The Dark Summer

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Not that it mattered now.

Adrienne stood in her once-elegant coronation gown, frozen, as the boulder she had attempted to scramble up unfolded into a drake. His massive body slithered around until he stood on four legs, his tail disappearing into the trees on the far side of the clearing. His bulky wings balanced on his gnarled back. The great beast towered over his newly discovered treasure and dwarfed the trees surrounding the meadow. The dragon opened his mouth, displaying a cavity large enough for the princess to stand up in, and breathed his coal breath onto her face with a guttural hiss. The heat transferred to Adrienne confirmed his identity; Erobern, the fearsome fire drake that terrorized Erste these past months, stood before her.

The black beast had appeared to the people of Erste as if from the morning mountain mist, an annoyance at first. He snatched random livestock and toppled an occasional tree. As time continued, he began burning entire villages and destroying settlements of hunters with his deadly fire, earning the name of Erobern. In a few short months, Erste had transformed from a bustling metropolis to a fear-ridden community of rapidly dwindling people. Friedrich Sommer, King of Erste, was beside himself. Confusion and hopelessness ran rampant in the castle, Erste’s king lost as to what to do with the indestructible drake that hunted and consumed his people.

Erobern exhaled again, his chuff fogging up Adrienne’s shining golden headdress that layered her raven hair. Her exquisite dress that mirrored the splendor of the ornate headpiece was now tattered from her escape through the forest and her side ached from an impact with a tree when she had tumbled down a knoll. The pine branches had reached and grabbed and ripped at the silk of her gown and the ferns of the forest floor had torn at her slippers and lace as she raced through the trees to preserve her life.

Lord Kort Meier, sent by Queen Griselda no doubt, had been gaining on her in their chase through the valley and would burst into view soon. Adrienne’s only satisfaction came in knowing that Kort would witness her demise, not cause it. Not that it mattered now; they would both meet Odin soon. She turned her eyes to Erobern’s intimidating body. His back, tail, and wings were decorated with sharp horns several meters tall and thick, distinguishing him as a centuries-old elder drake. The beast greedily inspected the paralyzed Adrienne with his serpentine eyes emulating glowing embers, his enormous maw partially open in a sneer. Rows and rows of glinting, razor-sharp teeth encased by the black scales that covered his face and body greeted Adrienne when her eyes shifted to his open mouth. Her heart thrummed in her chest; she was exhausted from her frenzied fleeing and terrified by the immense head staring her down.

A snap sounded behind Adrienne, distracting the fire drake for a moment as his eyes darted up to see the new quarry. In that moment, Erobern flattened into a stalking position Adrienne had once seen a mountain lion do before pouncing on an unsuspecting doe. His haunches were poised and ready in a predator-pounce, his shoulders and head lowered to the earth. Erobern’s limbs and body camouflaged, resuming the façade of the rubble-filled hillside that had deceived Adrienne into climbing it. His disguise met completion as his third eyelid closed, obscuring his glowing orb from sight with a film of obsidian. Erobern could still see through the visage of rock, his body tensed to lunge at the ignorant prey in the woods.

As if on cue, he came panting out from the thick forest. Kort. The court idiot. His velvet finery ruffled from the dash through the forest pursuing Adrienne, and he was bleeding from his leg. Before checking his surroundings, Kort opened his mouth and brandished a silver dagger at Adrienne.

“Ah there you are princess; I see you’ve come to your senses. The queen will be happy to receive your heart- “

Adrienne screamed as the drake released a blast of orange fire accompanied by an earth-shattering roar. The foliage surrounding the fool was alighted with dragon fire, and the flames engulfed her assassin and instantly ended Kort, his body a burnt pillar in the meadow. Erobern swallowed the burnt remains of Kort whole, purring in a way that only a satiated beast of prey purrs.

Black lines of kohl-stained Adrienne’s cheeks as tears found their way down to her gown, her hands shaking at her sides as she awaited her fiery doom. The fire drake ceased its purr after rooting in the ashes for scraps and approached Adrienne, looming over her small frame. She stood motionless; eyes clenched tightly shut like she had as a child hiding from the butzemann. There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Not that it mattered now.

With a tree quaking thud, Adrienne opened her eyes to find the formidable fire drake laying at her feet. The feet of the hunted princess. Smiling and purring once more, with his eyes fully closed, like a house cat basking in the summer sun. Adrienne looked over the mound of docile black scales and spikes at the ash pile that once was Kort. She was grateful that she had not met the same fate as he and petrified of Erobern the Conqueror’s display of power.

She wept in silence, still as a board. As the sun sank lower in the sky and her muscles began to ache, the dragon stirred. His eyes zeroed in on the statuesque princess. Erobern moved his head closer and closer to Adrienne until his monstrous horned snout bumped her shoulder. He inhaled deeply into her golden gown and before Adrienne could blink he rose,, grabbing her with his front claws. His midnight wings unfurled and cut across the expanse of the glade as the pair took flight, the pine trees bending to the powerful force of the drake’s wings. The air in Adrienne’s lungs rushed out and the last sight she saw before succumbing to darkness was the earth and Kort’s remains shrinking away from her, the dagger shining splendidly among the ashes. There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Soon, there wouldn’t be a princess in the valley either.

