The Dragon Awakes- a guest post by the phantom

The dragon slowly became aware that something was tugging insistently on his face. It wasn’t painful, more as if somebody had grabbed his mustache and was gently pulling on it. He opened one basketball-sized eye a crack and discovered a small boy, about eight years old, dressed in some sort of colorful costume. Clearly not his, the outfit didn’t come close to fitting properly. The little oil lamp on the ground was no better than it needed to be, clearly something seized from the trash and pressed into service. The boy had hold of his whiskers and was yanking as hard as he could. Being a dragon bigger than a city bus, it didn’t feel very hard. He opened his eye a little wider and looked at the boy, who froze in mid-yank.

    “Kid,” he inquired quietly, “do you really think that’s a good idea? Pulling on a dragon’s whiskers like that?”

    The boy let go and stepped back, putting his hands behind him.

    “That’s better,” said the dragon, then yawned widely. Teeth the length of the boy’s leg flashed briefly in the light of the lamp, long forked tongue curled up, then he smacked his lips a couple of times. “Ugh, jungle mouth,” he muttered.

    The boy backed up a couple more steps, but didn’t run away.

    The dragon looked at him skeptically. “Still here, kid?”

    “Ah, if it please you, your Greatness, I am sent here as a sacrifice to propitiate your righteous temper,” the boy stuttered. He was clearly reciting something he had been taught, hesitating on pro-pish-ee-ate in an attempt to get it right. “Please consume me, as is your right.”

    “You’re shitting me,” said George flatly, opening both eyes to examine the child closely. “Where’s your mom and dad?”

    The dragon was off-script. The boy got a panicked look on his face, because none of his lessons contained an answer for that. “Uhm,” he managed, and began nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

    “Let me guess,” said the dragon sourly. “Based on the shocking condition of you, you’re an orphan. The village elders keep you around to do all the shit jobs nobody else wants, and the sons of bitches beat you every day. They trained you with a bunch of fancy speeches and dressed you up in that monkey suit to keep me happy so I’ll do what they want. Right?”

    “Uhm, yes?” ventured the boy. “You’re supposed to eat me.”

    “Oh, well then. Let’s get right on that,” said the dragon sarcastically. “You want me to eat you?”

“It would be easier,” said the boy sadly. “They’ll kill me for sure if you don’t. They don’t like me, the villagers.”

    “Okay then,” said the dragon. “C’mere, kid. Let’s see what’s going on with you.” He reached out a foreleg and grasped the boy in a surprisingly dexterous forepaw. The child gave up completely, assuming the monster was going to bite him in half and resigned himself to death. The dragon sniffed at him, licked him with his immense forked tongue, looked into his eyes one at a time, then considered him at some length. “You are a mess. You’ve got damn near everything wrong with you there could be. I’m surprised you can walk.”

    “I’m sorry I’m not a good sacrifice, Great One. I’m not good at anything,” the boy sniffled.

    “Here now, no crying,” said the dragon sternly. “If you want to be a proper sacrifice you have to be brave. Buck up.” The dragon poked the boy gently with his nose, and the boy subsided. “That’s better. You’re a tough kid. Now, I have to test your blood. I’m going to take a single drop from your finger. Hold your hand up for me.”

    The boy dutifully held up his hand, and the dragon pricked a finger with one claw. It was so sharp the boy didn’t even feel it, then a drop of red swelled on his finger. The dragon carefully took the drop onto his tongue, then tasted it for a while.

    “Hmm,” he said as he tasted. “Malnutrition, rickets, worms, fractures, starvation, and there’s something weird going on with your liver. Flukes, maybe? Nope, sorry kid. Can’t eat you.”

    The boy was crestfallen at that.

    “Seriously, you’re sad I’m not going to eat you?” snorted the dragon. “Tell you what. You can be my assistant. First job you have is to hold still while I fix all that stuff that’s wrong with you. You’re no use if you’re fainting from hunger all over the place.”

    The dragon rolled his eyes and felt around in his mouth with his tongue, then extruded a large dollop of viscous purple goo onto the forked end. This he slathered on the child liberally from head to foot, front and back. The boy made a face because it was slimy, but it sank into his clothing and skin leaving him clean and dry.

    “That’s better,” said the dragon as he surveyed his work. The boy’s colour was already improving as a billion nanobots invaded his tissues and began the long job of repairing all the damage there. “Ready to go to work?”

    “As you wish, Great One,” said the boy bowing. “What would you like me to do?”

    “We’re going to go have a word with the geniuses who thought it would be a good idea to wake a sleeping dragon,” he said with an evil glint in his eye. “Then I’m going to get a coffee. You’re going to find me a coffee shop. Sounds good?”

    “Yes sir!” said the boy enthusiastically. Going for coffee sounded a lot better than being eaten, whatever coffee was.

#

The dragon put the little boy with his busted pottery lamp on the top of his head, between the antlers. From there he would light the way as they made their way to the surface. It was a comfy spot, as big as an overstuffed chair. Lots of fur to sit on, and the roots of his antlers to grab onto. The boy held the old lamp carefully to be sure the oil didn’t spill out of the cracked lid, keeping the burning wick from singing the dragon’s fur.

The dragon had awoken in a grand hall with a high ceiling and rich carvings on the walls. Heroic statues of the Gods of Asgard stood between fluted pillars. The rock walls were marble, cut and polished to a high sheen that glistened in the lamplight. The ceiling was vaulted like that of a cathedral, a great dome with ribs that started down on the floor and soared to the pinnacle in graceful arcs. It was tall enough that the dragon could sit up on his back legs and stretch his neck full length. Over to one side there was an archway leading to a tunnel large enough to provide him passage if he went on all fours.

The dragon spent a good few minutes surveying the hall, looking at all the statues carefully, and pausing in front of a few of them as if he recognized them. When he got to the statue with the goat-drawn chariot and the big hammer he snorted with amusement. “What a musclehead,” he muttered and moved on to the next.

