently parted the branches in front of him. At first, he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. There was a clearing with a large, irregular rock spanning the width between the trees. The stony surface looked almost iridescent as it picked up the dying light of the afternoon sun. Something about it made Elai’s heart jump into his throat. And then he realized the iridescence was moving–the rock was breathing.

The scene clicked into place in his head and Elai tensed to run. Dragon! But his feet remained firmly frozen in place. He had to get out of there, but he knew he couldn’t outrun something this large. It lay curled like a cat, wings covering its body and head laying at an uncomfortable angle.

Elai forced himself to calm his breathing. He had to think rationally. Yes, there was a dragon in the wood, but it was hurt. He couldn’t see any injuries, but its breath had a wet rattle that couldn’t be good. He fought the urge to step forward and comfort the giant creature, staring at it in fascination instead. Its dark black scales looked like obsidian in the dim light and he wondered if they felt as jagged as they looked. By contrast, its wings looked soft and downy, like a lamb’s nose. But there was something strange about the way one wing bulged out in the center. Maybe it was broken?

As Elai contemplated this, the lump under the wing began to move. He took an involuntary step back as something peeked out from beneath–a head, smaller than the dragons but still much, much larger than Elai’s. Another dragon?

The smaller dragon began making strange clicking sounds as it struggled out from beneath the weight of the wing. It finally moved the limb enough and came free with an ungraceful stumble, shaking itself once before cautiously approaching the larger dragon’s head. It continued clicking and chuffed gently as it nosed at the giant snout. The dragon opened its eye and stared at the smaller dragon, then gave a weak grumble. The smaller dragon pushed against the larger head more insistently, the clicking noises becoming more frantic.

The larger dragon closed its eye for a moment. When it opened again, Elai felt his face go white as the pale amber orb focused on him. He remained motionless, hoping the dragon was just staring into the forest, but the gaze felt piercing. He tensed as the dragon took a deep breath, certain he was going to have to run for his life. Instead, the giant creature let out a deep, rumbling moan that Elai felt in his bones and buzzed in his head and he had the strangest urge to lunge forward and protect the smaller dragon. Then the dragon’s eye closed and its body went limp, the wet rattle going silent.

The smaller dragon began clicking and chuffing as it pushed at the larger dragon’s head. When it didn’t get a reaction, it began to nudge more frantically, the chuffing turning into deep, pained whimpers.

Elai slowly backed away from the scene. It broke his heart that the young dragon would now be left defenseless, but what could he do? Take the dragon home with him? It would be killed as soon as anyone saw it. No, it stood a better chance of survival out here in the wood. But as Elai began to walk away, he heard its whimpers and remembered the dying breath of the larger dragon. The look in its eye hadn’t been fear or anger, it had almost looked like pleading. He knew it was crazy, but he felt like the larger dragon had wanted him to protect the younger one.

Elai’s feet slowed as he berated himself. Stupid! There’s nothing you can do to protect the dragon. You’ll just be putting your animals and family in danger. But even as he thought this, he found himself turning back. You’re going to get yourself killed. But part of him didn’t care, knew that he’d never be able to forgive himself if he left it to survive on its own.

He stopped as he reached the thicket. He needed to be careful not to startle the dragon–it was young, yes, but it was still large enough that it could hurt him, possibly even kill him. He took a deep breath and eased forward into the clearing.

The dragon didn’t notice him at first. It was still clicking and pushing at the larger dragon’s head, though its movements had slowed and the sounds it made were less frantic and more heartbroken. Elai’s resolve grew and he took a step forward, cursing inwardly as his foot landed on a twig and snapped it.

The sound startled the dragon and it swung its head toward Elai, then bared its teeth and growled low. Elai raised his hands, the bells on his staff jingling. “Whoa, it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The dragon took a slow step forward, then another. It kept itself low to the ground as the top of its wings flared out, making it seem larger than it was. It feels cornered, Elai realized. It reminded him of the dog he’d found in town a few years back. It had been starving and hadn’t trusted Elai at first, growling and snapping at him whenever he got close. It had taken weeks of bringing food and slowly inching closer for Elai to earn its trust enough to put on the lead and bring it home, where it lived out its days lazily guarding the chickens.

