Valley of the Dragon

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,” says Nigel. “Back when the witches were in favor, nobody even knew what a dragon was. It was the women, covens, that held dominion over the land. With their steaming cauldrons and spells from long past, witches were revered for their earthly intuition. They were the architects of humanity, men, the builders. People sought the witches' counsel and would leave sobbing of the miracles their eyes had seen. Covens could heal wounds the doctors could not. There were bountiful harvests, true fellowship, but no dragons.”

“What changed?” Asks his son, Jameston. He adjusts his tweed hat, then shoves his hands into his tweed pockets.

“The Brotherhood took reign. That’s when nature shifted and suddenly, there were dragons.” Nigel explains as he wields his ax into a thick log to make several smaller ones. His broad, giant stature resembles that of a lumberjack, especially now, though he’s a farmer by trade. His expression is serious.

“They crept slowly from the deep sea, and once upon the ocean’s surface they let out a God awful screech sending hot, vicious flames bursting from their mouth and nostrils. Son, every species has a choice between good and bad, but these creatures chose sheer malevolence. An army of vengeful dragons swarmed the Valley.”

Chop!

“Did they fight back?”

“How could they? There wasn’t an aircraft, a boat, nor foot these things couldn’t outrun. The Brotherhood convened, they prayed aloud that the God’s would have mercy on the souls of the Valley; but it was too late, and this invasion was their own doing. So as they say, reap what thou sow.”

Chop!

Nigel continues, “The dragons would swoop below the clouds and cry out that ear piercing shriek, and at once the people would disperse, ‘fore they knew what was to follow. Those evil, sky soaring lizards instilled a resounding fear in all of the Valley. The village square, homes, hell, even the churches; no place was safe from the heat they spewed.”

Chop!

“... And the witches?” Jameston inquires.

“They left. Their matriarchal rule was erased, denied; took their magic with them, and suppressed it until it was all but forgotten. Everyone else suffered in the Valley of the Dragon; day and night antagonized by their incessant watchful reptilian eye, except for The Brotherhood who’d managed to befriend the mortal, beastly enemies and form a treaty of sorts.”

Jameston's eyes are fixed narrowly upon his dad as he listens intently.

He continues, “So while the people of the Valley feared their spiteful new neighbors, members of The Brotherhood gained power from their alliance. The dragons possessed ancient knowledge from their underwater world. A world so ancient, time dare wouldn’t measure. Their knowledge held the key to all that existed and for a mere sacrifice, The Brotherhood could have unfettered access to it.”

“Like the sacrifices we read about in the bible?”

The ax swings from high above Nigel’s head and crashes down onto the tree stump, splitting one piece of wood into two.

“Just like them,” Nigel answers.

“So… who is The Brotherhood?” Jameston’s voice cracks. Embarrassed, he looks down at his exposed ankles that are hastily outgrowing his tweed pants.

Nigel smirks, amused by his son’s curiosity and recent metamorphosis.

“Member’s of The notorious Brotherhood consisted of men, entirely. Men that were quite fed up with feminine regime. Pillars of their tribe, wise in their own right, yet, governed by an energy completely unrelatable to them. They were ready to snip the metaphorical strings tethered tightly like a noose, to their bosomed puppet master.”

Jameston clears his throat, “But weren’t the witches good leaders?”

“Sure, they were good. Noble… but they ran a system nonetheless, and like many others, it had its faults.” Pointing at the heap of wooden blocks on the ground he orders Jameston, “into the barrel”. His son reaches down and begins collecting the chopped pieces of wood and hurling them into the barrel, as told. Nigel goes on, “Ultimately the men wanted to be in charge. See, it all started out as sporadic gatherings in the woods as the men fulfilled their duties. Labor and toil, tasks the women couldn’t easily do. One by one, they would commiserate, airing their grievances about the witches to each other.”

“Grievances?” He asks his father, searching for meaning.

“They felt the scales of justice were tipped in favor of the women. She sat high in the heavens on a throne next to the exalted one. He was perceived as nothing more than a dog. Chopping wood,” he motions towards the log, “hunting, masonry, hauling, tilling, lifting, carrying, protecting. Men were assigned the jobs that society was dependent on. They’d finally found the value in such leverage; and once realized, those gatherings became more frequent, attendees doubled week after week. Complaints about the coven’s superiority complex and burdening expectations grew rampant, practically becoming their tenet. While the women were at home communing with the spirits, the men were in the woods hatching an inconceivable plan.”

Jameston collects the last few pieces of wood and stops to ponder for a moment. Finally, “To take over?”

Nigel, “That’s right. The Brotherhood devised a plan and besieged the Valley, held hostage the women, and confiscated any tools they used to evoke their power. From wands to shovels, the women were stripped of all that made them prevail, including their sexuality.”

“And that’s when the dragons showed up?” Jameston asks.

“The very next day the first one was spotted flying above the lighthouse. The women either went underground or shrank into a shell of their former glorious selves, but their rule was over. The Valley became a shadow, it became an echo; and the sweet, honest warmth of a Mother’s love was replaced by fire breathing dragons,” Nigel states. He lifts up the barrel and pushes it towards the barn, “There aren’t many dragons left and though that sounds pleasant, it is likely not. Whatever energy has been lying dormant all this time, stifled, ridiculed, stewing, is ready to be unleashed. The Brotherhood won’t be able to stop the force, and there isn’t a sacrifice big enough to help them or the Valley for what we’ve allowed to happen. The next dragon to circle above the lighthouse will signify their final retreat; and an awakening of the past.”

Stunned, Jameston asks, “Are the witches coming back?”