The little boy clung tightly to the oil lamp in one hand and an antler with the other. The dragon was moving his head so smoothly the boy felt he could have balanced there standing up, but it was quite some distance to the floor so he held on just to be sure.

“So, boy,” the dragon asked as he continued his examination of the hall, “any idea who carved all this stuff?”

“If it please your greatness, it is said that the hall was made by the dark elves long ago,” he answered. “They came from Svartálfheim to make it. Carved from the living rock, while you slumbered there in the middle.”

“You’re kidding,” the dragon retorted, rolling his eyes to try to see the boy’s expression. “I know those guys. It seems extremely unlikely they would do that.”

“The elders told me this,” shrugged the little boy, starting to relax as the dragon showed no signs of wanting to eat him. “All I know is that the cave which leads here is all carven. Right from the mouth on the mountain to this great hall. Part marble, part common stone. More than a mile, great one. It has many turns within it, and the waters gather in fountains and rivers. In some places even the flagging of the road is carved into pictures.”

“Yeah, they get bored,” said the dragon absently, peering closely at a carving of a god with a hammer calling lightning down on a snake. “They’re also the most amazing liars. See this one here?” he indicated the carving. “I was there that day. Big boy with the hammer didn’t show. A bunch of girls beat that thing.”

“Maybe they lied to make you angry,” suggested the boy. “You would know this for an empty boast.”

“Maybe,” mused the dragon, bringing his head closer to the carving to examine the detail. “Or maybe they wanted me sit here searching every carving for clues. They have a lot of time on their hands. They’ll have made up some complicated thing that’ll end badly.” He turned from the carving and proceeded directly out through the arched doorway. “When in doubt, drive on.”

As the boy had said, the long tunnel rose and fell, zigged and zagged, had long curving sections and right-angle corners, every inch of it carved with beasts and gods of legend. The more spectacular the carving, the more extravagant the depiction, the more the dragon paid no attention to it and strode past. “Here’s a piece of advice for your future, kid,” he said as they passed by a mural of brilliant tiles that glittered with precious metals in the lamplight. “The more a guy tries to make you look at something, the more you should wonder why he wants you to look at it.”

“I’m going to have a future?” the little boy asked bravely.

“Did I go to all the trouble of tasting your blood and everything just to eat you later?” snorted the dragon with amusement.

“Well, I don’t know,” muttered the boy with a touch of resentment at being made fun of like that. “I’ve never seen a real dragon before. Who can say what you might do?”

“Touché,” granted the dragon amiably. “Well, anyway, the sparklier and louder these pictures get, the more you want to ask yourself why those elves went to all this trouble. Knowing how elves are, these are all traps. You spend a while looking at it, and you might want to kill yourself. Or kill somebody else, they like doing that too. They’re bored, right? It’s an ugly thing, boredom.”

“Dragon,” the boy asked, “why were you asleep down there?”

“Dunno,” he said absently, maneuvering his length around a right-angle corner in the tunnel. “Can’t remember, if I’m honest. I’m pretty suspicious to hear that dark elves are involved. If you ever see one, run away. They’re a lot worse than me, I’ll tell you that.”

“Worse than a dragon?” the boy wondered. “How can that be? Dark elves are not huge and mighty like you.”

“They’re sneaky,” said the dragon with lowered brows, and then said no more.

It took the dragon about half an hour to meander through the tunnel, past all the fountains and murals, statues and relief carvings, to exit into the noonday sun on the side of a mountain. Tall doors of oak and iron lay open to either side of the tunnel, flanked by statues of armored women with swords and grim expressions on their beautiful faces. Twenty feet tall, depicted wearing short skirts of weighted leather straps, swords raised in one hand, round shields at the ready. The one on the right wore a winged helm, the one on the left was bare headed and had an owl sitting on her shoulder, a bundle of javelins on her back showed over her shoulder.

The dragon smiled proudly at the sight. “There’s my girls,” he murmured, reaching to touch their stone faces with his forefoot. “Nice statues, eh kid? The boys did a good job here.”

“The village elders told me that the warrior on the right is the Queen of the Valkyrja, and the one on the left is the goddess of wisdom,” said the boy uncomfortably. “I do not see how that can be. The Valkyrja ride through the town all the time. Their Queen is an old lady. The goddess of wisdom is a demoness who serves ale at the inn down the road. Last stop before Niflheim, it is said.”

“Nice to hear that the Valkyrja are out riding around in Valhalla,” said the dragon, looking out over the landscape. A couple of miles away there was a tiny village of ten houses or so around a building next to a mountain stream. It had a water wheel, making it the mill. A mixture of sacks and squared logs lying around it showed they were cutting lumber and milling grain in the same location. “How does that town have enough people to even have elders?” he wondered.

“It’s the miller,” said the boy. “He is vassal to the laird of the valley, but he has all the money, so everyone does what he says. The town grannies have a knitting council and tell him what to do, but he pays them no mind.”

“Where do you fit in?” wondered the dragon.

“My parents were debtors when they died of pox,” he shrugged. “I am bound until I pay their debt to the miller. That’s what they tell me, anyway. I’ve heard a different version from some when they drink mead. My mother was coveted by the miller and she and my father died in a big fight. Some of the miller’s men have scars, so it seems equally likely. Most of them hate me, so there was bad blood somewhere.”

“And why did they want to awaken a sleeping dragon?” he wondered, eyeing the mill. “Seems stupid, don’t you think?”

“I think they were hoping you would eat me and then go back to sleep,” said the little boy sadly. “That’s what the stories say. The village propitiates the dragon with a sacrifice, then it slumbers on.”

“But nobody can remember the last time, so they’re not sure,” nodded the dragon, his head bobbing pleasantly and making the little boy giggle. “What’s your name, kid?”

“I am called ‘boy’’ by all the villagers,” he sighed. “Even the other children call me that when they throw stones at me. It has been so since my parents died. Before that my mother did not say my name, lest a sorcerer gain power over me. Two more winters until my Naming Day, great dragon. I am only eight winters now. Two since my parents died.”

