Patronage of Dragons

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.”

Lilium watched, eyes wide with marvel and a fervor to learn. She followed the fluid movements of Sir Pogona’s fingers as they traced a map of the Solen Valley.

“Where did they come from?” She pipped from her seat at the forefront of the room.

The ministrations of the old Knight paused; his hand hovered over a shaded illustration of Mount Cularius.

“Lilium,” he snapped. The wrinkled corners of his lips quivered. “I have reprimanded you every lecture. Do not speak out of turn.” Lilium’s small hand fell from where she had enthusiastically raised it. The other children turned their heads to each other, chittering and chattering with their palms over their mouths. Their Dragon Patrons seemed to laugh with them, flinging their spiked tails in amusement. Lilium’s Patron, Varanus, nudged under her elbow and curled up beside her lap. Lilium sighed, running her touch over the young dragon’s black scales as Pogona continued. “However, we discovered the first dragons here.” Pogona turned, movements ginger and slow. His finger continued down to the base of the mountain. Varanus’ head rotated, forked tongue flickering as Lilium leaned forward with her eyes wide once more. “The mouth of the River Rian. A traveling merchant, known as 'Helo,' found himself in peril…”

Helo gripped the leather of his mule’s reins, leading the stubborn animal on foot across rocky terrain.

“We’re almost there, Odo,” Helo reassured his old friend.

Odo snorted and puffs of frozen air followed the incredulous breath. His hooves planted where he stood, even as Helo leaned against his mouth with all his body weight.

“Fine.” The man gave up and watched Odo’s narrow eyes drift towards the running water behind them. “We can stop for a drink.”

Odo’s feet moved easily towards the half-frozen river before Helo tied him to a nearby tree and found himself a spot to lie down.

Odo grazed and drank as Helo nearly fell asleep, absentmindedly picking at the frosted-over grass.

A deep rumble in the earth interrupted his napping and spooked Odo, whose neck lurched, trying to back away from the tree. Helo rushed to his feet, scrambling to untie the mule as a flurry of rocks and snow rushed down the mountainside. Helo’s heart beat in his throat as his arms shook - vision blurring, knees buckling. He couldn’t get the damned reins undone.

Boulders tumbled off the mountain and landed in a shower of shrapnel. Pieces struck the wagon attached to Odo, throwing him off his feet. The reins snapped, hitting Helo in the face and dazing him. He fell back to see the avalanche too close to escape; Odo attempted to outrun it, with shards of the cart dragging on his harness behind him.

“So, you’re leaving me behind, then!” Helo yelled after the mule, watching his tawny hindquarters disappear over the bank of a hill.

Helo scrambled back and closed his eyes, wincing as the ground continued to rumble beneath him.

Then there was a high, deafening screech and pressure against Helo’s clothes. His eyes shot open at the sound of billowing wings around his head. Three small horned creatures surrounded him. Two floated over his shoulders, grasping with sharp talons for the sleeves of his coat. The third clambered over his legs, holding onto his trousers. Helo’s chest locked up, disabling the scream that pressed to erupt at the sight.

The creatures’ leathery, vein-striped wings flapped with a force that swept cold air into Helo’s face; he flailed against their grips as he felt himself lift from the ground.

Straining against his panicking, they continued to fly upward out of the rock slide’s reach. Plumes of snow crashed beneath Helo as he stared straight ahead, willing himself to not look down.

The strange animals carried him to an outcropping across the valley, unfathomably high up a cliff face. They dropped him unceremoniously, and he tumbled into the opening of a cave. On his hands and knees, Helo’s chest heaved, his mouth went dry. He heard the creatures behind him, yipping to each other as they landed. His eyes remained screwed shut, blocking out any admittance that it could be reality. He did not dare look at the winged things as they drew closer and took cautious, curious sniffs. The earth still cracked and groaned far below, and he hoped with all his might the cliff would hold.

The shrill yips grew softer, farther.

Helo dared to peek open a single eye.

The trio of creatures sat inside the cave’s mouth, blinking at him with glowing gazes. Warmth seemed to physically emanate from them. They were patient. Sitting in a neat line and watching.

Helo watched them, too. Watched as, one by one, they looked over their shoulders and turned to saunter into the cave.

It took him a moment, stumbling upright and balancing himself on a boulder. But as they peacefully trotted after one another into the darkness, Helo felt he had no choice but to follow.