Valley of dragons

Valley of Dragons

“There weren’t always dragons in the valley,”

Sargoot told his son Erhon as they stood on the hillside. As they stood on the hillside, gazing at the magical vista of the mist-covered valley.

“Where did they come from?” Erhon asked, as he hungerly eyed the valley while walking behind his father on the path. He kept his eyes on the mist, instead of watching where he was stepping, hoping to see one of the great giants flying out of the mist.

“Once we get back to camp and cook up our meal, I’ll tell you over dinner.”

The two had been out hunting for the last two days. Today Erhon has shot and killed his first rabbit. He was very excited to eat it tonight for dinner instead of the small squirrels they had eaten last night. Sargoot could not be prouder of his son today, thinking to himself that his boy had taken his first steps to becoming a man.

Erhon had voiced his own opinion of his pride by re-telling the story of how he killed the rabbit over and over again. Prior to seeing the valley, his mind was occupied with the impending sweet taste of rabbit for dinner. Now his mind switched gears from a small grass eating rabbit to a large, flying, fire breathing, dragon. They turned on the path, which took them away from the valley and in the direction of their village, which was a half day's walk from their camp.

Erhon had heard many of the kids in the village talk about dragons, but never believed them. They also talked about a large monster in the lake at Loch Ness. But he knew his dad would not lie to him and tell him a wild tale if it were not true. Erhon remembered his mother warning his dad to stay out of the valley. He wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t mention anything about dragons.

That night Sargoot and Erohn feasted on the rabbit. It was so much better than a squirrel that he nearly forgot about the dragons.

Sargoot finished pulling off the last bit of meat of the rabbit's legs and washed it down with wine. He threw the bone in the fire, wiped his hands down his beard and onto his pants.

“Are you ready for the story?”

“Yes, tell me. Tell me.” Erohn begged, spitting out the last bits of rabbit in his mouth.

“This is the tale told to me by my father, who heard it from his father.” Sargoot waved his hand, indicating that the story began a long time ago. “Way back when your great, great, great, great, great grandfather was a boy. A king ruled over the land our village is on and this land as well.” Sargoot waved his hand over his head, indicating everything around them. “The king would send his knights and their squires out throughout the land to hunt for him and the rest of the royal court.

One day, a knight ventured into that valley and killed a large boar for the king. That night, the cook roasted the boar for the king's feast. The king loved the taste of the boar and called the knight forward to ask where he had killed the beast. The knight told him it was in the valley a day's ride east of the castle. The king gave the knight three silver pieces, for bringing him such a delicious beast.

Over the next few months, more of the knights traveled to the valley and brought back elk, boar, fish, and foul. The king was never happier and fatter. He decreed that only his men should be allowed to hunt and fish in the valley. Two more months passed when a knight came to the king and explained that while fishing in the lake in the middle of the valley, he came across an old hut made of tree bark and branches with a hearth made from river stone. Inside he came across a very old woman, the knight told her that she must move because this is the king's hunting grounds. The old woman refused, saying this was her land and no man would take it from her. ``

Sargoot paused to drink some wine. Erhon could hardly wait as his father dragged the pause further by filling his pipe, then lit it with a twig from the fire. “Come on, father, who was the old lady?”

Sargoot chuckled to himself as he threw the twig back into the fire.

“Okay, Okay keep your skin on.” Sargoot said before continuing the story. “The king had the old woman brought before him to explain to her that everything in the valley belonged to him and she would have to move. The old woman stood before the king without saying a word. The king told the old woman that she was living on his land and would have to move, or he would have his knights remove her.

The old woman’s cracked and dirty lips spread apart as if to smile, exposing only the bottom row of her dirty teeth. ‘What right do you have telling me that I must move when I have been in that house since before your father’s birth?’

‘Because I am your king and I demand that land.’