“Okay,” agreed the dragon. “I see how it is. What do you say if we take a little walk down to town and burn the mill to the ground?”

“All the farmers and towns up and down the valley will starve,” said the boy practically. “Thirty miles or more to the next mill, great one. Three days with an ox and cart.”

“Is that a problem for you?” asked the dragon. He took the boy off his head and put him on the ground, observing him closely. “I’d say, based on your story, that they’ve been asking for it.”

“Some give me food,” he shrugged listlessly. “Some beat me. The miller is like a demon, he beats me whenever he can. I wouldn’t mind seeing him starve.”

“Not bad for an eight-year-old,” said the dragon with approval. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“What will you do?” wondered the boy as the dragon put him up on his head again.

“Whatever the hell I want,” laughed the dragon. “They woke me, so I’m going to jack them up for whatever they’ve got, just because. Always remember kid, you can get more with a smile and a gun than you can with just a smile. Being a dragon is the biggest gun you can get.”

#

A Clean Getaway

As the dragon had said, the negotiations went entirely in his favor. The boy was riding on the dragon’s head again, now wearing proper clothing for traveling instead of the ceremonial costume. Some distance behind the dragon there followed a fine riding horse, formerly the miller’s pride and joy. The dragon was leading it on a long rope from its halter, the dragon had insisted on tack to go with his new mount, of course. Tied to the saddle was a wooden coffer containing twelve gold crowns, each fat coin stamped with the king’s head on one side and the holy tree Yggdrasil on the other. There was also a good sword of workmanlike quality. It had decent steel, not like the flashy one with gems on the hilt that the miller wore, even though he wasn’t supposed to.  

Thanks to the dragon setting fire to a forest pine with one languid puff of his breath, the boy had been clothed from the miller’s chests and fed from the miller’s larder, the best meal of his life. No wonder the miller and his wife were fat.

The dragon was humming an odd tune to himself as they walked down the valley, and the boy was feeling drowsy from all the rich food. They were going down to the last inn on the road, to seek wisdom from the demoness. The boy privately thought that trusting a demoness was the purest folly, everyone said nothing good came from them. But the dragon had laughed and said “we’ll see, kid,” and that had been that.

They had ambled along for almost a mile to an open section where rail fences lined the road from the fields on either side, when they heard a clatter of horses behind them. The dragon turned himself around and pulled his skittish new horse in to stand trembling next to him. The dragon petted the horse absently as a man might comfort a small dog, and to his amazement the boy saw the animal settle right down. The horse even rubbed his cheek against the dragon’s scales. “That is a wonder, Great One,” he said respectfully.

“I’m cheating,” chuckled the dragon. “I’ve created a scent that horses like and rubbed it on him. Now he’s happy for a little while. It’ll wear off later, and he’ll remember I’m a horse-eating monster.”

“Still, I’ve never seen him behave so well,” marveled the little boy. “He’s spoiled. He kicks too.”

“Rich man’s pet,” nodded the dragon. “Oh well, he’s mine now. We’ll teach him to behave properly. No problem.”

The riders who followed crested a hill and caught sight of the dragon. Two hundred feet of saurian might, standing tall between the fences. Green scales glittering in the afternoon sun, his mane of golden hair flowing gracefully and showing his antlers to good effect, his great eyes flashing with intelligence, and the grin on his face promising mischief. A presentation of many contrasts.

“Oi! You!” shouted the rider in the lead, spurring her horse forward and signaling the rest to follow. The twelve riders were all women, hard faced under their helms and hard muscled from a life in the saddle and the battlefield. They galloped up and reigned in late, coming to rest far too close to the dragon, mere steps away. “By Surtur’s flaming beard, dragon! What in the nine hells are you doing here?!”

“Hey girls,” he chuckled, waving to them jauntily. “How’s it going?”

“None of your cheek!” commanded the first in line, frowning darkly. “You are not supposed to be here, jester. How came you hence?”

“Well, I woke up this morning in a cave not far from here, the one carved by dark elves, the kid here tells me.” He indicated the little boy, who was trying to make himself very small between the dragon’s antlers. “He was yanking on my whiskers. Told me some tale of being a willing sacrifice, and I was supposed to eat him.”

“I told you that miller was bent,” one of the other women told the one in the middle. “What a sorry excuse for a man.”

“That is unwelcome news,” said a voice in the back. An older woman, tall and strong but with a face lined with age and white in her blonde braids drew her horse to the fore. She faced the dragon with a calm expression. “I greet you, dragon.”

“Your majesty,” he said in reply, and to the little boy’s surprise he bowed to her. “You and the girls are looking pretty good today, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I don’t mind,” she replied, expression not changing. “What have you been doing?”

“Jacking up the miller,” the dragon said with a grin. “I didn’t take all the gold in the village, but his face was red when I was done.”

“Yes, so I heard. His screaming and the smoke from that lone tree summoned us from miles away.” she nodded. “Impressive restraint for a dragon. Still, you must have been angry.”

“I’m taking it easy today,” he nodded, sobering. “No need to go hog wild and wreck the place, right? Not yet, anyway.”

“Perhaps,” she nodded. “Still, the affront weighs upon your spirit. I thank you for your forbearance, great dragon.”

“You are entirely welcome, your Majesty,” he said, cheering up and grinning again. “Kid, may I present her Majesty the Queen of the Valkyrja, known far and wide as the Stone Maiden of Asgard. Your majesty, this is my new assistant, a young man of great promise, who has not had his naming day. Will you kill me if I tell him your secret nickname?”

“I will not,” she replied evenly. “Still, many ears are flapping and many tongues will be wagging if you do, so I will give you a hearty smack on the head in recompense.”

“She loves me,” the dragon snickered to the little boy, who eyed the stern-faced Queen doubtfully. “Unfortunately, she’s right about all the rest of it. She can tell you some day, if she wants to.”