Erobern continued to climb, holding the delicate princess in his lethal talons. Before breaching the clouds, he angled his agile body toward the mountain home of the dwarves; the Bergarbeit. The menacing mountains stood guard around the valley of Erste, perpetually blanketed in snow and treacherous winds. To the humans of the valley the mountain peaks provided the most scenic view, but to the dwarves and dragons the Bergarbeit was more. The dwarves lived deep under the earth where they built elaborate structures and mined rare gems. No one saw much of them, especially not in recent years. The merchants that ventured toward the mountains met with a witch that mediated trade, so many Erstens began to believe the dwarves were nothing but a fiction.

Erobern beat his impressive wings to maintain altitude and coasted in and out of the clouds toward the fading sunset. He traveled faster than normal into the night, eager to return to his hoard with his latest addition: a grandiose figurine of gold.

Under the light of a full moon and thousands of stars, a thin layer of ice accumulated on Erobern’s wings. He reached the summit of his flight and aimed nose-down, beginning the long dive to the entrance of his cave. Adrienne awoke to the most stomach-pitching view of the Bergarbeit a human had ever seen; the ground barreling at her. She blinked the frost from her eyelashes and shrieked, her voice lost in the wind created by their descent. Adrienne clung to Erobern’s claws and muttered her final words to Freya as the duo continued to careen toward the mountains. In the last seconds of their free-fall, Erobern jerked his muscled neck and his body followed into a yawning fissure in the rock face. They sped inside as the fire drake expertly maneuvered through stalactites and stalagmites until the princess was turned upside down and inside out. Her stomach began to disagree with her and just before she lost her breakfast of hotcakes topped with berries and cream, the passageway broadened into a spacious cavern filled with gold treasures of all shapes and sizes. Small, gilded silverware sat in contrast to magnificent carved statues adorned in gold and expertly crafted. In the middle of the extensive room was a lava flow lighting the chamber and providing heat against the bitter cold. Erobern alighted to the closest bare spot and set his new treasure down among his immeasurable artifacts, content that his hoard was untouched by those pesky dwarves and that his trove had grown on his latest escapade.

Adrienne groaned when she was released, stumbled to her knees, and promptly emptied her stomach. She steadied herself, her back to Erobern and her headpiece slipping to the black rock beneath her feet as she wiped her face. The princess gazed across the sea of gleaming treasures, stunned to see the wealth such an ancient creature had collected; there were more riches in his hoard than in the entirety of Erste.

Erobern recoiled when the princess turned toward him, stunned at his new statue’s sudden vivacity. His confusion turned to hostility as a low growl emerged from the depths of the fire drake. He crept forward to investigate the potential threat to his vast stores. Adrienne threw up both hands, begging for the giant to cease his advance.

“Wait!” The princess pleaded with the dragon, and the dragon listened.

The company of guards instructed by Queen Griselda to locate Lord Kort Meier and Princess Adrienne searched the woods for a week before returning to the castle. When Kort did not return the day of the princess’s birthday with his task completed Griselda sent her personal entourage out to look for him, worried he had lost his nerve and abandoned her. Griselda’s men easily blended in with the host of soldiers searching for the lost princess.

When the guards did not return within the next few days, Griselda’s apprehension turned more desperate as she speculated that Kort had betrayed her to the King. However, there was nothing for her to do but exercise patience for her men’s return and hope Kort would bring proof of his finished task. So, she waited. She stewed in her finery and braided golden hair, she sweated while eating stuffed duck and preserved pears, she worried during emergency meetings and war talks. Her perseverance was rewarded on the dawn of the seventh day. The queen’s guards returned, disheveled and exhausted, seemingly empty handed but reported to her parlor for debriefing nonetheless.

“My Queen, we were unable to find Lord Meier or her highness,” Captain Cariel Pechman said while paying deference by bending the knee. Griselda’s hand gripped the chair arm until her knuckles whitened, fear of Friedrich’s wrath and her failed plan clouding her mind.

Captain Pechman reached into his leather satchel and retrieved the familiar silver dagger, “all we found was this dagger far out in the valley in a destroyed meadow. It was in a pile of ashes that looked to be Erobern’s doing.” Griselda accepted the dagger as glee swept across her face. He hadn’t betrayed her after all! That stupid Kort; even in death he served his queen.

“How large was the ash heap?” She questioned them.

“It’s hard to say, your Majesty,” Cariel responded.

“Really. One person? Two people? A village?” Her fingernails tapped rhythmically on the chair.

A guard from the line spoke up, “if I may, your Grace, Bastion Modrow,” he bowed as he strode forward. “Erobern eats his victims, so bodies aren’t found and estimating from the ashes is difficult. But if I had to guess, the ashes could hold the remains of one,” he shrugged,” maybe two people. It was a substantial pile from what I’ve seen.” He stepped back into position.

The Queen leaned into the chair cushion and relaxed with a slight smile. She moved the dagger deftly between the fingers on her left hand while she inspected her men, seeing for the first time their haggard appearance.

“Thank you Sir Bastion. Thank you all for your service and time, go wash up and enjoy a hot meal. Well done.”

The guards bowed and straightened, exiting her parlor, “long live Queen Griselda the Fair.”