‘The land is not mine to give or yours to take’

‘The lord our God has bestowed on me the right to take what land I need or want’

‘Your god,’ the old woman waved her hands above her head as if swatting flies, ‘maker of your heaven and earth, decided to give you the right to my land?’ She finished her statement with a loud, cackling laugh. The king, who had been trying to be kind to the old woman, was now getting upset. He stomped his foot on the wooden footstool of his throne. The sound reverberated loud and sharp throughout the chamber. ‘My counselors have advised me; I may assume any land I see fit for the betterment of my kingdom.’

While others in the chamber jumped in surprise at the king's outburst, the old woman was not. The old woman continued to smile as she ripped a piece of material from her dirty shawl. She then began to rock back and forth as she tied knots into the piece of material. Muttering to herself.

The king waved over his priest and asked what the old woman was saying. The priest, unsure what the language was, simply replied.

“Druid”, then with a distasteful scowl on his face he added “a heathen”

“WITCH” the king's voice boomed throughout the stone walled chamber. One of the queen chambermaids yelped in fright at the king’s powerful voice. The old woman did not flinch at all. Instead, she finished tying the ninth knot in the length of the material and, and then spoke.

“Beware the laws of threefold” she then threw down the knotted length of material on the chamber stone floor. A loud clang rang throughout the chamber as the material hit the stone floor. It sounded more like a chain of heavy metal hitting the floor instead of soft material. Many in attendance in the chamber took a step backward in fear.

The king's patients had ended. He stood up and demanded that the witch be taken back to her hut and that the hut will be demolished in three days' time, with the witch in it or not.”

Sarboot paused and puffed on his pipe and bathed his parched throat with a drink of wine. To Erhon, it seemed like an hour had passed before Sarboot remembered what he needed.

“The two knights, Sir Glynowr and Sir Primrow seized the old woman, now labeled a witch by the king, and dragged her from the chamber. When the nights reached the door of the chamber with the old woman. The woman screamed.

“Beware the laws of threefold.” then let out a loud crackling laugh.

After the chamber door shut, the king beckoned the priest to him and whispered in his ear.

“What was that she yelled?”

“An old curse, sire.” The priest added. “What you do to me will come back unto you threefold.” he then added. “You need not worry what an old druid witch says. Just ranting of an old witch, whose beliefs have fallen with the rise of our lord and savior.” The priest followed that with the sign of the cross and kissing of the gold crucifix that hung around his neck. As he stared at the knotted cloth, the witch had thrown down.

Sir Penrow and Sir Glynowr pushed the old woman into a cart and shackled her arms and legs to the sides so she could not escape. They then drove her back to the shack by the lake in the valley.”

Sargoot paused and told Erhon to gather more wood for the fire, enough to keep it burning throughout the night. As Erhon walked off in search of wood. Thanks to a full moon, he was able to quickly find wood for the fire. He brought back one arm load and set out for another. On his second trip he found a limb that had fallen from a tree that still had branches full of leaves attached. He brought the second load and dumped it next to the first load. Erhon then tented three of the larger limbs over the fire, so they would catch fire but burn slower. He then sat down and waited for his father to continue his story.

“So, Sir Glynowr and Sir Primrow took the old woman back to her hut. Sir Primrow told her she had three days' time to clear out of the hut or they would burn it to the ground under orders from the king. The old woman acted as if she did not hear them and just went inside of her hut and shut the door behind her.

The two knights and their squires made camp in the woods, on the other side of the lake and waited for the old woman to leave. On the second night, Sir Primrow and Sir Glynowr noticed the old woman had made a large fire outside of her hut. From across the lake, they could see the old woman dancing around the fire but could not hear if she was saying or chanting anything. They decided they needed to get closer to hear what the old woman was saying. They made their way around the lake and were about 100 yards from her hut, when they noticed something very odd happening.

Sargoot paused and tapped out his pipe. “Should we continue this story tomorrow?” he asked Erhon.

“No,” Erhon demanded. “What did the knights see?”