“Shut up,” she said and looked away abruptly, cheeks becoming rosy.

“Idiot,” muttered the other woman who had spoken first, putting a supportive hand on the Queen’s shoulder. “So, jester, should we expect to find the woods teeming with dragon-spawned monsters?”

“Well, you never know about that,” he said thoughtfully, becoming serious again. “It’s been a busy morning. There’s a cave that was carved by dark elves, who clearly had a lot of time on their hands to get every inch of the place like that. Orphans to be rescued from durance vile, me being here where I’m not supposed to be, you being here too, there’s a lot going on. Could be the odd giant spider wandering around, right? Or maybe not. Either way, not your problem.”

“Oh, well then,” she scoffed at him. “Hear that, girls? Not our problem!”

That got him jeers and pokes from the odd spear butt, as the Valkyrja voiced their opinions of his statement.

“Huh,” he said, obviously surprised. “Hey kid. Looks like we have new babysitters. Didn’t see that coming.”

“If we don’t stay and mind you, you’ll wander off and fall down a well like stupid sheep,” she told him irritably. “What are we doing, dragon?”

“I’m going for coffee,” he said, and shrugged. “Do you think they have any at the crappy inn down the road? I hear it’s a real dive.”

“We shall all go and see,” said the Queen, recovered from her blushing and stern once more. “The demoness will know if there is coffee to be had, that much is sure.”

“All right!” enthused the dragon. “Off we go! Which one of you beauties wants to carry my assistant while I confer with Her Majesty here?” He put his head down so they could reach.

“Um,” objected the little boy, seized off the dragon’s head by the woman in the middle. “Hello?” he managed unsurely.

“I’ll have him,” she told the dragon. “You shall ride on my fine horse with me, good sir,” she told the boy. “Right here in the front, where I can keep a good grip on you.” She settled him in behind the pommel of the saddle, right in her lap. “There you are. Comfy?” She grinned at him cheekily, enjoying his concern with the situation. “Not to worry, brave lad. I can’t be more fearsome that a dragon, can I?”

“Well, no,” he admitted, “but I have heard many tales of the Valkyrja, and how fierce you are.”

“I’ve heard those tales too,” she snorted. “All nonsense, my boy. Although to be fair, I am quite short with liars. And lechers, thieves, scoundrels, and so forth. You seem a bit young for any of that, if you don’t mind me saying. Also, the dragon did not eat you. That is a mark in your favor.”

“Um, if I may ask, great lady,” he assayed, because he felt he needed to know, “Is the dragon safe? I mean, he says he won’t eat me, but he did get quite angry at the miller just now.”

“The dragon is a pile of sentimental mush,” she scoffed, and pointed at him accusingly when he raised a scaly eyebrow at her. “Yes you are, don’t pretend otherwise, oaf!” She aimed a kick at his ribs, which he avoided with a subtle side-step, assuming a hurt expression which gained laughter from some of the other women. “Naught but a great pudding,” she continued to the boy, rolling her eyes. “Unless an innocent like yourself is endangered, or one of his mates. Then we see the other side of him, the implacable destroyer. So, brave little one, the truth of the matter is, you are safe. The miller is lucky. You understand?”

“He’s not that lucky,” said the boy without thinking. “The dragon has the miller’s horse and tack, and half his strongbox on its saddle.”

“What will riches avail, if one has no head?” wondered the Valkyrja. “That one came within an inch of winding up in Hela’s throne room today. She’d have given him the back of her hand too, I can tell you that.”

“Do you know Hela?” asked the little boy with wide eyes. The Queen of the Dead was known far and wide, the merciless giantess and her dog Garmr, fastest beast in the Nine Realms.

“I certainly do,” smirked the woman and blushed a little bit thinking about it. “Trust me when I say the tales do her no justice, little one. She is a magnificent woman, tall and strong, with the most graceful limbs and the fairest countenance. Many a fine guesting I have had with her, I assure you.”

“They say she eats people,” the little boy replied doubtfully.

“I know they say that,” she nodded. “They also say I’m fiercer than a hundred tigers. Does that seem likely?”

“Well, no,” he conceded, looking up at her. “But maybe you are, too. If there were bad men, then you might be.”

“Look who is a little sage,” she said and held him tight with both arms. “Maybe you might be right, little one. I hope we do not find out today.”

#

The Valkyrja took charge of leading the dragon’s new horse, and looking after his new assistant. They went ahead of him and the Queen toward the inn, leaving the Queen on her horse to confer with the dragon.

“So, what’s new?” he asked her when the rest were out of earshot.

“A dragon has awoken in Valhalla,” snorted the Queen with sour amusement. “No doubt the forests and fields fairly bristle with monsters of immense cheek. Ragnarök is waving at us from behind the next hill.”

“No, I mean how long have you been back here?” he asked, rolling his eyes at her response. “I woke up in a cave that took a thousand years to carve!”

“I know,” she said, glancing up at his impatient expression. “The realm celestial does not move as the realm mundane, great dragon. Here, cause need not precede effect, action may not beget reaction. Here, all may not be as it seems.”

“Is that why we’re sticking to the no-names thing?” he asked, and snorted smoke from his nostrils when she nodded. “That’s so irritating. No point wondering what’s going on, I suppose?”

“It is a surprise to me,” she said calmly. “You are quite the last person I expected to see today, Great One. Mayhap our demoness will have wisdom for us.”

“You’re keeping the stone-face thing going pretty good,” he observed, peering at her sidelong. “Somebody twisting your tail lately? Maybe I could pound a few people for you?”

“No one of any note,” she said, allowing a small smile to curve her lips. “If you see the mighty hero Sigurd in your travels you could clout him for me, that would be satisfying.”

“Okay then,” the dragon nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Nice set of bruises for friggin’ lover-boy Sigurd, check.” He looked her up and down the way a man might with a woman he liked. “Looking fine for an old lady, your Majesty. Want me to give you a nice squeeze?”