Elai didn’t have a few weeks with the dragon, he barely had a few minutes. He had to think of something fast.

He slowly crouched and gently laid his staff on the ground. The dragon’s eyes followed the movement, but it still approached. Elai glanced around, trying to think of something to calm the dragon and save himself. His eyes landed on the dead dragon and an idea struck him.

He looked at the smaller dragon and began clicking, doing his best to mimic the sounds it had been making earlier. The dragon hesitated, looking confused, then continued its slow approach. Elai continued to click, keeping his hands up and arms close to his sides so he appeared smaller.

By the time the dragon was a few feet away, Elai realized how large it really was. Its body had to be the size of a cow, though the wings on its back made it appear even larger. The sounds of the forest seemed to fade away until all he could hear was the low growl of the dragon, the clicking noises of his mouth, and his own heart beating a brisk staccato.

Time seemed to slow as the dragon approached and seemed to stop entirely when it was within touching distance. It stopped and continued its low growl. The sight of its teeth–as long as his fingers and sharper than his hunting knife–made Elai’s head feel light, so he focused on its eyes. This close, he could see that they were a darker shade of amber than the larger dragon’s had been, their depths taking on a reddish hue in the dim light of the wood. More importantly, he could see hesitation in their depths.

Elai took a fortifying breath and slowly extended his hand. The dragon growled sharply and Elai stopped, but after a moment he reached his hand out once more until he was gently touching the dragon’s nose. The scales there were warm to the touch and he found the sensation oddly comforting.

“It’s alright,” he said, keeping eye contact as he tried to convey with his body that he wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help.” They stayed like that for a long moment as the wood darkened around them. Elai willed the dragon to understand, to trust him.

After a time, the dragon pushed gently on Elai’s hand and clicked. Elai released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He stroked the dragon’s nose and made clicking sounds in response. Then Elai became aware that the light in the wood was dying and they would soon be engulfed in darkness. He had to get the dragon out and home, now.

“Ok,” he told the dragon, “I’m going to take you home. There’s an old stable we use for storage that should be safe for tonight.” He sighed and rolled his shoulders. “We’ll figure out what to do with you tomorrow.” He detached the lead from his belt and held it forward. The dragon insisted on inspecting it first, then surprised Elai by letting him tie it around its neck.

Elai retrieved his staff and stood to leave. The dragon took one step with him, then stopped. It turned back toward the body of the larger dragon and made a low whimper. Elai followed as it made its way back to the larger dragon. This close, he could see the sheer size of its head–it was longer than he was tall.

The smaller dragon pushed against the larger dragon’s head gently once, twice, as if saying goodbye. Elai felt his eyes prick with emotion and looked to the side, taking in the massive body. In the dying light, something glinted and caught his eye. He released the lead and gently stepped toward the massive wing. He lifted the side of it, the weight nearly too much for him to handle, and looked down. Then he almost wished he hadn’t.

The sight was sickening. Its chest was ravaged. Large areas of flesh were missing, and what was left was savaged and torn. One of the dragon’s lungs must have been punctured, which would explain the wet rattle Elai had heard earlier. His stomach flipped and he averted his eyes as he gently lowered the wing, taking deep breaths to dispel the nausea.

The smaller dragon watched Elai, its eyes filled with an intelligence that surprised him. He shook his head–there was nothing to be done here, and it was best they made their way home before night truly fell.

The dragon didn’t protest as Elai picked up the lead and led it out of the wood. Twilight had fallen and the stars were beginning to emerge from their daytime homes as they made their way back to Elai’s farm, keeping close to the treeline in case anyone approached. But Elai’s thoughts half remained on the dead dragon. Those wounds reminded him of the time a wolf had gotten into the chicken enclosure and had killed one before they ran him off. The wolf’s jaw had clamped around the chicken’s chest, leaving wounds that looked exactly like what the dragon’s body had. But he’d seen the size of the dragon’s head and jaws. If that was the case, whatever had killed the dragon had been much, much larger, large enough that its jaws had been able to span the dragon’s chest.

He didn’t know what could have left those marks, but he knew one thing for certain–the hunting parties would be doomed if they went into the mountains. There was something up there, something even the dragons feared, and it was only a matter of time before it, too, came to the valley.