Sargoot smiled and continued. “Four days after the knights took the old woman away, the guards at the gate noticed one knight returning, alone. The story goes the knight was slumped over the neck of his horse, a fine clag escaped off the knight armor as he rode toward the castle in the morning cool air. Once inside the castle, squires gathered to help the knight dismount his horse. Two squires burned their hands as they touched the knight’s hot armor. Unable to stand on his own, the knight, who turned out to be Sir Glynowr, was loaded into a pushcart and taken directly to the king's chamber. At his request, they gave Sir Glynowr wine and mead as they pushed him through the castle. Inside the king’s chamber, Sir Glynowr could stand on his own. Two squires, now wearing gloves, began to unbuckle his armor.

“What happened?” the king asked, coming into the chamber still wearing his bed cloths.

“Sire,” Sir Glynowr said, “We dropped the old woman off and her hut and told her she must move in three days' time, or we would burn the hut down with her in it or not, as per your order. We set up a camp on the other side of the lake to wait out the three days and to see if the old woman had left. On the second night there we saw the old woman build a fire by the edge of the lake.

We could see her dancing around the fire but could not hear if she was chanting or not. One of our squires told us that witches chanted magical spells while dancing around fires. So, Sir Primrow made our way around the lake, getting close enough to hear if she was saying anything. The old woman was chanting, but it was in a tongue we did not know. AAAHHHH.” Sir Glynowr cried out as the squire pulled off the armor off his right lower leg.

The squire noticed that the knight's linen pants were scorched and stuck to the armor itself.

“We did not know what she was saying, but she threw a large fish into the fire, scales and all. The old woman then picked up a duck that was standing beside her and tossed it into the fire. She then picked up a long-necked goose and threw it to the fire. Both the duck and goose seemed to fly into and not away from the fire. The old woman then danced around the fire, which seemed to have grown since she had thrown the fish and fowl into it.

When the old woman circled the fire, chanting repeatedly, came back to where she started, a wild boar walked up to her. The wild boar, whose tusks were long, curved, and yellowish in the firelight, walked into the fire as if on its own accord. When the boar entered the fire, the fire grew and became bright white. A flame the likes I’ve never seen. Sir Primrow guessed the old woman was attempting to get the fire hot enough and large enough to burn down the entire valley.

The tips of the flames seemed to reach the very top of the trees around the lake and became brighter than looking into the noonday sun.

Sir Glynowr paused and drank a mug of mead. The entire audience in the chamber watched in awe, waiting for Sir Glynowr to continue.

“And then the witch then raised her hands above her head and then fell to the ground. The large fire disappeared as if sucked down into the earth itself. The world went from brighter than midday to absolute darkness. It was total darkness, as if we had both been struck blind. I could see nothing. I could hear nothing. I remember reaching out to Sir Primrow to confirm I was still on this earth. I felt his hand grab mine in confirmation, but still no words were exchanged or heard if they were uttered.”

The king’s chamber itself became almost as quiet, nearly everyone holding their breath waiting for Sir Glynowr’s next words.

Sargoot paused to re-light his pipe, taking his time to enhance the story for Erhon.

“Father. What happened?” Erhon whined.

Sargoot smiled to himself and then continued with the story. “Sir Glynowr said. “As we both strained to see, the ground beneath us shook and shutter. As if all the horses in all the world were stampeding right beside us. Then the very earth groaned at the birth of the demon offspring it was releasing. As if birthed by a practiced midwife, a beast emerged headfirst from the coals of the old woman’s fire. The beast had a long flat snout with angry yellow curved tusks sprouting from its lower jaw. A head was attached to a seemingly endless long neck. Lower down the body, a pair of razor-sharp talons attached to forelegs appeared from the coals. The talons dug into the coals of the fire, pushing the beast further into the air. A good ten feet of torso erupted from the ground, before a pair of hind legs with sharp talons appeared tucked much like the forelegs, the talons gripped the coals and pushed the beast further into the air.

As the beast’s birth continued, the scales near the tail turned into what appeared to be feathers. When the tail appeared, the beast’s head was near the top of the timbers that lined the lake at least 30 feet in the air.” Sir Glynowr paused and drank more mead. The assemblage

in the chamber did not speak, waiting for the knight to continue his tale.

“The beast twisted and spun its body as it rose higher into the air.