“Yes, but we have things to do, improper lout,” she said, her smile widening. She glanced up at him and looked a hundred years younger. “How do they put up with you at home?”

“I’m fabulous at home,” he said and gave her a poke with his nose. “They love every minute. Tell you what, everybody gets a squeeze when we get to the crappy inn. Poor old demoness will probably need one, am I right?”

“She is better seen to now than previously,” the Queen told him, sitting up proudly on her saddle. “Certain men have learned their proper place, certain women have stopped hiding from the world behind high walls, and do come for the odd visit now and again. Certain Valkyrja have been lavish with their attention, I must say.”

“Progress,” nodded the dragon. “And I’m here today because somebody doesn’t like this, I take it?”

“Perhaps,” she nodded. “Or just for a visit? I have missed you, improper one.”

“Yeah?” he asked hopefully. It was quite an expression to see on the face of a monster so large, the surprise at being desired by so fine a woman. “Pretty cool of you to say so, queenie.”

“If you start being funny with my titles I shall have to scold you most severely,” she said, schooling her face to a look of stern disapproval. “It might take several hours.”

“I’ll race you to the inn,” he said immediately. “Last one there gets squashed.”

“Impertinence!” she accused him, shaking her finger. “We shall proceed sedately with all due decorum, as befits my high station. When we arrive, the Valkyrja will take turns telling you off as befits your station, mirthful one. Jesters must be dealt with severely.”

“I’ll go quietly,” he said, a foolish grin fairly splitting his head from side to side. “This day is certainly looking up, your Majesty.”

“Isn’t it?” she sighed and put a fond hand on his side. “I shall warm myself at your fire for a little while and take the chill off my bones. Already you have brought a bloom to my cheek, beloved.”

“All part of the service,” he said quietly, deeply moved by her appreciation.

They walked on in silence for a while, until he had a chilling thought. “Did I die, do you think? At home, I mean. That would explain me waking up here.”

“If you were here after death, all the forests would be filled with spirits come to pay homage, beloved.” She smiled up at him, calming his concern. “The path from here to Helheim’s gates would be lined with them, cheering you on. Even the wolves and goblins would honor you. This is probably a dream, my dear.”

“Pretty good dream,” he said, looking around. “Better than average, if I’m honest.”

“Did you think you would meet the Queen of the Valkyrja and nothing in your life would change?” she asked archly, poking his ribs. “To say nothing of the others, gods and goddesses of legend. Beings so old and so mighty their names are not even known by mortals. It is not surprising your dreams would be thus.”

“Good point,” he nodded. “So tell me, great Queen. Are you doing alright here without all of us lippy kids getting in your business?”

“I abide in patience,” she said, and shrugged. “You will all be along to join me soon enough. No need to rush, great dragon.”

“Just checking,” he said and nodded thoughtfully. “Pretty glad to not be dead though. That might be tough.”

“When your time comes, you will be fine,” she told him. “No point in worrying about it, my dear. What else is on your mind?”

“My new assistant,” he said, looking forward to where the little boy was riding on the shoulders of a Valkyrja woman, laughing with delight. “Those bastards sent him to die, your Majesty. Chances are good that I won’t be here for long. Who’s going to look after him?”

“You think those thirsty women will let him escape?” she snorted with amusement. “He is a little gem, my dear. His future is assured, now that he has met us. My sisters in arms will see him to adulthood, never fear.”

“Good,” grunted the dragon. “I feel like he’s important somehow, and he’s familiar. He reminds me of someone.”

“The realm celestial is tricky, great dragon. Who knows what that little boy might be, or from where? But now that he is mine, he will be raised as a prince. Hunting, swordplay, the arts, letters and numbers, all will be granted unto him.” She bowed in the direction of the little boy and his new guardians. “So be it.”

“Awesome,” said the dragon with heartfelt satisfaction. “Would a new horse and a few gold coins make life easier? I probably can’t take it with me, know what I mean?”

“I think it likely those things are his birthright, robbed from him along with his parents,” she said. “Give it to the demoness and ask her for a song, great dragon. She will know what to do.”

“I like that plan,” he nodded. “Demon girl is the bomb.”

“You are so silly,” sighed the Queen, and held out her arms to him. “I can’t wait any more, you must squash me now.”

“By your command, great Queen,” he chuckled. He plucked her off her horse and wound her up in his coils.

#

Down the road, the little boy was having fun being passed from one Valkyrja to another, then riding on their shoulders. He glanced back to see the dragon had wrapped himself around the Queen and had a hold of her shoulder with his huge teeth. “Oh no! By your leave mistress, the dragon is eating your queen!”

“Already?” she said in surprise and looked back at the dragon. “She’s getting her innings now, while she can,” the warrior told the little boy. “See her face? That is not the look of someone being consumed. He’s nibbling on her, the cheeky bounder.”

“She does seem happy,” the little boy said doubtfully. “Is he hugging her?”

“At least,” chuckled the woman. “How about a hug for you, young man?” She held him before her on her saddle and wrapped her arms around him for a nice squeeze. “That is what our Queen is having. I’m looking forward to one like it from him presently. He owes me at least that after making us all gallop for miles.”

“This is very different from what the tales say,” the little boy told her, enjoying his hug. “Dragons are huge and breath fire, the Valkyrja are ferocious and always seeking battle. Their Queen drinks from the skulls of her enemies, that’s what they say.”

“Yes, and so surprising to find all the tales are balderdash isn’t it?” she laughed. “Who would think the great dragon of legend to be such a jester? But there he is, nibbling on my poor Queen and making her giggle.”

“I was sore afraid before,” the little boy said in a small voice. “He’s so big, mistress. But he loves you, doesn’t he?”

“More than you know, little one,” she sighed and turned forward. “He has a heart as big as the world, that one. Room enough for all us old women, and for you too.”

“Me?” asked the little boy in surprise. “I’m nobody!”