‘Ouroboros,’ the old woman screamed with her hand held high above her head. The beast roared as huge wings sprouted from its back, above the forelegs. With its new wings spread out, the beast seemed to hang there in the air. It then dipped its head and began to fly, the sounds of its wings beating sounded like rolling thunder. It twisted as it flew over and in and out of the treetops, like a fish swimming through the rocks of a river, to the far end of the lake.

The beast then turned and flew just above the water towards Sir Primrow and I. We drew our swords and prepared to battle the beast. As it rapidly closed the distance towards us, I could see its fiery red eyes shining in the gloom of night. When it was less than ten feet from us, it opened its large fang filled jaws, and spewed forth a ball of fire at us. The fire hit Sir Primrow full on. The heat and flame were so intense Sir Primrow did not have the time to even cry out in pain.

I ran as fast as I could back to our camp. Our squires began to attend to my armor when I waved them off and told them we must depart at once. Before they could take down the tents, I heard the beasts' thunderous approach. Looking up, I saw the beast volitant above the clearing of our encampment. As the beast dove into the clearing, I yelled for the squires to run into the woods. Turning, I ran as I heard the same loud whooshing sound I heard prior to Sir. Primrow being incinerated. The blast of fire knocked me over a fallen tree. When I looked back to see that the beast had landed and was walking around our camp trampling tents and stands, as well as my squire, as it went. I must have passed out at that time, when I woke up the beast was gone. I could not find either of the squires or any of our horses. I slowly walked out of the valley, staying as close to the trees as possible in fear the beast may see me from above. Once out of the valley, I found a horse and rode it back here as quickly as I could.”

Sargoot tapped out his pipe and finished the last of his wine.

“What happened to Sir Glynowr, and the old woman?” Erhon asked, upset that his father had stopped telling the story without a good ending.

“According to the story, Sir Glynowr died right there on the spot. As the squires removed his back plate, they found that it had been burned to his skin, melting his doublet in the process.” Sargoot then added, “The doublet is a heavy linen jacket knights wore under their armor.

The king sent three, then four, then five knights into the valley to kill the beast. None of the knights returned or were ever seen again. Per the king, an envoy was sent to the neighboring kingdom asking their king, King Freyja, for knights to kill the dragon. The envoy told king Freyja that all but four of the king’s nights had perished. The king Freyja gathered all his nights and set out with the envoy. Only the king Freyja was not there to help but to take over the king’s castle and all his land. King Freyja made the valley of dragons off limits to everyone. Legend has it that the new king’s grandson would challenge knights to prove themselves by riding into the valley to prove their manhood.

“And that, my son, is the story of the dragons in the valley.” Sargoot told his son as he stood up. “Now it is time for us to sleep. Tomorrow we will take our game back to the village.”

Erhon put two more logs onto the fire, then clasped his hands behind his head and laid back. His mind was racked with thoughts of dragons until sleep overtook him.

The distant sound of a roar woke him a short time later. Erhon sat up and looked at his father, who was fast asleep. He was sure that he had heard the dragon, but his friends would not believe this. If he saw the dragon or killed it. The entire village would believe him, that, even though he was short, he was now a man. He grabbed the limb that still had leaves on it and lit the leaves afire. He knew the valley was less than an hour's hike from their encampment.

Erhon walked along the path he and his father had taken earlier but went left at the fork and not right. This alternative path was a direct route to the valley with no cliffs to climb down. Forty minutes into his walk, Erhon failed to notice the full moon was no longer lighting his way. The previous bright moonlight was now just dull orb behind the mist. Erhon had unknowingly walked into the valley. His torch had burned off all the leaves and branches and was now just burning the limb itself. He told himself that he would go a few more feet and then turn back.

Ahead of him, he saw what he thought were red lanterns shining in front of him. Erhon lifted his burning limb above his head and shouted.

“I am Erhon from the village of Cannich.” he watched as the two lanterns rose into the air and then seemed to float closer to him. Erhon heard a snort. Then the red lanterns disappeared from his view. A large, bright ball of flames came toward Erhon.

“Drag.” were his last thoughts.