“You are all you need to be, my little sprout,” she told him and kissed his cheek. “Beloved of the dragon, and the Valkyrja too. How would you like to have all of us for aunties, eh? And my Queen for your guardian. Would that be fun?”

The little boy just looked up at her, shocked to hear such an offer. “Truly?” he begged, sure that it was a rough jest but forced to hope anyway.

She looked down on him, and a great fire of anger built in her eyes. Not anger at him, but at what had befallen him. “Truly,” she vowed. “You shall choose, little one, and we of the Valkyrja shall abide. “I will give you until we get to the inn to make up your mind, little boy. It is too much to ask of you, but needs must.”

“Yes, please,” he whispered to her, fear of being rejected filling him and closing his throat.

“Yes, is it?” she growled, grinding her teeth. “So be it. My sisters will be pleased. Don’t mind me, beloved, I’m a little angry to see you frightened, that’s all.”

“You are fiercer than a thousand tigers,” he whispered and then cried on her doublet, gripping on so tight that death itself could not tear him away.

“Oi, dragon!” the Valkyrja called, trotting her horse back to where her Queen was emerging from his coils and straightening her riding jacket. “He’s ours now, alright?” she shouted, indicating the little boy clutching her jacket. “Never to be parted!”

“I was going to make a proclamation, but you’ve beaten me to it,” said the Queen as the dragon nodded his approval. “You offered, did you?”

“Aye, and he said yes!” she shouted to her sisters in arms, gathering around on their horses.

“So be it!” they all answered, fists in the air. A few spears were thrust at the sky for punctuation.

“So be it,” agreed the Queen. “Well, that’s settled. On we go, my dears. Our demoness awaits.”

The dragon poked the little boy with his nose. “Hey kid, you like my girls huh?”

The little boy didn’t lift his head, just nodded into the Valkyrja’s doublet.

“Well, that’s good,” The dragon nodded sagely.  “How about me? You like me?”

“He likes you,” the woman assured him as the little boy gripped her tight and tried to say yes. “I’m a bit put out at the treatment he’s been getting. I hope you squeezed that miller for every drop of blood, dragon.”

“As much as I thought I could get away with,” the dragon agreed seriously. “I was going to blast the lot of them to hell, but the kid reminded me the valley would starve. Her Majesty said the screaming could be heard for some distance.”

“Like a stuck pig he was,” she grimaced as the Queen laughed. “I’m tempted to go back and make him scream some more, let me tell you.”

“Vengeance avails thee naught,” said the dragon, holding up a forefoot to indicate it was a quote. “Somebody cool told me that once. I’d say her name, but she might arrive here with fire in her eye and start kicking the place apart.”

“We all know who you mean,” said the first Valkyrja, rolling her eyes. “Another great pudding she is, squashy and sentimental just the same as you are, trickster. The Wolf of Vengeance, forsooth. A jest of the Gods, dragon.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said sheepishly, hanging his head down because she’d called him on his quotation. “But anyway, we’re going to go get coffee and let shit-for-brain miller guy flip out on his own, agreed? No sneaking off to get some payback later.” He poked the Valkyrja holding the little boy with his nose again. “Gimme back my assistant, tough chick. I want him to meet some people when we get to the inn. Hey kid, relax. They’re not going to dump you in a snowbank, you get me? They said ‘so be it!’ and everything, you’re good.” He copied their serious intonation so well that the little boy giggled in the middle of crying.

“Truly?” he begged, emerging from hiding against her doublet to look into her eyes.

“I swore, didn’t I?” she snorted. “That’s all you get, you little cheeky face.” She grasped his cheek and tugged gently. “Go sit on the dragon now, and stop dripping on me. I’ll melt away to nothing, otherwise.” She lifted him and deposited him on the dragon’s head. “Now get on with you. We must feed him soon, and the inn keeper is as slow as a winter toad. Hurry up.” Then she looked away and swiped at her own eyes, pretending it was a bit of dust making her weep.

“Come on kid,” said the dragon, lifting his head and proceeding down the road. “Not much farther now.”

Smelling the Coffee

Another half an hour’s walk brought the old inn into sight down the valley. The building had seen better days. It was black with age, the timbers ancient, the roof peak sagging in the middle, the thatching ragged. As they drew nearer the little boy saw there was a broad porch out front next to the road, and a long railing to hitch the horses. Some newer outbuildings surrounded the old central structure, horse barns for customer’s mounts, and little cottages to house the help.

On the porch there was a round table with benches, where several women sat at their ease taking afternoon refreshment. Three old blind ladies, wizened and hunched.  A horned demoness with auburn hair who was playing gentle tune on a lute, middle aged and shapely. A tall woman so strong and burly she must have been a blacksmith, next to her a slender warrior woman in leather, hung about with daggers, and a spectacular demoness with the blackest hair the little boy had ever seen. But on the edge of the porch there sat a giantess too large for the benches. Even seated thus, her head was level with the other women.

As the procession of Valkyrja and dragon arrived, the women looked up expectantly. “I told you the portents were dire,” said the giantess, raising her eyebrow at the dragon. “And look who it is.”

“Much worse than we thought,” agreed the dark-haired demoness, rising to put her arms around the dragon’s neck. “Greetings, beloved. Her Majesty did summon us here to see what had created such a commotion in the heavens, the signs and stars all pointing to danger and destruction.”

“Hey girls,” he said with a mischievous grin, hanging his head over the demonesses’ shoulder to smirk at them. “How’s tricks?”

“Cheek!” exclaimed the three blind women. “By the Gods, is that Nobody?” demanded the one closest to the dragon.

“Hell yeah it is,” he chuckled, reaching his head over to rub his big cheek on her. “Hi grandma. Good to see you.”

“Where’s my eye?” she demanded, holding out her hand. The one next to her opened a little box and dropped an eye into her hand. She held it up and pointed it at the dragon. “There he is. Cheeky face! And who is this poor little boy you have captured on your head?”

“This is my assistant,” the dragon explained. “He’s keeping me out of trouble today.”

“He’s got his work cut out for him,” snickered the demoness still hugging his neck. “Little boy, dost thou know that this dragon is the greatest jester in all Midgard? Gods, goddesses, heroes and villains alike he has made jokes upon. Not the high and mighty nor the low and humble have escaped his wit.”

“Is this another of your japes, dragon?” demanded the old woman pointing the eye at him. “I can’t wait to hear the punch line.”

“This one might be getting played on me,” he admitted thoughtfully, observing the assembled women. Each one a goddess in her own right. “The sun and moon couldn’t make it?”

“They’re busy,” said the old woman tartly. “It’s still daylight, jester, and the moon is rising.”

“Obviously,” said the one sitting next to her, looking off in the wrong direction. “They sent their followers.”

“Idiot,” muttered the third and rolled her blind eyes, a very teenaged expression for such an old woman.

“Why are you all here then?” he wondered, lifting a foreleg to put around the tall demoness. She was clinging to him longer than expected, it seemed she missed him.

“Did you think a dragon could arise in Valhalla and we wouldn’t be here?” asked the giantess with a small smile. “The signs have been foretelling your coming for a whole season. Nearly standing up in the night and baying it for all to hear.”

“The forest creatures are growing their coats extra thick, preparing for a hard winter,” remarked the woman clad all in leather. “Squirrels putting up extra nuts, otters digging their burrows deeper, and so forth. I thought it could be that the Fimbulwinter approached, but it turns out to be only you. My cart horse and I came along in case you needed telling off.” But then she winked at him, and her brawny companion scoffed and elbowed her with an expression of patience at a being called a cart horse, so the communication was a bit confused.”

“If I’m that big a deal, why aren’t the Big Boys here to deal with me?” he asked, raising his own eyebrow. He was beginning to suspect there was a joke, and it was indeed on him.

“The god of war and the god of thunder were invited to push off,” the brawny blonde told him, flexing her shoulders suggestively. “Since our dark beauty has escaped their chains, things are running a little differently here in the celestial realms. Now they tend to their own business, rather than getting in mine quite so much.”

“How about you?” he asked the auburn-haired lute player, still calmly strumming her tune as she listened to the conversation. “Anything to add?”

“I dwell here in peace with my beloved dark beauty,” she said with a little shrug. “All these fine ladies do come to visit us betimes, and have guesting here with us at the inn. The Valkyrja seek our company as well, and the inn has become a merry place indeed.”

“That is excellent news,” said the dragon, and bowed to her. “But I was more wondering if you might have wisdom for me and my assistant here. The kid is having a hard day, right?”

“I’m alright,” the little boy piped up, and put a hand on the dragon’s eyebrow. “Honestly, great dragon, I am.”

“He’s terrified,” the Queen off the Valkyrja told them dryly. “My mad followers have taken him for their own, and he scarcely knows which way is up.”

“And he is sitting on a dragon’s head,” snickered the giantess, covering her smile with a graceful hand. She held out her arms to him and beckoned. “How would you like to sit upon the knee of a monarch, my boy? Will you brave my forbidding mein?”

“She’s begging you, kid,” the dragon whispered to the little boy. “The old girl is dying to have you sit on her knee.”

“Is she really the Queen?” he wondered, then shrugged and accepted her request, standing up to be taken into her arms.

“I am most certainly the Queen,” she told him, settling him comfortably. “Everyone says so.”

“They’ve been telling the most dreadful lies about you,” the little boy told her, looking up into her eyes. “The stories aren’t true at all, are they?”

“Some are a little bit true,” she said regretfully. “It is true that I never came out of my castle for a long time. It is also true that I do not have much patience with liars and cheats. But, once upon a time a young man came to my halls and sat with me, even as you are doing now, and told me nothing but the truth.”

“Then what happened?” he wondered, being a little cautious because she was a queen, after all.

“Then I married him,” she said in a matter-of-fact sort of way that had all the other women laughing. “A most agreeable young man, to be sure.”

“Where did he go?” asked the boy, sad that the Queen’s husband wasn’t there with her.

“Well, that is a complicated thing,” she confided. “In a way, I have not yet met him. But in another way I met him long ago. This celestial realm where we dwell is a peculiar place, my dear. Things do not necessarily follow as one might expect.”

“Oh,” he said, thinking about it. “Well, I could tell you the truth. Would that help?”

“I am sure it would,” she said gravely, then hugged the little boy with great care. “Dragon, it seems you have found a pearl of great price.”

“Yeah,” the great beast agreed, nodding. “So it seems. He’s been quite a help to me today. What do you think, goddess of the lute?”

“I?” she asked demurely. “You seek wisdom from this humble minstrel, mighty dragon?”

“No one better to ask, holy one,” he told her and bowed again.

“Sadly, I have no wisdom to tell,” she said. “All is shrouded in mystery, and even the all-seeing eye of Fate is clouded.”

“As if we were blind,” snickered one of the old blind women, gaining laughter from the other two.

“Oh well,” said the dragon. “Any chance of a coffee then?”

“Here?” laughed the brawny blonde goddess, gesturing to the open fields and the ancient inn. “As well ask for strawberries in January.”

“Play him a song, my dear,” said the demoness with the dark hair, going to the lute player and kissing her cheek. “That will be the thing, will it not?

“Aye, that’s it,” agreed the queen of the Valkyrja. “What will be your price, dear demoness?”

“I will say when I hear the song he wants,” she said and grinned at him.

“Cliffs of Dover,” said the dragon with a perfectly straight face.

All eyes went to the auburn-haired demoness. “You want me play that here?” she asked, skeptically.

“If you can,” he said, his grin challenging her.

“He’s being cheeky again,” said one of the elderly women. The Queen of the Valkyrja snorted with amusement and elbowed the dragon in the ribs.

“Very well,” said the demoness standing to face him. “Hear now my price, impertinent one. I shall require a small boy, about eight winters or so. This boy shall sit at my feet and learn the ways of the lute. For his future the boy shall require a fine horse, a sword of quality, and twelve gold crowns for his fortune. He shall require twelve guardians, each as ferocious as a thousand tigers, to see to his safety. He must have a teacher to show him the ways of the blade, and another to show him the ways of wood and metal. The very Fates themselves must approve of his spirit before I will teach him a single note.”

“Wow,” said the dragon, grin getting wider. “Don’t hold back, girl. You’re on a roll.”

“The boy must suffer the kiss of death before we begin,” she said with a frown. “And I will have the scale from a mighty dragon for surety.”

“That’s a pretty tall order,” he said, trying to appear serious but failing. “Anybody know where we can get all that?”

“I’m sure you can find a horse somewhere,” laughed the giantess. She leaned down and gave the boy a kiss on the cheek. “Will one from me do, dear lady?”

“Close, but it must be from death itself,” said the demoness sternly.

“Do you see the lady with the eye there, brave one?” asked the giantess. “She sits with her sisters so calmly, does she not? Go to her and beg a kiss, that we may hear our beloved play the song.”

“Is it alright?” he asked her, just to be sure.

“She will be happy,” the giantess told him seriously. “She has been lonely, living with just her sisters. We lend her our attentions when we can, but if you ask it will be very special indeed. Go and see to it.”

Not really understanding why, but deciding to go along anyway, the little boy went to the three elderly sisters and tugged on their sleeves. “Dear ladies, the Queen sends me to you. I must beg a kiss, that we may hear the song.”

“I see,” said the old woman holding the eye. “Let me look at you, my dear.” She hummed and pointed the eye at him. “Yes, a fine boy indeed. My sisters, take my hand and see this boy the dragon has brought.” They held hands and looked some more.

“He is wise,” nodded one.

“He is brave,” nodded the other.

“He is steadfast,” nodded the third.

“He’ll do,” all three old women said to the demoness with the lute. Then each one kissed his forehead. “Our blessing be upon you.”

As the little boy looked at the three old ladies a little warily, because they seemed like they might all hug him at once and the prospect was a bit scary, the Queen of the Valkyrja led the miller’s horse up to the inn’s porch.

“Here we are, all present and correct, mistress minstrel. A horse, a sword, twelve fat Crowns, and twelve Valkyrja more ferocious than a thousand tigers. I expect great things from this song, my dear.” She shook her head, thinking of how hard it was to get a single gold crown. “In truth the ransom of a prince.”

“Where’s my dragon scale then?” demanded the demoness holding out her hand.

The dragon plucked one from his foreleg and gave it to her. “If he ever gets so sick you think he’s going to die, put that in his mouth,” he told her quietly. “There’s not much that’ll beat what’s in there.”

She nodded and held up the scale. “Behold, dear ones. The price is paid. The dragon has asked to hear Cliffs of Dover. It is said that this song was written in one sitting. It flew from the fingers of he who made it, arriving whole as if gifted to him from the Gods themselves. The Fire of Creation, cast into music and given life in the land of Midgard, by a mortal man.” She went into the inn for a moment, and returned with a guitar case in one hand and a boxy amplifier in the other. “These are the gifts of my most beloved follower. He told me that for some things, though she is mighty, the lute alone will not suffice.”

From the guitar case she drew a Stratocaster with a sunburst top and a white pick guard. A little digging turned up a beatbox computer and some cables. She plugged guitar and computer into the amp, and poked at the beatbox to bring up the song she wanted. “It is not too late to relent,” she said to the dragon.

“Both barrels,” he said. “I want to see you set the grass on fire in front of this dump. Light ‘em up!”

“Menace,” she muttered, shaking her head and reaching to turn up the volume to ten.

As the demoness flexed her fingers and checked the tuning of her Strat, the three old women told the little boy to go back to the dragon. “This is a thing of his world,” they whispered to him. “The dragon will love to share this with you.”

He nodded smartly and did as they told him, running back to be lifted up onto the dragon’s head once more. “Great dragon, why this song?” he asked as the demoness struck a chord on her guitar and made the amp wail with distortion and feedback.

“Because it rocks,” the dragon answered. “And because she’s gonna play it so hard, this freaking place will never be the same. This is for you, kid.”

The demoness began with a jazz/blues fusion chord progression, starting slow and letting the guitar speak through the fuzz distortion. She played for nearly two minutes, the progressions speeding up, her fingers flashing up and down the fret board in seeming disharmonies that resolved into beautiful chords and then flickered on. The complexity condensed down to the hook as she began the meat of the song, rich tones and bluesy bending being taken up with the baseline and drums played by the beatbox. The demoness played her heart out for six long minutes, after the first three the Valkyrja were dancing and shouting. The giantess was screaming and banging her head, throwing the horns and losing her composure completely. Even the three old blind ladies were smiling and waving their hands over their heads in time with the beat.

As the music finally drew down to a close, the demoness made one last run down the fretboard, the fastest of all, and ended on a screaming high note. Feedback launched the last note across the valley to echo back from the mountains. Then she sat heavily on the bench, her energy spent.

The song had done something to the dragon. He was spent as well, and laid down on the ground in front of the inn porch. The little boy was concerned and gestured to the Queen of the Valkyrja.

“Well dragon, was that what you wanted?” she asked him, getting down on the ground with him.

“That was awesome,” he wheezed, stars starting to sparkle in his eyes. “Hey kid. Awesome or what?”

“I loved it,” said the little boy, petting the dragon’s eyebrow. “Thank you, great one. I will never forget it.”

“She’s going to teach you how to play it,” the dragon said drowsily. “Work hard, kid. And play hard. And listen to her Majesty, she knows what’s up.”

“I will,” he promised. “Are you going now, great one?

“Dunno,” he admitted, feeling his consciousness fading. “Am I going, queenie?”

“You’re having a dream,” she breathed into his ear as he phased out. “Wake up, lazy.”

#

He slowly became aware he was lying down. In his own bed. He inhaled deeply and smelled coffee, then smiled.